Page 100 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“I won my first Grand Slam,” I whisper against his shoulder, and he nods several times.
“You did, and you did so gloriously,” he replies, and I lean back to place my mouth on his.
He kisses me as fervently as I kiss him, the heat of the moment making me forget we’re surrounded by people for a moment. It’s only when I hear Dad say, “Okay, okay,” with a little laugh that I lean away again.
“I love you,mi corazón,” I whisper to Santi, who presses his forehead to mine, a tear streaming down his face as more run down mine.
“I love you so much,mi mariquita,” he replies, kissing me softly before he smiles against my lips. “Now, go get your trophy.”
The brightest of smiles covers my face before I go to do exactly that.
And as I hold up the trophy, my eyes drift back to my family where they’re sitting in the box, cheering for me. For a moment, I think I even see Mamá standing behind them, but when I blink, naturally, she isn’t standing there.
But I know she’s here, watching me accomplish something so major in the sport we shared.
My fingers lift to the necklace she gave me, wrapping them around the charm.
This one is for you, Mamá.
Epilogue
Catalina
Breathinghasbecomeeasierthan it has been in years.
After winning Roland Garros and losing the German Open, I went on to win Wimbledon, too. Layla and I were in the final together, and I won it in two sets.
It was amazing.
Santi’s ankle has been doing much better, and he’s planning on going back to playing tournaments after a couple more weeks of physiotherapy.
The season is still long, but three Grand Slams are already done, which means the last one will be the US Open and a few more WTA tournaments, ATP for Santiago.
My boyfriend and I have been doing really well together, too. More than well. Being with Santi is Earth-shatteringlyincredible. In every way. Emotionally and physically. He fulfills all of my needs in a single breath, and I can’t help but glue myself to his side whenever we’re together, which is easy considering he’s never more than a step away from me when I’m close to him. He gives me space if or when I need it, but otherwise, he’s not ashamed in the least to show everyone that he could spend all of his time with me without ever getting bored.
I’m happy.
Every part of my life has found a rhythm I’m truly content with, and while I know it won’t last forever, some things always fall out of balance, I won’t worry about that. Life is all about living in the moment, not to miss the little things.
Or the big things like meeting Valentina Romana and doing hot laps with her around the Monaco circuit, only a couple of days before she’s racing in the Monaco Grand Prix.
Ever since she got a seat in F1, the Monegasque has won her home Grand Prix every single year in a row. She’s my favorite F1 driver, a complete badass, and a role model to every little girl who wants to make it in racing. She even opened her own driver academy with Formula One legend Leonard Tick to give kids who aren’t born with privileges a chance.
“Your hands are shaking,” Santi says, and I tilt my head to the side and back to look up at him.
“Well, I’m about to meet the woman I used to have the biggest crush on, who also happens to be my favorite athlete of all time. It’s a lot,” I explain, and Santi starts grinning at my response.
“I don’t blame you. I also used to have a crush on her. Her and her brother,” he replies, and I nod in agreement because I get it.
But then again—
“She’s my celebrity crush. Mine,” I tell him, pointing my index finger at him warningly. Santi grabs me by the hips and pulls me into him, kissing my lips firmly before responding.
“Don’t worry,cariño. You’re my celebrity crush. You’re my everything crush,” he says, and I hate that I’ll never get tired of hearing him be so sweet to me. That my body will forever melt into his at the words.
“We’ve come such a long way,” I point out with a little chuckle, and Santi smiles brightly.
“All thanks to a stupid fake dating agreement set up by our managers,” he says, nudging my nose with his in a soft, tender gesture. “Thank you for following through in faking this relationship with me,” he adds, brushing his mouth over mine.
