Page 137 of Game Point
‘A three-day retreat in the Scottish wilderness?’ she stressed. ‘Our gift bags rival the shit they give out at the Oscars.’
I grinned over at her. ‘We are an hour outside of Inverness. I’m not sure if this counts as wilderness.’
The wedding had been held at Scottie’s mum’s family estate; the land had apparently been in her family for generations. But after the house fell to ruin, the Sinclairs had moved down to the south, and Scottie’s mother, Kit, had taken it upon herself a decade ago to restore the near literal castle to its former glory.
Dylan looked unconvinced, a hand on her hip. ‘I’m notsure. Kit was talking about taking us fishing tomorrow. This is as wild as I’m willing to get.’
‘Can everyone please grab a loved one and join the bride and groom on the dancefloor,’ the words boomed over the music, and the crowd around us moved swiftly, each of them pairing up and heading straight for the dancefloor.
I expected a fight from Dylan. But instead, she surprised me, her hands slipped into mine, pulling our bodies against each other, and I couldn’t help the reminder of why I loved her, the feeling like a warm ache in my heart.
After a trip back to the UK, to introduce Dylan to my family and ship over the rest of my things, we’d returned to Australia, her house slowly becoming ours as we unpacked her things, with mine.
A spare bed had been built in the guest room, but apart from the occasional guest, it remained untouched. Then we’d travelled, taking our time across the country, before trekking across Asia, enjoying being away from the court.
When she felt ready, she’d rejoined the tournaments, entering competitions where I could support her. With Dylan, even hotels felt like home.
I’d been working as a commentator, enjoying the ability to still be a part of the sport even if it was from the box. I sat out her matches, instead watching from the stands as a fan. They’d let me commentate one, but apparently my bias was a little too obvious.
‘So, this isn’t your style?’ I asked, an eyebrow pushed up.
‘Not exactly.’ We stayed together, moving slowly in the crowd, my hands pressing against bare soft skin. A small smile crept onto her lips, as she winked, ‘The bride’s night was my kind of thing though.’
All the guests had beenswornto secrecy about the trip, each of them giggling to each other, whispering as they discussed the details too scandalous for their partners.
‘Do I want to know?’ I mumbled, knowing I’d never find out.
She only raised an eyebrow, ‘Dare I ask about Nico’s bucks’ night?’
‘Nico was asleep by ten!’ I smirked, remembering the trip we all took to Miami. ‘I mean we also all decided to go to bed. But we drew penises on his face before we did.’
‘Sounds like Nico.’ She laughed, the sound never growing old, always sounding perfect. ‘Today has been nice,’ she admitted. ‘But I don’t think a big thing like this is something I’d want.’
‘No?’ I tilted my head. She took a moment, her gaze taking in the large crowd. There had been people flying in from all corners of the world for the big day. It was like a goddamn tennis reunion around here. There wasn’t a Wimbledon winner alive who wasn’t here.
‘More like …’ she looked back at me, ‘What about back home, on the beach. Our families, some friends.’
‘We could have the reception in the yard,’ I suggested, the image playing perfectly in my head. Dylan, dressed probably in any colour other than white, her brunette hair down, blowing in the wind.
Both of us, standing on the quiet beach just outside Melbourne, the one where I’d got down on one knee.
‘Exactly,’ she lit up at the idea. I couldn’t help leaning close, her perfume filling the air as I pressed my lips to hers.She smelt like home.
I rested my head against her forehead. The musicchanged around us, but we kept dancing, kept swaying. ‘That sounds perfect.’
‘Yeah?’ Her expression turned slightly worried. ‘I’d have thought you’d want something like … this.’ Dylan motioned around the busy ballroom. ‘Something big. Every single person you’ve ever met in your life all gathered in one room.’
How did I tell her she was all I wanted?
‘I want what you want,’ I said, ‘and not just because it’s what you’ve asked for, but because it sounds perfect to me.’
Her lips found mine again, this time pulling me in deeper.
‘Get a room, you two.’ I heard the words, turning on instinct to find Inés grinning from the other side of the dancefloor, her arms wrapped around her own date.
Dylan just pulled away, sticking her middle finger up at her friend, before kissing me again, not caring at all about who saw. I was hers, and everyone knew it.
The cold wind blew hard across the tennis court, the grey sky unwilling to allow any sunshine in.
