I only realised I was staring, lost to the conversation, when Toni gave me a tentative smile. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Sorry, I’m so used to closing my mouth about my personal life that I think I’ve forgotten how to just talk about it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, I want to,” I interrupted her. “I’m sure you know what this life is like. The practice schedule, the travel. I haven’t really tried since my last breakup. It was just too much to…” I struggled to find the right word.
“Juggle?” Toni supplied. Her accent gave the J a soft Y sound, and I liked it a lot. “I get that. In fact it was the only upside of losing all that time to injury. I got to see what a normal life looked like again for a while. Keeping regular hours, being in one country for longer than a month. I can see why most people do that.”
We were interrupted by the discreet bell calling us all to dinner. My mother was bearing down on me, still in a good mood from our relaxed day and all the positive attention. She hated when I wandered off at these things, and despite my change in attitude, she still didn’t trust me to come and sit through dinner.
Worse, Jürgen had detached himself from the posse of beautiful girls and was making his way as though to escort me to dinner. That wasn’t necessary, but he’d done it the other times we’d ended up champions together. I always suspected he didn’t want me to make my own entrance and get any of the limelight to myself.
Only when he got to us, he found himself distracted by Toni.
“Ruiz, right?” He offered his hand to shake. “Didn’t know you were back.”
Oh. Of course he knew what had been happening with her.
“Yeah, only made it to the second round, though,” Toni replied, shaking his hand so briefly I wasn’t sure both hands had actually made contact. “Still, there’s always the US Open.”
“Oh, for sure. I plan on winning that one too. You in the mood, Larsson?”
I glared at him. Now we were back to his one-of-the-boys routine? God, he exhausted me.
“Right, let’s go sit up front so everyone can stare at us.” He offered his arm, which was at least gentlemanly. “My date’s waiting in there, or I’d consider a last-minute trade,” he added for Toni’s benefit.
Well, that did it.
“Jürgen, there are actually women in this world not waiting around for your attention to land on them. Besides, Toni is here as my guest. She’ll be sitting with me.”
I gave her a pleading glance. No doubt she had her own table, probably with her friends from the circuit, and here I was yanking her up to the winners’ table without even asking.
“Huh, I knew about you, Larsson, but I hadn’t figured… You been recruiting?”
“For God’s sake,” I muttered, but I was relieved when Toni took my arm instead and we marched right into the main ballroom. Of course my entrance was greeted with applause—no different to coming on court, really; it’s just polite—but there was a definite murmur around the room about me arriving with another woman. At least most people in the place would know who she was.
“Sorry for changing your plans for you,” I said as we took our seats. My plus one’s place card simply read guest of Miss Larsson. “I never do that. I hate bossy.”
“I don’t mind bossy,” Toni said, leaning in closer to say it over the noise of the event. “Just for future reference.” Then she turned to the person on her right, introducing herself and chatting to James, who was half of the winning Men’s Doubles pair.
That left me to take a steadying sip of my water before launching into the pleasantries with the Chairman and host, who sat to my left.
Jürgen joined us, taking a seat next to his bored-looking date, and the lights dimmed across the room. Time for the speeches that would usher us into the meal and drinks.
Toni’s thigh grazed mine, the long skirts of our dresses slipping against each other for a split-second as she turned back to face the stage. I felt that barest of contact like an electrical current through my leg.
It was going to be a long evening.
Chapter Six
Somewhere in the bustle of the evening, I lost track of Toni. I had forgotten how many people wanted to talk at these dinners, and at every break in the programme, a new person would drop by to congratulate or ask a question. The selfies took a lot of time too, and I wished after a while that I could politely decline. Unfortunately, this crowd was full of people who had paid a small fortune or donated to various charities to be there, and between them and my fellow pros looking for social-media buzz, my cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling.
And as for my speech? The less said about that, the better. If I had natural ability with my forehand and speed, someone had borrowed heavily from my public speaking ability to make up for it. Thankfully, I didn’t have to say much beyond thanking people and making compliments about the organisation. That and always, always tell them that Wimbledon was your favourite tournament. Just like I said about the French Open in Paris and like I would hopefully say about the US Open in New York. Nobody minded a little white lie, as long as it was in their favour.
I hoped Toni had re-joined her friends at least or gone back to whatever plans
