Page 89 of A Follow-Through in Faking
She takes Hallin’s service game, sealing the match. I feel pride coursing through every single part of my body as she wins the tournament for the second year in a row.
Catalina’s racket drops to the ground as she sinks into a squat, covering her face with her hands. It takes her several seconds until she’s composed enough to drop her hands and face the crowd, waving to them as she makes her way to the net to shake Hallin’s hand. Then she shakes the umpire’s.
Finally, Cata turns back to the crowd and waves to them, throwing kisses to them and placing her hands on her face when they scream even louder for her. I know I’m not anyone in the crowd of people for her, but I cheer for her in the same way because she deserves it. If I could, I’d lose my voice for her, to make her feel as loved as possible in the sport she shared with her mother.
The sport that connects her to the one person she misses more than words will ever be able to describe.
And when she makes her way to where Charlie, the rest of her team, and I are waiting for her, I feel my heart palpitating even harder because she’s running tome. To her team that I am a part of, and when she reaches us, she kissesmefor the whole world to witness.
I love you, Catalina.
The words almost escape my lips. They’re the hardest truth I’ve ever had to hold back, but this moment isn’t about my feelings for her. It’s about her victory, and I’ll never do anything to take that away from her.
So, instead, I say, “You did amazing. I’m so proud of you,” which makes her kiss me again, this time harder and with a smile on that perfect mouth of hers.
Chapter 37
Catalina
Santihastakenmeto Zakynthos in Greece.
After my win in Italy, he told me to pack my bags because we were going on a trip. He didn’t tell me where, only that I should bring lots of bikinis and summer dresses, shorts, light tops, and anything else I’d need on a beach vacation. He promised me it’d be only for a few days since I can’t be slacking off this close to the second Grand Slam of the season. I have to train every single day, and he assured me he’d even find courts there for us to play for a few hours a day if it made me feel better.
It did.
So, we packed our bags, made our way to Greece, and I haven’t asked him why we’re here once. I could have looked up what there is to do here, but Santi clearly has plans for us, and I don’t want to ruin the surprise.
Plus, I love surprises.
Not the people jumping out at your birthday and scaring the shit out of you kind of surprises.
But the thoughtful gestures that a partner does for you to make you happy.
Santiago has perfected those kinds of surprises over the last half year that we’ve been doing this whole fake/real dating thing.
I haven’t spoken to him about what the hell we are yet, but it’s a conversation that lingers on the tip of my tongue every single time I’m near him. Uncertainty is one of my worst nightmares, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to start the conversation.
Our reputations have been cleared.
We arethecouple of the world of tennis.
Most people love us together, and so do I. I love us together so much, I’m scared that when I start asking him what he wants for the long run, it won’t be me. That he’ll want more, or to get back to his life. Before this whole charade we put on, Santi loved partying. He loved going out and fucking a new person whenever he wanted.
What if he’ll want to get back to that as soon as he’s free at the end of the season?
What if I’m just a way for him to get sex?
What if I’m not enough for him?
As much as I try to logically stop myself from thinking such irrational things because I know how deeply he cares for me, these doubts attack the vulnerable part of my brain that harbors all of my insecurities like piranhas attack a piece of meat.
“Mariquita,” Santi says, and I snap out of my thoughts, turning my head to look at him abruptly. “What’s wrong?” he asks and cups my face, rubbing his thumb along my cheek in soothing motions.
“I hate how well you see through me,” I whisper, fighting back the panic crawling into my chest.
“No, you don’t. You’re a romantic who needs your partner to be able to pick up on the little things.” He traces my bottom lip with his thumb, and I inhale deeply, taking in his scent, something that reminds me of pure sunshine, just like the man who emanates it. “And I want to be your partner, Catalina. I want to be your partner in everything, not just while we train. Is that a worry you need to have soothed? Because I’ll say it again. I’ll say it in every language you know until you believe me.”
The car we’re taking to the location Santi didn’t tell me a lot about, hits a bump in the road that has me moving closer to Santi, our breaths becoming one as he leans down to close the distance between us even more.
