Game of Love (43 page)

Gabriel looked up. “I thought you were in England. I saw you on TV.”

“I’m going back later tonight.”

His mom showed up from the den, a glass of red wine in her hand. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Mom, I am tired of waiting.”

“What are you talking about?” his mom asked.

Gabriel chuckled. “We’ve been drinking, and he’s the only drunk in the house.” Both his parents laughed.

“I’m here to talk about Linda,” he said. At that same instant, the sliding door to the yard opened.

“What about me?”

Andre stared in disbelief. Linda had three ripe tomatoes in her hands.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her.

“We asked you first,” his mom said.

“I came to…” he didn’t know what to say.

Linda showed the tomatoes to Gabriel. “Will these do,
Tio
?” she asked.

“Yes. Perfect. Wash them then peel the skin. I’ll find the grater. Also, prepare two garlic cloves. I’ll show you my father’s secret ingredient for
Pan con Tomate
.”

Linda nodded then went to the sink. She glanced at Andre. “Will you join us for dinner? My mom should arrive any minute now.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I came here to…”

She grinned. “Your dad came over last week. We went to the beach and talked for a long while.
Tio
Gabriel just needed time.”

Andre pulled his dad to the side. “What made you finally go to her? Was it our talk?”

He shook his head. “I told you, I was busy doing something.”

Andre stared at him, trying to understand.

“Your
tio
had hundreds of ideas. He would sketch them on any random paper in the house, then forget about them. I kept all of them, four boxes of ideas. I put together all his thoughts and notes into an album. It wasn’t easy. Not because it was a lot of work, though it was. The real hard part was remembering him and how he’d get excited over a new idea, talk about it, get me excited, and then lose all interest a week later. Each one I read brought fresh tears. It was draining, but also exciting–some of his ideas are still amazing. I finished the album last week and gave it to Linda. Maybe one day you and Linda can turn some of his ideas into reality.”

Andre’s mouth had gone dry. “That’s amazing,
Papa
.”

“You don’t have to solve all the problems,
Andres
,” his father said. “Sometimes the problems will solve themselves if you give it time.”

Andre tried to nod—wanted to hug his father, whom he had never hugged before.

Someone pulled his elbow.

“Come, Andre,” his mom said, tugging him toward the den. “Let’s drink wine while they prepare dinner. I want to know more about the British girl. Does she do yoga, because those legs, and that ass? It’s just not fair.”

On Tuesday, after having eliminated her opponent in the quarterfinal match, Gemma thought about her strong run in the last two matches. Maybe she had been right after all. Andre was a distraction. Without him, she had dismantled her opponents. But according to his earlier text, his plane was due to land soon.

She had to be careful. She didn’t want to lose momentum. She had one day’s rest before her semifinal match on Thursday against Sonia–her third chance this year.

Her mobile rang—
Andre
.

“Welcome,” Gemma said.

“It’s great to hear your voice again,” Andre said. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Sorry, yes I am.” As she spoke the words, something collapsed in her heart.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Andre, it’s best I remain focused on my upcoming match.”

A beat. “Sure, no worries. Well, I wanted to tell you in person, but good news should be shared. The Met arrested the extortionist.”

“Are you serious?” Lead lifted off her shoulders.

“Yes. DCI Whitby has his hands on the evidence. Original footage and more. I will be visiting the team in the morning to help scan the systems for uploads, transfers, or copies. We’ll know if any other pieces of the material exist, and put this story to bed.”

For a moment she considered calling him over, but stopped herself. Though on mute, the footage on the telly was clear: a news segment showing the arrival of Andre at Heathrow and the paparazzi surrounding him. Must have been video from minutes earlier. Bedric had been right. It had already happened. She refused to allow a replay of Australia. Not with Andre, not with anyone.

Andre hung up and closed his eyes. He had not told her that he had quit his job, nor that the stalker had been hired by his employer. She didn’t want to deal with any of this until after the tournament. He could and would respect that.

He was finally free, but had no good way to celebrate. The cab was driving him to Gemma’s home. No point now. He picked up his cell and dialed.

“I’m back in town. Are you free?” he asked.

After a brief conversation, he hung up and tapped on the driver’s glass partition.

“Change of plans. Please take me to Ten Downing Street.”

“The PM’s residence?” the driver asked.

“That’s the one.”

“Did it work?” the Prime Minister asked.

“Like magic. I can’t thank you enough.” Andre didn’t want to share more than he had to.

“Glad to hear it,” the PM said, sinking deep into the sofa seat. “Clearly I’m happy you broke the chains. I’m also happy I don’t have to actually pay that kind of money.”

They drank a toast.

“As I said that night at your home, I needed something to bluff with.” At the time, Andre had not expected M&T to bury themselves with the extortion letter. In their attempt to hold on to him, they had made it easier for Andre to leave.

“Andre, I would have gone directly to the queen and asked her to personally fund it if it meant we would have your services for the next five years. And I would be a great boss.”

Andre laughed.

“I’ll take this as your R.S.V.P. for Emily’s engagement. I knew you’d come up with a clever plan. What will you do now? Professionally, I mean. I’m sure you have expenses–”

“I’ll be fine. I have no financial worries. You and my uncle can rest comfortably.”

“Well. Fantastic. Now on to a more important matter. What’s the story with you and Gemma?”

Andre leaned forward. “Have you ever watched the sunset on a tropical island?”

The PM gave a curious look. “Sure, Tahiti a few years back.”

“Can you describe it?”

“Beautiful, immense, reminded me of how small we are and our relative insignificance. Also, I felt sad, I admit. It lasted but for the briefest of moments.”

“Mortals can’t hold on to the sunset. It will set when it wants to. Gemma’s life, the circumstances, and the circus that has grown over the past two weeks have thrown her off. She’s closed herself off again. Her survival instinct has kicked in.”

“So what’s the plan? How will you address this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think this is a problem I’ll be able to solve.” What was he going to do? Prepare a PowerPoint presentation? Build a spreadsheet that showed why they were perfect for each other? This one was up to her. And as much as the implications scared him, he knew that was the only way.

“I’m sorry, Andre,” the PM said.

Andre forced a smile. “At least we’re in the semifinals now,” he said, as he raised his glass in a mock toast.

“It’s only a game, son. Just a stupid game.”

“Ability may get you to the top, but it takes character to keep you there.”
~John Wooden

ame day tradition remained the same as always. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, looking at a point in space. A light sheen of perspiration dusted her arms and legs, and her breathing was moderate. Everything appeared to be in place, except her mind wasn’t actually focused on the game. Instead she was pretending, going through the motions.

Her thoughts were not the typical mantra of ‘one point at a time.’ Instead, her brain activity was erratic and confused by thoughts of a future with Andre that were now in question.

A couple of weeks ago, she would not have dreamt that sitting here, waiting for her seminal match at Wimbledon, it would be thoughts of Andre distracting her.

She had planned and expected to win many Grand Slams–a current-day Steffi Graf. She wanted the record. But after five years of trying and disappointing the experts and herself, she would be happy with one. And if she were to win one, she hoped it would be Wimbledon. For her. For her dad.