Page 2 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

Out of habit, Endy’s left thumb caressed her empty ring finger. “I’m not lonely,” she insisted.

“Don’t worry about it,” the EMT replied, amused. He wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Paul’s arm. “But actually, I have a girlfriend. We’re getting married this summer, next to a lake in Tahoe.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad for us,” Paul sighed. “The girlfriend part, not the lake part. I love Tahoe in the summer.”

It was as if the EMT had placed the blood pressure cuff around her heart and pumped it tight. Endy took a deep breath to try and halt the clenching feeling in her chest. The thought of any summer wedding in Tahoe still wrecked her.

Becausesheshould have been the one getting married in Tahoe.

Instead, the band was canceled, invitations withdrawn, and her two-carat diamond engagement ring returned.

When Bennett had broken up with Endy to get back together with his ex-girlfriend, Endy had been floored. They had had a long engagement and were just months from the wedding. But he’d left her. Bennett had just simply left.

And Endy, her heart broken in a million pieces, had ended up alone.

Ever since the breakup, Endy questioned whether it was even possible for her to find someone again. She didn’t want anything special … just someone she couldn’t stop staring at, someone who made her laugh, someone whose arms would wrap around her in a perfect fit. And most importantly, someone with whom she could be herself—unadorned, unchanged, unapologetic.

A relationship completely unlike the one she had had with Bennett.

But, two years later, Endy had not met anyone she was interested in enough to go on more than a couple of dates with. The fact was, she worked and lived in a city that didn’t offer a lot of options. The men, with their median age of sixty, gray hair—if any at all—and dinner times beginning at five o’clock, were more like her grandfather than potential suitors. How was she supposed to meet someone, let alone fall in love again?

Maybe Paul wasn’t so wrong … Endy probably was a little lonely.

A flock of geese honked their way overhead, casting shadows across the pickleball court, and Endy raised her hand to shade her eyes. She watched the geese disappear behind a stand of tall palm trees.

“So, tell me what happened before we got here,” said the hot EMT, moving his finger back and forth in front of Paul’s eyes.

Paul sighed. “I was playing pretty aggressively for a bit, and set up to hit a dink into the kitchen, but then I got a little nauseous and went to sit down under the awning. I didn’t make it far before I got dizzy and had to—”

“Did you just say ‘a dink into the kitchen’?” asked the baffled EMT, his head cocked.

“It’s a drop shot into the non-volley zone,” huffed Paul. “Everybody knows tha—”

“He fell to his knees,” interrupted a short, wiry man as he approached, his hand still clutching a pickleball paddle. “His symptoms presented what could have been heatstroke or even a heart attack. Neither is anything to mess around with.”

“I told him that I was just dehydrated,” said Paul. “But Steven is a retired doctor. He insisted on calling 911.”

Endy got up from the court. “Paul tends to overdo—”

“No, I don’t,” interrupted Paul.

“Yes, you do,” replied Endy. “Just last week you had those headaches from actually being dehydrated.”

The EMT removed the blood pressure cuff and held out his hand to help Paul sit up. “Well, you both are probably right. While your vitals seem fine now, the nausea and dizziness are concerning.” He tucked his equipment into his kit. “Go home and take a cool shower, drink a lot of fluids, and make an appointment to see your doctor as soon as you can … just to be on the safe side.” His mirrored sunglasses reflected the red lights still flashing at the curb.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly,” Paul said, nodding. He leaned into the EMT and added in a conspiring way, “But are you sure you don’t want to, maybe, take Endy out for dinner and get to know her?”

“I would if I weren’t already taken.” The EMT’s lips pulled up on the side. “She might actually be hotter than the desert in summer.”

“And she’s more than mortified with this whole interaction,” interrupted Endy, rolling her eyes and placing her hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Thanks, guys. We’ll take care of Mr. Matchmaker from here.”

Endy walked with the EMTs as they carried their equipment back to their van. Once in the cab, the older EMT leaned out his open window.

“You seem like a catch, so I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere.” His hand gestured out past Endy. “With the massive interest in this sport, who knows, maybe you’ll meet your soulmate through pickleball.”

The EMT knocked his fist on the door, then turned off the flashing red lights, and the van started pulling away from the curb.

Endy raised her hand in a wave and looked out over the courts filled with retirees. She shouted after the retreating EMTs, “Sure, and maybe it’ll snow in August in Palm Springs!”

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