Page 157 of Break Point
WTA Insider
PARIS, FRANCE
In a thrilling finale at Roland Garros, Belén Freeman successfully defended her title, defeating Li Na 6–4, 7–6(7–0), claiming her second consecutive French Open championship. Freeman’s victory solidifies her status as a dominant force on clay courts.
The tournament took an unexpected turn when top-seeded Zoya Kruschenko withdrew due to undisclosed medical reasons at the quarterfinals. When we asked her to comment on Freeman’s win, she said, “I’m sure it was easier given my absence.” And then, “You’re welcome.”
Freeman addressed the situation with a touch of humor in her post-match interview. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to defend my title again next year … whether she shows up or not,” she said with a smirk. “And if she ever wants to settle it on the court instead of the tabloids, I’m easy to find.”
Later, when asked what winning back-to-back titles meant to her, her tone shifted.
“I grew up watching the Grand Slams and dreamed about standing on this court,” she said. “But this year, I didn’t just dream about it. I fought for it. And that’s what makes this win even sweeter.”
With a total of 5,540 points, Freeman rises to an impressive career-high ranking, reflecting her consistent performance throughout the clay season.
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Prize Money:€1,200,000
Ranking points earned:2,000
CHAPTER 37
TROPHY ROOM
JUNE 5, 2011
I kickmy foot against the door because my hands are full and I can’t fetch my keys. I hear footsteps, hoping they’re Henry’s, and the door swings open.
“Happy birthday,” I say, hugging my two trophies. “I promised you one, but I brought a little extra shine for good measure.”
I shoot him a cocky grin and kiss my Roland Garros cup before stepping inside to settle the trophies on the table. All my trophies go in the trophy room at my parents’ place in Montclair, alongside my mom’s cups, my dad’s rings, and every other piece of family sports paraphernalia. I’m just here to pick up Henry and Dora. Mom’s hosting a dinner to welcome us back, send Dora off since she’s leaving tomorrow, and celebrate Henry’s birthday.
“Greedy little necia,” he murmurs, his eyes dragging over the trophies before landing on me again. He tugs me in by the waist with his left hand, pulling me closer. His right arm just came out of the sling, and he still needs to be careful with his movements.
“Is the texting ban lifted yet?”
“God, yes.” He presses a kiss to my neck and another behind my ear, sending goosebumps down my spine. “But I’m kidnapping you for a few days. No texts. No Tim. Just me. I’m not sharing you this week.”
I throw my head back and laugh. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to kiss the hollow of my neck.
Henry was strict about our no-texting rule. While I was away, we had a scheduled call every day, and we clung to every minute. He said it would make the distance easier and help me focus. It did.
As much as I complained at first, he was right. It turned out to be exactly what I needed: convenient and grounding. Knowing we had a set time to talk every night helped me forget about my phone altogether. It became the perfect nightcap before bed.
I stand on tiptoe and run my fingers through the sides of his hair, careful not to mess it up too much. We have a dinner to attend.
He digs his fingers into my waist and kisses me. I get lost in it for a moment before pulling back.
“Your mom,” I whisper. “She’ll see us.”
“She’s been at the country club all day with your mom,” he mutters, low and needy, making my brain short-circuit. “We’re alone.”
“Oh.” I pretend to gasp. “And they left us unsupervised here like this?”
“Reckless, really,” he counters, sliding his hand around my neck. He takes my mouth and walks backward toward my room, where he’s been staying while I’ve been gone. I can feel his erection pressing against my front, and an aching heat ignites low in my belly.
I grab the door handle and push it open.
