Page 65 of Backhanded Compliments

Luca lets go. “Vladimir,” Luca says, climbing into bed with a groan.

“Stay lying down. It’s better for you,” Juliette says, touching Luca’s shoulder. She leans on the doorjamb. “Hey, Vladimir,” she calls, and Luca’s coach startles in the center of the abandoned living room.

“Oh, erm, hello, Juliette,” Vladimir says, a comically shocked expression on his face.

“Luca’s in her room,” Juliette says, unsure how to explain why she’s here.

Vladimir tilts his head, blue eyes scrutinizing Juliette’s face. Like Luca, he gives absolutely nothing away. “I brought food. I didn’t know you’d be here.” Juliette glances down at the white bag bursting with takeout containers.

“Neither did Luca. I showed up unannounced,” Juliette says.“Anyway, I should go. Early practice time.” It’s a lie, but she’s uncomfortable under Vladimir’s impassive scrutiny.

She glances over her shoulder and meets Luca’s eyes. “I’ll see you in Miami, then, yeah?” It’s a hope, a promise, even if it feels too far away. Still, she smiles at Luca.

Luca nods. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Lucky Luca,” Juliette teases as she backs out the door and Luca grins, that adorable dimple popping out again.

Juliette gathers her gaming console, shoving all the cables into her backpack haphazardly before stepping out of Luca’s room and sagging against the door. She knows her sisters will want an update, but she stands in the peace of knowing she hasn’t messed up this time. And, for once, she isn’t afraid of the butterflies tickling the inside of her stomach.

She heads out to the lobby and orders an Uber to take her back to Claudia’s apartment. She shoots their group chat a quick text to tell them she’s on her way back. She expects one of them to call, but Octavia responds first.

OCTAVIA

Antony is pissed you skipped practice. He’s here. Brace yourself.

Juliette’s stomach drops and all of her giddy joy freezes into immediate dread. The Uber arrives, and Juliette climbs in the back.

JULIETTE

Thanks for the warning D: <

She fidgets with her phone as the lights of London blur together. She should have answered her father’s million questions about why she was skipping practice, beyond a simpleI am.At the same time,though, Antony Ricci wouldn’t have understood. He has never been good at oscillating between being a father and being her coach.

Juliette wonders which Antony she’ll have the pleasure of arguing with tonight. Probably both at once. Or, whichever one will lay the most guilt onto Juliette’s shoulders.

Too soon, the Uber turns onto Claudia’s quiet street and stops in front of her building. Slowly, as if her joints are made of rusted metal, Juliette gets out of the car and heads into Claudia’s apartment. She lets the door bang shut, announcing her arrival, and hears the murmur of conversation die.

Juliette winces. She slings her backpack around the banister of the stairs and takes a deep breath before wandering into the living room.

“Hey, Jules!” Livia says, lying across the bay window seat. She grins, but it’s too wide and uncomfortable. Octavia is nowhere to be seen. Claudia is sitting across from their father in her usual love seat, but this time she’s upright, feet flat on the floor.

“Juliette,” Antony says, staring at her from the couch she and her sisters had gossiped and snacked on just a week ago.

“Hey,” Juliette says.

With deliberate slowness, Antony rises from the couch. “Let’s talk,” he says, calm and even-toned. He won’t yell at Juliette in front of her sisters.

Livia flashes her a sympathetic thumbs-up, but Claudia doesn’t even look at her as she follows Antony into the back garden. The plants are growing wild, their blooms full of color and warmth, much like Claudia.

Antony plucks one of the flowers and twirls it in his fingers. “Do you want to win, Juliette?” he asks.

“Wimbledon?” Juliette asks for clarity.

Antony’s eyes snap to hers. “Anything. Wimbledon. Miami. Cincinnati. The US Open.”

“Yes,” Juliette says firmly.

“Good.” Antony sighs, a long-suffering and disappointed sound. “It does not seem like you do.”

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