Page 12 of Game Point
‘I was playing yesterday! I’m exhausted.’
Even when I arrived, the receptionist had looked at me as if to ask, ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
I held my arm out, extending the racket to point at him. ‘Need I remind you; I beat you at Wimbledon.’
We both made our way to the bench at the side of the court. I noticed a small limp in his walk, and the competitor in me wondered if I should get another game out of him so I could claim a victory. But the weaker and hung-over part cried out for mercy at the thought.
‘That was months ago. And I retired from that match. I practically handed you the win,’ Nico grabbed a water bottle and took a long, deep sip.At least it wasn’t only me feeling it today.
‘Oh, what, because you felt sorry for me?’ I joked, joining him on the bench as I threw my towel around the back of my neck.
Nico paused mid-sip. ‘Now I think about it – yes.’
Was this guy ever going to cut me a break?
‘Not because you were doing it for some girl?’
His eyes narrowed, ‘Some girl?’
I was actually a little afraid for a moment. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, should I rephrase?’
‘I think you should.’ He remained resolute in his stoniness. And for some odd reason, it warmed my heart.
My hand landed on his shoulder in apology. ‘You are in deep, my man.’
‘Can you blame me?’ His shoulder slackened under my touch. Then Nico stilled again as he quickly added, ‘Don’t answer that.’
‘Wasn’t going to.’
‘How are you doing … with everything?’
I tried to swallow down a sudden lump in my throat, the insinuation clear. When he texted this morning, telling (not asking) me to meet him at a court he’d booked, I’d suspected there was an ulterior motive.
‘It’s fine.’ I took a deep breath in. ‘I’m serious. The divorce had been a long time coming, and she’s happier this way. That’s all that matters.’
‘But what about your happiness?’
I smothered a grin. ‘Is Nico Kotas trying to talk about feelings with me?’
Any emotion disappeared from his tone. ‘Don’t die of shock.’
‘What has this woman done to you?’ I joked, but Nico was having none of it.
He grounded out his reply, ‘She has a name.’
‘Scottie,’ I said, feeling his prickliness a little too much. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve never known you to be so touchy. Over anything.’
‘Things change.’ He was wound so tightly; it was hard not to poke and make fun. But honestly, I’d never known him to be in any romantic relationship, and it was nice to see him so protective over her.
‘I see,’ I finished, letting him stay in his grumpy bubble. ‘Anyway, back to me. Happiness is not being married to somebody who wants different things than you,’ I resolved, the words a bitter truth on my tongue.
He fell silent, and I began to wonder if he was still irritated. Then, in a much softer tone, he said, ‘Can I ask what happened?’
‘You can ask …’ I trailed off, earning myself a raised eyebrow from Nico before I summarized in three painful words: ‘She wanted kids.’
‘And you don’t?’
I shook my head. ‘Never did.’
