Page 10 of Game Point
‘It results in a fight but it’s a sister fight: the next day, all is forgiven,’ I said, a little sad at the memories. I nodded down at his hand as I said, ‘So that’s why no ring?’
His fingers curled into his fist under the sudden attention. He stretched it out as if to fight the unwanted reaction. ‘It feels weird without it. I kind of miss wearing it.’
I nodded as if I understood, but I didn’t, no romantic relationship of my own coming anywhere near to even living together, let alone marriage.
‘How long were you together?’ I asked. I’d known his wife; she was a player too, a little lower down in the rankings, but good, nonetheless.
‘Five years.’
I winced, but Oliver just shook his head. ‘We’d been together so long. Even though it wasn’t a shock when the divorce came, nine months on, I … I’m still figuring life without her.’
‘I guess now you learn what it looks like.’ My humour was dark, a little dry, but he still cracked a slight smile.
His hand held his glass, tipping it absentmindedly. ‘Apparently it looks like a hotel.’
I related, instantly missing my own home in Melbourne. Missing Australia entirely, homesickness hitting me hard.
‘Hotels suck. I mean, sure –’ I gestured at the modern luxury around us. Everything was perfectly appointed, the comfortable leather chairs, the marble tables and gold-foiled bar. Even the air was perfectly scented. ‘But …’
‘It’s not home,’ he repeated. There was a moment, a silence, when I wasn’t sure what to say next, how to ask him if he was okay when he was clearly heartbroken.
‘Do me a favour?’ he asked, his attention meeting mine again.
‘Beat your ex-wife on the court?’ I joked.
He raised a single eyebrow. ‘You have already, and you know it.’
I grinned, a little twisted with confidence and ego. It had been an excellent match a few seasons ago, the kindwhen you enjoy destroying somebody’s game probably a little too much.
‘Don’t quit,’ he said, our eyes meeting.
I tried to keep the surprise from my voice as I defended myself, ‘I was joking.’I was, right?Or had Oliver seen something I hadn’t?
‘I know, but just … don’t.’
I swallowed the uncomfortable lump in my throat, the feeling of him seeing right through me growing intense. Maybe I’d shown too much, dipped the cards too low.
‘You’re closer than you know, Dylan.’ He said the words with such assurance, I wondered to myself if I’d ever match his confidence. ‘You’ve gotta keep your head on straight.’
I laughed, trying to escape the tension. ‘Easier said than done.’
‘If you can keep your cool in the final, you’ll win. Panic, and you’ll end up in the same place.’
‘Has anyone actually ever calmed down after being told not to panic?’
‘I mean it.’ The intensity of his words had me still in my seat, my attention entirely his. ‘Sometimes you need somebody who believes you can do it. Someone with no investment in your success other than wishing you the best. I’ve seen you play; you’ve got a killer instinct. Nobody on the tour looks forward to a match against you.’
I didn’t answer him, struck a little by his enthusiasm.
‘I bet,’ he paused, thinking to himself. ‘If you give yourself a chance and cut yourself a break with the pressure, you can win the Australian Open.’
I looked at him. ‘You bet?’ His answer was a single nod. ‘And what do I win if you’re wrong?’
‘Well, if I’m right, and you keep going and finally take the final in Melbourne, you have to buy us a round of drinks.’
‘A round of drinks?’ I looked around as if I was being punked. ‘What? Because you can’t afford to buy your own?’
‘I did just have to pay a divorce solicitor so I’m very out of pocket,’ he pointed out, before continuing, ‘But I’ll make sure it’s an expensive round of drinks.’
