Page 59 of Risky Match
She looks unsure.
“Come on. I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”
She finally offers me her hand.
Taking it, I place my other hand on the small of her back. “Eyes closed. No peeking. I’m going to turn you in the right direction, and we’re going to take a few steps forward.”
“Okay, but warn me when we reach the stairs.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
Her body is stiff, but she follows my directions. Instead of helping her downstairs as she expects, I guide her toward the double doors at the end of the hallway.
“Stop here. I need to open a door.”
“Okay. Where are we? Aren’t we going downstairs?”
“Be patient. You’ll see. We’re crossing the threshold of a door, so step across it and open your eyes.”
Her hands fly to her face, covering her mouth in surprise. “Oh! How did you plan this?”
“With a little help. Do you like it?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
The candlelit balcony has a table for two with a white tablecloth, sparkling crystal, and fresh flowers. Soft music is playing in the background.
“I debated whether to plan an evening out or a quiet one here. But if we went out, fans would swarm us, and security would be extremely difficult. I decided time alone to enjoy our win would be better. I hope this was the right choice.”
After she shared what playing at Wimbledon means to her, I want tonight to be a special celebration. I won’t burst her bubble by pointing out that the next round will be much more difficult. But it’s likely this will be her only win at Wimbledon this year.
“It’s absolutely perfect. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble.”
She rises on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek, sending warmth down my body.
“I had help from Erin, Natalie, and Fausto,” I admit.
Her eyes go wide, and mouth drops in shock.
“How did you communicate with Fausto? I didn’t think anyone else in the house speaks Italian.”
Proud of myself, I answer, “We don’t, but Google translate saved the day.”
She laughs a little awkwardly. “I should have thought of that sooner.”
“Me too. I could have given my menu requests to him directly.”
“True.”
For some reason, a worried look crosses her face.
“What’s wrong?”
She hesitates. Turning to face her, I place my hands on her shoulders and look into her eyes. “Bri, please tell me. Why do you look so worried?”
She sighs. “You shouldn’t be taking the evening off tonight. I want you to be ready for your match tomorrow.”
She’s right, but nothing could stop me from making tonight special for Bri. She played and won her first Wimbledon match. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event. She doesn’t hang out with her coach socially, so it’s up to me to make tonight memorable for her.
