Page 138 of Drop Shot
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into my shirt.
“Sorry?” I cup her cheeks, forcing her to take a step back. “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”
She bites her bottom lip, tears swimming in her eyes. The last thing I want is for this girl to be upset on my behalf.
“You shouldn’t have defended me and now you’re paying the price for it.”
“Baby,” I murmur softly, my fingers delving into her soft hair. “Don’t think like that. It’s not your fault at all. The only person at fault here is Trager. No one should talk about anyone the way he did. He’s an arrogant asshole with no thought or respect for anyone else.”
Her eyes are earnest as she stares up at me and my heart tumbles over itself.
This girl.
God, do I love her. I want to tell her so bad, but I don’t want to say it right now, not right after the whole Trager thing. It’ll have to wait, because when I finally tell her how I feel I want it to be solely about us.
“Do you want me to order dinner?” she asks and I reluctantly let her go.
I’m not feeling hungry after the entire fiasco, but I know Whimsy and she’s trying to find a means of distraction. “Yeah, that would be great.”
“Do you want anything in particular?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the phone.
“You know what I like. Just pick something.”
While she puts the order in, I look out the window of our room. My stomach feels heavy, but I’m not sorry for sticking up for Whimsy. I would’ve done the same for any woman. I’ve been a bit of a playboy over the years, I won’t deny that, but maybe it’s because of my mother and sister, but I respect women too much for any of that shit he said to ever come to my mind, let alone to say it out loud.
The phone clicks as she sets it on the receiver. A moment later her arms wrap around me from behind.
I know she might not see it—but whatever comes of this, I’m going to be okay because I have her.
CHAPTER 45
WHIMSY
My fingers won’t cooperatethis morning. It’s been a long time since I’ve let my anxiety get bad enough to trigger my lupus, but knowing that Elias is in trouble with tennis officials because of me, has done it. I know it’s not my fault—I didn’t force Trager to say whatever he did—but I can’t help feeling some sort of guilt.
Elias slept like a baby last night, though. After making love to me—there’s no other way to put it. We might not have said the words yet, but I felt it in every stroke of his hand along my skin, in the way we held me so tenderly, in the whispered words as he rocked in and out of me.
“Fuck,” I curse, throwing my eyeliner down.
My fingers tremble as I reach for my makeup remover wipe.
“Hey.” Elias pokes his head into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”
I dam my tears back. We’re headed to the press conference soon, so he doesn’t need to deal with my meltdown on top of it. Especially when video is going around of the incident and some people are reporting that the punch was unprompted—as if. It’s clear from the video that Trager is running his mouth. EvenIwant to punch his arrogant smirk off his face and I didn’t even hear what he said about me. And I guess that’s the thing, unfortunately none of the video includes what he said prior. The few videos of the event all started recording just before the punch.
“Nothing.”
“Babe.” He leans against the doorway. “I know when something’s wrong. Now, be a good girl and tell me.”
I pick up the eyeliner wand and hold it out. “My fingers are shaking too bad.”
He takes the pen from my trembling fingers. “Sit down.”
“Huh?” The sounds rolls out of me with a questioning lilt.
“Sit down,” he commands again. “I’ll do it for you.”
A laugh rips out of me. “Elias, you can’t do my eyeliner. You’ve never done it before.”
