40-Love - Olivia Dade Page 0,76

to leave the house again once I’m there.”

He understood now, and his shoulders slumped against that damp wall in relief.

Ducking his head, he tried unsuccessfully to catch her eye. “You’re wondering if your life would bore me.”

“Yeah.” It was an exhalation as much as a word.

Now that his heart had restarted, her decision to broach such a fraught topic heartened him. No, downright delighted him. If she was worrying about how he’d fit into her daily life, she was picturing a possible future together. Considering how it would work.

Even better: He had a good answer for those worries. An honest answer, too.

With one scoot to the side, he had his hip pressed against hers. “Älskling, I didn’t want to leave professional tennis the way I did. But even at my most bitter, I loved the amount of unscheduled time I had after my retirement. I still do.”

Suddenly, he had eye contact again, and her fingers were no longer bone-white from tension. Which meant he could cover them with his own.

“The public saw my matches.” As she relaxed, he turned her hand over and held it. “They didn’t see me with my coach, reviewing endless tapes of my play and my opponents’ matches. They didn’t see me on the court, practicing with a hitting partner. They didn’t see me with doctors and physical therapists as I recovered from my injuries and surgeries. They didn’t see me with a trainer, doing strength and endurance and flexibility training, or see me signing autographs at an event, or see me traveling with my team. My coach, my hitting partner, my physio….”

He trailed off, shaking his head. “So many commitments. So many people. Good people, but an endless stream of them. Always. I miss them sometimes, but I’m glad to have more quiet time and more time to myself now.”

She was listening intently, that familiar trident between her brows. “Were you ever alone?”

“Late at night. Then I was pretty much always by myself in an unfamiliar, cold hotel room, trying my best to get enough sleep.” Somehow, he’d almost forgotten that part.

“So it was all or nothing.” The squeeze of her hand was gentle. Warm. “People you saw for work or no one at all.”

He considered that. “A lot of the time, I guess.”

Odd how many places loneliness could find him. In a crowded arena. Alone in a too-hard, silent bed. In the aftermath of casual sex, emotional isolation chasing hard on the heels of momentary physical satisfaction.

The latter had been a recent discovery, and not a welcome one. He’d been trying his best to ignore the realization, to bury it in yet more work, yet more sex, but no longer. Not after Tess had showed him what the alternative felt like.

Connection. He wanted more of it. More of her.

Lifting their hands, he kissed her knuckles. “What I’m trying to say is, yes, I had lots of people around me and attended public events before, and I occasionally travel to the mainland and get together with coworkers now. They’re good people, and I enjoy their company. No matter what I end up doing with my life, I would want that life to include friends, and sometimes I’d want to see those friends. With or without my partner. But last night was—”

Blisteringly hot. Heart-wrenching. Companionable.

“—perfect.” He rested his cheek against the back of her hand. “That’s what I want, Tess. That’s who I am, on a daily basis. Your life wouldn’t bore me. You wouldn’t bore me.”

Her eyes were wide. Cautious. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” One word. The only one necessary, stark and uncompromising and honest.

Even Tess couldn’t misinterpret that answer, though she’d most likely try.

She was staring at him, unblinking, her lips parted.

Those lips barely moved as she spoke, her whisper almost inaudible. “How the hell can a twenty-six-year-old athlete be the perfect boyfriend for me? In what universe is that even possible?”

Boyfriend? Perfect boyfriend?

This was the greatest morning ever, bar none.

He straightened against the wall and beamed at her. “I’m your boyfriend?”

“Shit.” Her eyes squeezed shut, her brow wrinkling as she cringed. “Yes. No. Well, kind of. I mean, at least for now. I leave in a week, and—”

He was taking that as a yes in wary-Tess-speak. At least for now, as she’d said. And if that was the wrong interpretation, she’d no doubt tell him. Loudly, with one eyebrow raised to the heavens.

Changing for now into something more long-term might prove challenging, but he still had a week to convince her. A lot could happen