Page 84 of Match Point

‘Wait, you think he was talking about Aidan?’ I stare at him in disbelief. ‘I just assumed he was talking about you and your dad or something, I didn’t… surely he wouldn’t stoop that low.’

‘Yes, he would,’ Kieran says gravely, a glaze of sadness over his eyes. ‘He would, and he did.’ He swallows, his forehead creasing as he looks down at his hands in his lap. ‘Aidan had depression. Not many people know that. My dad didn’t like to talk about it and he felt it was a family matter. He said he wanted to protect him, so we kept it quiet. Aidan had been on meds since his teens and… he’d struggled.’ He pauses, sitting there quiet and pensive. When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. ‘Most people know that he died of an overdose. They don’t know that we’re not sure it was an accident.’

I feel sick, my gut wrenching in pain.

‘Kieran,’ I whisper, hot tears filling my eyes, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘There were always rumours surrounding his death,’ he says, lifting his chin and inhaling deeply through his nose. ‘Since his issues with mental health weren’t widely known, a lot of people blamed what happened on the pressure of being in the sport. They think he couldn’t handle it.’ When he turns his head to look at me, his eyes are glistening. ‘They’re wrong. Tennis helped him. He came alive when he focused on the next match. He didn’t mind the pressure. He enjoyed the competition. You should have seen him play, Flossie. He was born to play tennis. The one place he felt safe and in control was on the court.’

I sniff, giving him a watery smile.

‘I punched Chris Courtney last night because he was implying Aidan couldn’t handle the pressure, and that’s why he did what he did.’ Kieran’s face crumples and he reaches up to rub his forehead. ‘I shouldn’t have risen to it.’

Unable to fight the need to hold him any longer, I shuffle down the bed and move so I’m kneeling next to him before I gently wrap my arms around him, clasping my hands over his far shoulder and resting my forehead on the one nearest to me. He doesn’t say anything, but reaches up to place his hand over mine and dips his chin to rest on my forearm. We stay like that for a moment, and I lose myself in focusing on his breathing. It’s shaky and uneven at first, but eventually becomes slow and steady. When I lift my head to look at him, I don’t loosen my grip, refusing to let him go quite yet.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ I say quietly.

He turns his head and leans in, nudging his nose against mine before he kisses me, slow and gentle, his fingers brushing along my arm as his body slowly swivels towards me and then trailing around my shoulder and down to my waist. He pulls me closer as our kiss deepens and I bring my hands to rest on the nape of his neck.

When we break the kiss, he keeps his eyes closed and presses his forehead against mine. He lets out a small, contented sigh and a gratified warmth glows and swells in my belly as I interlace my fingers behind his neck, holding him there. No matter how close I am to this man, I want to be closer.

‘Will you be at the match today?’ he asks. ‘If you’re free, I’d like you to come sit with the team and watch the fourth round.’

I bite my lip. ‘Kieran, I’d love to come, but after last night, I don’t think Neil will be happy for me to be there. In terms of winning him over, it couldn’t have gone worse for me.’

‘I’m the one playing. Neil doesn’t get a say in who I invite to watch,’ he states firmly, getting up from the bed to go get his tennis bag ready. ‘And with the headlines today, I’m going to need all the help I can get. I’d like you there.’

‘If you really think it will help, then sure,’ I say, unable to stop a smile at his insistence. ‘I feel very honoured.’ I hesitate, watching him carefully. ‘Have you spoken to Neil yet? He looked mad when we left.’

‘I’m sure he’ll want to talk when he picks me up in a minute. I’ve had a lot of emails from Nicole, my publicist. I do not envy her this morning.’

‘You certainly keep your publicity team on their toes.’

‘Speaking of publicity, Nicole has mentioned that you and she might want to have a chat today about a few things.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘What to say to the press, what not to say—’

‘That’s easy,’ I cut in, taking a large gulp of my coffee, ‘I just won’t talk to them at all. There. She doesn’t need to come over now.’

‘I think she’ll also want to check you’re… prepared.’ He finishes zipping up his bag and throwing it on the end of the bed, before he puts his hands on his hips and gives me a hard stare. ‘Last night changed things, Flossie. I couldn’t go for a jog this morning, because reporters pretty much set up camp out on the road last night. They are all over this story, and a large component of it is you.’

‘Me?’ I clasp my mug, raising my eyebrows. ‘But there’s nothing to say about me.’

‘They’ll find something to say; they always do. God, what a fucking mess.’ He sighs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I really am sorry, Flossie. We’ll do our best to lie low and hopefully this will blow over soon. I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus on the match today with all this shite going on.’

‘You’re just going to go play a bit of tennis, remember? One point after the other,’ I say, trying my best to put him at ease. ‘A few silly printed words don’t need to affect your forehand. Nothing matters out there on the court but the tennis. Everything else is background noise.’

‘I know. I could have done without the extra attention, that’s all.’

‘You’re going to have extra attention anyway if you get through to the fifth round.’

‘You mean, the quarter-finals.’

My eyes widen at him. ‘Next round is the quarter-finals? Shit,’ I blurt out, as he nods solemnly.

‘I’m going into this as the major underdog and, thanks to today’s headlines, I doubt the crowd will be on my side.’

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