Page 51 of Love, Amy

Beck grunts in agreement. “Right. I know. But I thought maybe tonight we could act more...” he trails off. “More like father and daughter. Get them off our backs.”

It takes me a moment. I finally choke out a laugh of disbelief. It hurts my throat. “Even tonight, Dad? Even tonight you want to make it all about you?”

The words hit their intended mark. Beck narrows his eyes. “It’s about us. Or do you just want to throw your tennis career away? We need to convince them that this tournament was an anomaly.”

“But we both know that isn’t true, don’t we?” I smile at him. He flinches at what he sees on my face.

“Amy.” He tries to reason with me. “Tonight is the first step to getting things back on track. You still have the U.S. Open in a few weeks.”

I straighten my spine, standing as tall as I can. He still looms over me. “Tonight is about showing up for Aurelio and Fernanda. That’s it.”

Beck throws up his hands. “Aurelio and Fernanda? Why?”

“Because they’re my friends,” I say firmly. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. “Now, it’s almost 7. We better hurry. The car is waiting downstairs.” I smooth down my up-do, sling my purse back over my shoulder, and open the door. Beck doesn’t move. “You coming?”

I don’t look to see if he’s behind me as I walk out the door.

*

Beck, Vince, and I are a little late to the ball. It’s decked out for the festivities. The All England Tennis Club’s ballroom has been filled with dozens of circular tables, a small dance floor and DJ booth in the corner, and a gorgeous, strange chandelier that seems to be partially made of recycled tennis balls. A well-informed event organizer in a headset hardly blinks when she sees us, steering us gently towards a premiere table near the DJ booth. I can see a few royal family members have been placed at our table, probably to ensure we’ll behave.

I can already see Fernanda holding court a few tables away. Her gold dress glitters in the warm lighting and so does her expression. Her gigantic, circular trophy is laid on the table, right at her fingertips. Her gaze slants in my direction, so I hurriedly look elsewhere before we can make eye contact. I still don’t know what to say to her.

Aurelio is similarly surrounded by well-wishers towards the center of the room. I recognize a few celebrities congratulating him, including Serena Williams and her husband. Just behind Aurelio, at his table, I can see Antonio and Aurelio’s father sitting and playing cards. It makes me smile.

I can’t avoid Aurelio’s gaze. He must have been looking for me. When he sees me, his whole face lights up. My heart starts racing in response. He looks too handsome in his suit, a classic black with a forest green tie. I love him in green.

I nudge Vince with my elbow. “I’m going to congratulate Aurelio.”

Beck acts as though I was talking to him. “I’ll come, too. I’m proud of the kid.” There’s a genuine warmth in his voice that disgusts me. How can he be proud of a man like Aurelio? Aurelio is all that is good and genuine and kind. My father disparages such qualities until they win a championship.

Before I can argue, a cocktail waiter taps my father on the shoulder and asks him what he wants to drink. I take my moment to escape.

I stop in surprise when I see that Aurelio is halfway to my table, somehow disentangling himself from his entourage. We smile sheepishly at each other and meet in the middle.

I resist the urge to throw my arms around his neck. “Aurelio.” I take a moment to compose myself, but I don’t think it works. It’s hard to think straight when Aurelio is grinning at me. “Congratulations.”

“I’m so glad you came, Amy.” His words are warm, but there’s a hint of worry. Maybe he thought I’d ditch the ball, too. A hint of darkness clouds his expression. “Last time I won at Roland Garros, I was alone.”

I reach out between us and grab his hand to squeeze. The darkness leaves his face, appreciation for my gesture filling the space instead.

“I had to see the champion!” I keep it light, dropping his hand. “Was your family so happy? Did Bianca give the winning speech instead of you?” I feel guilty that I didn’t go out and celebrate with Aurelio and his family, though I’m sure that after seeing my match Aurelio gave me a free pass. I promised to meet his family and instead I shoved my head under a pillow. I resolve to introduce myself to his father at some point tonight.

Aurelio tilts his head. “You didn’t watch my speech?”

I’m a little surprised by the question. “I fell asleep,” I confess. “I’m sure you were wonderful.”

Understanding floods his face. “That’s why you didn’t answer my texts.”

“I’m sorry. It was a long day.” I rub my wrist, sure I can feel a tell-tale hive forming. “I did read them later.” A blush burns my cheeks. “And listen to them.”

Aurelio stares at me affectionately. “It’s a beautiful song.” He says song, but I’m sure he means something else. I blush deeper, wishing we were alone. I know I could say things better without everyone watching.

“What song?” Beck comes up behind us, clapping a hand on Aurelio’s shoulder. In his other hand he holds a glass of whisky.

“This one,” I blurt out, gesturing at the DJ. “Right?” Unfortunately, the DJ is currently playing the Spice Girls, but Beck is so far removed from pop culture that he just shrugs after listening for a few beats.

He turns back to Aurelio. “Congrats, kid. You looked like a champion out there.”