Page 59 of Heart Match

Residence: Monte Carlo, Monaco

Height: 6’ 1’’/ 1.85m

Country (sports): France

Grand Slam titles (singles): 4

Plays: right-handed (one-handed backhand)

Coaches: Florian Provost (2002–2018), Maurice Bellegarde (2018– )

Prize money: USD $85,657,178

Official website: lucaslamaire.com

Early life and background

Lucas was born in Reims, France on November 6th, 1993, to Annette and Dominique Lamaire—who was also a professional tennis player and became tennis coach and founder of the Lamaire Academy after his retirement. Lucas has a younger brother, Jules Dominique Lamaire, who is also a professional tennis player in the boy’s category. Lucas grew up between Paris and Reims, where his family owns the Champagne House Lamaire. He started playing tennis when he was only six years old.

Personal life

Lucas Lamaire dated tennis player Malia Ferdinand for almost two years. The pair decided to part ways because of distance and busy schedules. Lamaire hasn’t had a public relationship since.

Lamaire is an avid advocate for raising awareness for ocean pollution and is passionate about nature and wildlife.

There’s more. Way more than I can handle right now, or ever. I’m afraid of looking out the window and finding out that there are reporters crowding the front of the building. I can’t look at my phone because I don’t know what to do with all the messages and people calling.

Today at 6:25 pm

Caleb: Damn girl, why am I finding out about this on the news?

Haley: Why didn’t you mention the simple fact that you’re dating one of the hottest men in the world? You go Olivia!

Lexi: Livvy, are you ok?

I toss my phone at the couch.

I turn on ESPN and there he is, playing. I can’t even believe what my eyes are seeing. It’s as though I still hoped that everyone around me was wrong and that it was only a misunderstanding, despite what Wikipedia said.

It’s really him, dressed in white sports clothes with his cap backwards. I’d recognise that ass and those magnetic eyes anywhere in the world. His last name’s on the corner of the TV, LAMAIRE, indicating his score, probably. I have no idea. And I don’t care. I can’t focus on anything right now. I turn it off, get dressed and go out for a run, because that’s the only thing that can help me clear my head.

Yes, I already ran this morning, and yes it’s pouring outside, but I go anyways. The least of my problems is getting wet running in the rain. And so I run. Faster than I normally do. Angrier than I ever have. Hurt and betrayed. The only person in the world most unaware of my own life. I want to run until I burn all my thoughts away, because organising them won’t do.

By the time I get back home it’s late. 10:00 pm kinda late. At some point during my run I stopped and screamed at a tree. As if she were the one to be blamed. I cursed and yelled all my reasons for being mad and angry. I talked to her as if she were myself. I did not cry. Tears didn’t even try to form. I guess they were afraid of me, of what I would do if they dared come out. I stopped when my voice became hoarse and I started coughing.

I left a trail of water behind me. It started at the hall of the building, then the lift until my front door, where I’m taking off my soaking wet running shoes and socks.

‘Who’s there?’

Oh for fuck’s sake, is Mrs. Thompson still awake?

This time she opens the door before I open mine. I consider ignoring her and try to get in my flat as fast as I can, but I don’t make it in time.

‘Olivia, is that you?’ she says, peeking out her half-opened door, as if she could see clearly. She’s holding on to her walker, which is now trapped between the door and the door frame. I feel bad and go help her.

‘Yes, Mrs. Thompson, it’s me. Do you need help?’

‘No, no, no help.’ She raises her hand at me.

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