Page 38 of Break Point
The exchange between them annoyed me, but it bugs me even more that I can’t remember who Mitzi’s daughter is or what she looks like. Maybe he does, and that’s why he entertained the idea.
Henry needs to be focused on my training, not making new “friends.”
Thankfully, these women get easily bored, and once we became old news, people stopped harassing us. But going back to Montclair hasn’t been all bad. Henry reconnected with some of his old friends he hadn’t seen in a while, and his warm, open smile looked genuine when he greeted them.
My father seemed thrilled about the idea of me training in the country club. He was worried sick when he found out about the paparazzi swarming Jasper’s courts in Tribeca. He said it was best if I trained at a private facility. No place has the security that the NTC has, so he wants things to cool down and for me to focus on training without having to deal with external distractions.
I refuse to believe the media cares that much about where I train. It’s asilly excuse he’s telling himself to justify his desire for me to be closer to him. Meanwhile, I don’t think my mom cares that much about where I lay my head at night.
Dad agrees that Robbie and I should live in the city because it’s practical, but if it were up to him, I’d still be living at home.
“It’ll only be for three months,” he insisted during his obvious and planned intervention as soon as we arrived in Montclair last Friday evening. It’s the only thing he could talk about all weekend: training venues and how they all sucked.
I’m glad I convinced him to allow me to return to Manhattan during the week. The Montclair Ridge Country Club is virtually the same distance from my apartment as the NTC, so it’s not a big deal. Robbie and I will still go home on the weekends, as usual. Henry, too. And MomlovesHenry.
Training with him has been a pleasant surprise. The change in pace and routine is doing me well. I hadn’t realized how necessary it was to switch coaches until I was forced to do it. Elliot was a great coach, no doubt about that. He molded me into the tennis player I am today, and I will be forever grateful for that. But our time together was over.
The truth is I could’ve stayed with Elliot for the rest of my tennis career because he is all I ever knew. But training with Henry has opened my eyes to a world of possibilities. He won’t be my coach forever, so I shouldn’t get too attached. He’s doing my dad a favor, but we’ll make the best of it while it lasts.
“Gracias,Tony,”?1 Robbie says, opening the door to step out of the car. “Me saludas a Martha.”?2
“De tu parte,”?3 Tony replies with a grin, then looks at Henry and me. “I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”
We nod in agreement and thank him with big smiles. Tony is the best.
The three of us step inside the elevator, and Robbie pulls out his phone. He’s texting with a weird pout on his face. He glancesat me from the corner of his eye and redirects his attention back to his screen to keep texting.
The doors slide open on our floor, and I’m about to walk out when Robbie says, “No te vayas a enojar.Pero es que me estuvo insistiendo todo el día.”?4
“Ay no, ¿qué hiciste, Roberto?”?5
I look over my shoulder. Robbie shrugs. Henry looks annoyed. I know he hates it when we speak Spanish in front of him. I’d hate it, too.
“Come see for yourself,” Robbie replies in a whisper, walking ahead of me with a laugh. “Hey, man!”
I turn toward my door, and Liam is leaning against the wall with his hands inside his pockets. He’s looking incredibly handsome, as he always does. The faintest hint of his cologne brushes past my nose as I close in. His lips twitch into a side smile when he lifts his gaze to look at me.
How could I be mad at Robbie when it’s been killing me to ignore Liam these past few days? He tried calling me again on Saturday, but I didn’t take it. I was having fun with Gemma, hanging out at her place, and I didn’t want to ruin our girls’ night with my drama. I was planning on talking to Liam tomorrow, but he’s a few steps ahead of me. And I don’t mind it one bit.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach when he stands up straight and closes the distance between us.
“Hey,” he says, his gaze locked with mine as if it were just him and me in this corridor.
“Hey.”
Liam reaches out for my hand, pulls me closer to him, and wraps his hands around my waist. “You weren’t picking up your phone or answering my texts,” he says. “I was beginning to get worried.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, glancing at Robbie and Henry. Robbie’s unlocking the apartment door, and Henry’s waiting behind him, giving his back to us.
For a second, I can’t remember what we fought about or what has bothered me these past few days. Liam’s presence has mespinning.
Robbie saunters into the apartment, and Henry peeks over his shoulder at me with his thick brows pulled together. His blue eyes are glued at my interaction with Liam as he slowly follows Robbie inside.
I look away, feeling the heaviness of his gaze on me. And when I can no longer resist, I glance back at him. He’s holding the door open and looking straight at me, not bothering to look away after our eyes catch each other. He takes a few steps back and finally shuts the door with a gentle click, giving Liam and me some privacy.
Liam presses a kiss on my jawline, making my attention shift back to our interaction. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Will you invite me in?” His breath tickles my neck and pebbles my skin.
Desire floods my bloodstream, and a slow, heavy breath escapes my mouth. Liam takes note of my reaction.
