Page 50 of Double Fault

She pops up on her knees again and cranes her neck, scanning the dining area. “She’s taking a long time.”

My gut churns with unease. “If you promise not to leave the table, I’ll check on her.”

With a nod, she lowers herself to her backside and picks up another piece of bread.

In the dim hallway, I knock on the door to the women’s restroom and ease it open a few inches.

“Sabrina?”

I’m met with the sound of a familiar throat clearing.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, voice thick with tears.

“No, you’re fucking not.”

A fierce surge of protectiveness rushes over me. I push the door fully open—damn the consequences—and step into the restroom. I find her around the corner at the sink, attempting to clean up her makeup.

“Noah,” she breathes in a way that makes my blood warm, fixing one of her curls. “Please, go. I’m okay. You shouldn’t be in here.”

I loom behind her, attention fixed on her reflection. “What did the text say?”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head subtly. “It’s not important.”

“You’re crying. It clearly is.”

Hands braced on the stone countertop, she exhales. “I’ll be okay. I’m strong.”

I’m not sure whether she says that last part for my benefit or hers, but I’m betting on hers.

I take a breath, choosing to give her something so she knows she’s not alone. “I haven’t spoken to my parents in years. I grew up with money, so at least they were generous enough to send me to fancy tennis camps and foot the bill for anything related to it. I’m thankful for that. Otherwise, they were shitty. But…” I shake my head. “All I’m trying to say is I know how it is. Even Annie’s parents weren’t the best. When she got pregnant young, they… let’s just say some hurtful things were said, and there was no coming back from it.”

She turns around, shoulders straighter than they were a moment before. “Thank you for sharing that. I hate that your families suck, but is it terrible to say I’m glad I’m not alone?”

“Not a bit. But…” I duck down so she’s forced to meet my eye. “I’m going to ask you again—what did the text say?”

Shoulders drooping, she focuses on the tiled floor between us. I don’t want to force her to tell me, but I hate that she feels she has to keep it to herself. I know what it’s like shouldering heartbreak and pain. It’s not good keep everything inside. If I can help, even a little, then I want to.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and holds it up to unlock it using Face ID. The moment I take it from her, she steps back, wringing her hands, gaze lowered.

Mother Dearest: You think you’re too good for us now? Dolores told me she saw photos of you with a tennis player in Australia. You’ll spread your legs for anyone, won’t you? Anything for an extra buck. You’re a disgrace.

Anger simmers inside me and my grip on the phone tightens. I feel like I could crush it like this if I wanted.

“What a bitch.” I don’t care if I’m calling her mother names. That’s what she is. “Why would she say something like that?”

With a sniffle, she takes the device and slides it into her pocket. “I shouldn’t let her get to me. This is how she’s always been. I only hear from her when she wants to say shit like this. But…”

“Sometimes words cut deep.”

“Yeah.” She inhales a shaky breath. “Do I look awful? I don’t want Maddie to know I’ve been crying.”

My heart cracks open. Fuck, she’s dealing with an emotional crisis, yet she’s worried about my daughter?

“You look beautiful.” The words slip out before I can stop them. A strange affection for her runs through me, despite how hard I try to stop it. “I’ll, uh, give you another minute.”

“No, I’m okay.” She plasters on a closed-mouth smile and lifts her chin.

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