Page 81 of Risky Match
“That’s a start.”
As we’re standing to leave, Josh walks in with a big grin.
“What has you so happy?” I ask.
He says, “You’ll never believe what just happened?”
“I’d believe almost anything at this point. I just hope your smile means it’s good news this time,” I say.
“Your second-round opponents just dropped out. You have a walkover. That means the two of you are advancing directly to the mixed doubles quarterfinals! Congrats!”
Excitement lights up Bri’s face, as she says, “You must be joking. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure. One of them sprained their ankle and can’t play. You two celebrate. I’ll call Martina and arrange practice times for you two.”
I don’t wish anyone harm, but that’s the best news I’ve heard. I’ll have an extra day or two to recover.
Without warning, I embrace Bri, lift her off the ground, and twirl her in a circle as if we’ve won another match. Her surprised giggle is a welcome sign she’s not objecting. Setting her back on her feet, I take her cheeks in my hands and stare directly into her gleaming green eyes. “Bri, let’s do this the right way. I’ll be there for you. We’ll work together as a true team. Is it a deal?
“Deal,” she murmurs in a soft, husky voice.
We seal it with a toe-tingling kiss.
Progress. Major progress.
I cross my fingers that we’re past the hardest part.
27
BLAKE
After all that’s happened, my expectations for this match are low. I suspect Bri’s are too. Knowing that makes it easier as we step onto the court.
We smile and wave to the crowd.
I’m surprised and thrilled at the full stands. A doubles match never attracts a crowd. Occasionally, fans arrive early if the next match is an important one. But these people are clearly here for us.
They’re all on their feet, clapping and cheering as we walk to the bench. Natalie was right. People are excited to see Bri and me back on the court. I chuckle when I hear someone in the crowd yell, “Blake, you’re proof that we Brits are a hardy bunch.”
Someone else calls out, “Why didn’t you team up with the princess sooner?”
My heart is full at the outpouring of support. This is a special moment for me, but even more so for Bri.
I flash a thumbs up, which triggers another wave of applause. Their cheers are the perfect motivation and reminder. I’m fighting not just for me, or even Bri, but for my country and our fans. No matter what the outcome is today, Bri and I will give it everything we can and fight until the end.
The match starts, and we quickly take the lead. We’re playing spectacular tennis—making shots that we’d normally miss. With expectations so low, we’re free to relax, go for every shot, take extra chances, and generally have fun. I’d love to bottle the unusual combination of inner calmness and outward excitement. It’s incredibly powerful.
It’s also a recipe for success because an hour and a half later, Bri slams the ball past one of our opponents to seal the win. We’ve won our match with relative ease.
I throw my racquet down and pick her up, twirling her in a circle and planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Bri, you were amazing!” I say, settling her feet back onto the grass but keeping my arms around her.
“Thanks, so were you. But you’re not really supposed to be manhandling a princess in public. Not that I mind but the palace might be calling to reprimand us once they see the photos.” She laughs.
I quickly step back, whispering, “I’ll try to keep my manhandling to private locales. Perhaps there’s somewhere around here that wouldn’t have so many prying eyes?”
“You’re so bad, and I love it. But that’s for later.”
