Page 54 of Love, Amy

Aurelio:

From something good.

It’s there, if you read between the lines. Aurelio and I are good together. He knows it. He embraces it.

I know it. Will I ever embrace it? I cried to Vince that I wanted, needed change, so why won’t I let Aurelio change me? Maybe because for the ice woman to change, first she needs to melt away who she was before.

I decide to leave Wimbledon a coward, texting Aurelio a simple reply.

Amy:

I’m sorry. Next time, I promise.

I add a green heart emoji and then pretend to sleep the rest of the ride.

CHAPTER 17

Cincinnati Tournament: August 2026

“If one more person asks me about my father, I’ll scream.” I slam my breakfast tray down on the table Fernanda’s sitting at, startling her.

She freezes with her fork halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“Ofelia,” I say through gritted teeth. “She stopped me in the breakfast line to ask how things are with my father. She’s the third person since I’ve arrived at this damn tournament.”

Just as Fernanda opens her mouth to respond, someone’s gentle hand squeezes my shoulder. “Amy.” Anika’s face is already creased with sympathy as she sits in the other free chair at our table. “How are you holding up?”

I throw my hands in the air. “I did just win in Toronto, Anika! Or did you forget that I beat you in the quarterfinals?”

Her eyes widen. “I’m so sorry, it’s just I heard Charles Allard fired his coach and he was seen talking to your father at the practice courts this morning—”

I stiffen. “The number one player in the world fired his coach? What are you talking about?”

Anika leans back from my wrath, hands up in innocence. “It’s all over, I swear. Everyone’s talking about it—”

Before I can bite her head off again, Fernanda smoothly intercedes. “It’s true, Amy. He announced it on social media last night. This is going to be his first tournament without Guillame.”

I’m stunned. “But Guillame and Charles have been together for over a decade. They’ve won four Grand Slams together.” Slowly, the rest of the information hits me. The hair on my arms rises. “And he was seen practicing with my father?”

“Talking,” Fernanda emphasizes. She turns to look at her friend. “Right, Anika?”

“Right, right.” Anika scrambles to her feet. “I’d better get to the practice courts. I play early tomorrow. Good luck, ladies!” She doesn’t look back as she hurries away from our table. I don’t blame her for the hasty exit.

I take a deep breath. Then another. Finally, I look at Fernanda. “Thank you. Especially after...”

She raises a perfectly manicured brow. “Especially after you’ve been dodging my calls for the last two weeks?”

I wince. “Sorry. I knew the sharks wouldn’t stop circling unless I got things back on track. Quickly. I had to win Toronto.”

“And you did. But only because I wasn’t there.” She winks, and I know she’s forgiven me.

I roll my eyes, playing along. “Were you too tired after Wimbledon? Some of us have more stamina.”

“I needed a break,” she says bluntly. “Antonia wanted me to play Toronto, try to build some momentum before the U.S. Open, but I wanted to go home for a few days. My parents threw a huge party with all my cousins, tias, and tios.”

The vision of so many Navarros is enough to send a pang of longing through me. I can’t even imagine having a family like that. I hardly have one cousin in my contact list, let alone enough to have a blowout bash. The envy must show on my face because Fernanda leans across the table, expression softening. “How has it really been, Amy? What’s going on with you and Beck?”

I shake my head. “I thought things were better. I sat him down and explained that we needed some boundaries. He agreed to have separate hotel rooms, to let me choose the times we practice, to include a few more breaks in my schedule if I requested it...” I trail off, remembering the way I loomed above my father as he sat on the edge of my hotel bed. “He was strangely docile,” I admit. “I was surprised. But maybe, if he was talking to Charles Allard...”