Page 77 of Double Fault

After we’re seated, he orders for us in flawless French.

“You too?” I groan.

He laughs, amusement curling his lips. “I take it you’ve heard Maddie speak French?”

“Yes.” I toy with the sleeves of my trench coat. It’s drizzling, but I refuse to let the weather dampen my excitement. I haven’t had much opportunity to explore since the beginning of the tour. Most of my time has been spent in the hotels with Maddie, or very close by, and at the tennis courts. “She’s brilliant.”

He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. Not even talk of tennis makes Noah light up the way talking about his daughter does. “She is. Languages come easy to her.”

“I won’t lie. I’m a bit envious.”

The server sets two espressos in front of us, and I smile in thanks.

“I’ve always wanted to learn another language,” I say when we’re alone again. “But I struggled with Spanish, so I gave up. Understanding seems to come easier to me than speaking.”

He takes a sip of the espresso, eyes closed, and sighs. “Maybe you should try again.”

“Maddie mentioned wanting to learn Italian. I thought maybe I’d see if she’d want to learn with me.”

His eyes soften, and he brushes his fingers over the top of my hand, sending shivers cascading through me. “I think she’d love that.”

Is it strange, to be out like this, just the two of us, and bring up Maddie? I’m not quite sure what to make of today. Itfeelslike a date, but I certainly don’t want to make any assumptions.

“She’s amazing. So smart and kind and funny.” With a shake of my head, I drop my hands to my lap. “Sorry. You know these things already. But I can’t seem to stop myself from gushing about her.”

His lips tip up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll never complain when someone acknowledges how wonderful my daughter is.”

I pick up the small espresso cup once more and savor the rich flavor. “When did you start playing tennis?” The momentthe question escapes me, I cringe. God, my nerves are getting the better of me. Rather than segue into easy conversation, I sound like I’m interviewing him.

Seemingly unbothered, he leans closer. “I was Maddie’s age. My dad…” He clears his throat. “He wanted me to play a sport. Football was his first choice. Baseball would have been acceptable too. I sucked at both. And soccer. And golf. It wasn’t until I picked up a tennis racket that I showed any kind of athletic promise.”

“Did you ever resent it? That he wanted you to play sports?”

He flags down our server and orders, then fixes his attention solely on me.

“I did at first. Especially before I found tennis, when I was terrible at everything. But I truly love the game, so eventually, that faded.”

“Do you talk to your parents?”

He shakes his head, tracing his finger around the edge of the espresso cup. “I avoid them as much as I can, as terrible as it sounds. I’d never let Maddie ignore me the way I do them, but it’s not worth it. I’ll never be good enough for them. My sister and I talk every now and then, but she’s close with them, so it’s hard. I don’t want to share everything with her lest it get back to them.”

My heart pinches at the truth and pain in his words. “You’re a professional tennis player.” I scoot to the edge of my seat, angling closer. “That’s not good enough?”

He shakes his head. “That’s the thing—even when I did everything they wanted me to, I wasn’t good enough. And when I knocked up my girlfriend when we were eighteen, that was all the scandal they could handle.”

I drop my head in disbelief. Honestly, this shouldn’t surprise me, considering the way my own parents treat me. He and I are living proof that blood does not equal family.

“What about you?” he asks, picking up his espresso cup and sitting back. “Your situation with your parents seems similar to mine. Do anything in particular to disappoint them?”

An unflattering noise leaves my mouth—half snort, half cough. “Besides daring to breathe? I’m not sure. They were young. It was a hookup and neither one was ready to be a parent. Sometimes, on my better days, I feel sorry for them. They were younger than I am now when I was born. I can’t imagine being a parent at this age, even though I love kids.”

He chuckles, one arm crossed over his chest, cup held aloft. “It’s not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. But Maddie…” He smiles wistfully, those smile lines around his eyes more prominent than ever. “That girl changed my life for the better.”

“So,” I say, tapping my nails against the side of my espresso cup. “If you weren’t playing tennis professionally, what would you be doing?”

With a frown, he rubs at the light stubble on his jaw. “I… I’m not sure, actually. Even as a kid, my goal was to go pro. I’d probably do something else related to the sport. Coaching or physical therapy. That sort of thing.”

Conversation continues as our food arrives, flowing more easily than I expected. He’s a surprisingly great conversationalist when he’s not being a grumpy asshole.

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