Page 22 of The Game

She shakes her head. “Not me. It’s part and parcel of being a successful athlete, I think. I have a short career window, and I have to make the mostof it. Sponsorship is about how I perform, but it’s also about having a high profile, too. I’ve made my peace with it to a certain extent. They’re going to print stories, whether you like it or not, and I fought for this life.” She shrugs. “It’s also so easy to answer those kinds of questions.”

“I presume you don’t want me to be your real boyfriend?” I blurt out without thinking. Fuck, now why did I say that? There’s no way she’d be interested in me.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t get that vibe from you.”

Heat creeps up my neck. She’s an amazing woman. Am I really standoffish like that? Yeah, okay, but the very idea I’m behaving like that with someone like Anna Talanova … I’m cautious, I get that. Memories of Celine are never far from my mind, even though it’s been over ten years. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can see her earnest face imploring me to do something. Half the time I can’t remember what it was. I shake my head.

Anna waves a hand, misinterpreting my silence. “I understand, Adam. Don’t sweat it. I’m not here for ten months of the year, and I’m off to the Australian Open in seven weeks. I’m also coming out of a bad breakup, so something easy and platonic was exactly what I was thinking.”

“I’m down with that.” But unease winds through my gut again, as though I’ve misstepped somehow.

The sun sparkles through the avenue of trees, orange leaves providing a soft carpet underfoot as Pepper sniffs at anything she can find.

“Is this breakup something I should know about if we’re going to attend some more events together?” There was speculation in the press about a man named Arty Maroz, and I remember that name from the red carpet, too.

She rolls her lips together. “Arty Maroz. Olympic athlete, downhill skier. He’s turned out to be quite the asshole. And before that I was with a guy …” She trails off, and her small, neat teeth work their way over her bottom lip. “He insisted I did everything the way he wanted, down to the last detail. My outfits, my hair. Lots of gaslighting. Praise if I did the right thing. I was young and didn’t realize how bad that was. He was good to me for big chunks of time and supported my career … at least initially.” She shakes her head.

Now I’m all sorts of curious. “Wow, that sounds like a nightmare.” But God, do I get it. For the last ten years, I’ve tortured myself with what-ifs and felt that gullible was my middle name. I can never tell Anna that, though.

“It was.” Her breath shudders out. “I’m glad I’m out of it. The control got worse and worse the more successful I got. He would turn up unexpectedly, raging, and message me over and over again if I was anywhere without him. Arty was supposed to be my attempt to have a more normal relationship, whatever that means. Now all I’m thinking is I’m done with men forever.”

A slight tremor runs through her hand as she lifts her coffee cup to her lips and takes a sip. “I don’t believe in love anymore,” she adds, then laughs. “If I ever did. I think I’m destined to be on my own.”

That’s a crime for a woman as lovely as Anna. But, God, how does this whole conversation mirror my own experience in the scariest ways? “Don’t beat yourself up or think you were gullible. People can be so convincing.”

She eyes me for a second, then says, “Somehow I need to get …” She hesitates. “… Back to my normal self. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely. I dated a woman at college who was very difficult. Demanding.” I stare off down the path snaking through the trees, the noise of the city distant and buried. “I don’t think I’ve ever sorted out what was real and what wasn’t from that relationship.”

Anna smiles up at me. “Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” God, I don’t want to talk to Anna about how fooled I was. “I’ve got a company that’s struggling, so I am totally down with uncomplicated.”

I’ve kept my head down and focused on my business for the last ten years. I wouldn’t say I was lonely exactly. I have great friends and an amazing team, but I’m aware I’m on my own, in every sense of that phrase.

She gives me a big, genuine smile and holds out her hand. “Friends?”

She doesn’t seem to mind that I haven’t explained more, and the warmth of the space she’s giving me to breathe percolates through my body.

I take her small warm fingers in my hand. “Definitely.”

9

ADAM

Two days later a video of Pepper in what appears to be a wind tunnel drops into WhatsApp. Her eyes are shut, and her furry little head is tipped back like she’s in ecstasy. I stop working on the board I’m designing as a laugh barrels up my throat. She closed her eyes like that every time I gave her a rubdown. One word from Anna follows the video:

Blow-dry!

I like a woman who’s easy to please. Where are you?

A fancy-ass dog salon on Lexington.

Sounds like fun.

Yes! The pinnacle of a woman’s existence is a bespoke wash and dry.

A bespoke wash and dry?I could make some cheeky comment here,but that would be treading over a line, right? Adam, don’t be an ass. Who in their right mind makes jokes like that to a world-class tennis player? The dots stop and start again:

---