Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  “I heard someone had hundreds of pizzas delivered to the models during Fashion Week. Then someone dressed in all black and a mask threw cookies at the runway during the show.”

  “I was nowhere near Paris during Fashion Week,” he replies with a wink.

  I roll my eyes. “Not surprising, since this was London’s Fashion Week.”

  He plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek, then whispers, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “I did see the report that came out that starving children in Africa eat more per week than the average model. I’m not sure the research methodology used was totally on the up and up, but it made for good headlines.”

  He flashes that panty-dropping smile. “It’s all about the headlines, baby. Oh, don’t forget that November 29th is ‘Save a Supermodel, Eat a Cheeseburger’ day. In ’n’ Out is having ten-cent burgers. I wanted to spend the day in one and give free burgers to any stick figure who walks in the door, but I was told that may be off putting.”

  “I don’t think it would go over well.” I grab my phone and look through my calendar. “I’ll be in Detroit. There’re a few restaurants near the stadium known for having outstanding burgers. I bet I can get the network to give me a crew to film me scarfing one down. If I make a big enough mess of myself, I bet they’ll probably air it during the game that week. It could be great coverage for the foundation.”

  He pulls me out of the chair and into his arms. “Oh, baby, you know what watching you eat does to me.”

  I playfully push him away. “Let’s not go there, okay?” He pouts, and I flash a pouty face right back at him. “Come on, Henrik. Don’t make this harder.”

  “That’s not me. It gets hard on its own just being with you.” He’s relentless.

  Just in the nick of time, the photographer comes back, and we go back to work. As soon as the shoot is over, I change, hoping to escape before Henrik’s mom spots me. I adore Jacoline. She’s wonderful and we have a great relationship, but I’m just not up for seeing her today. I’ve got to haul ass to San Diego to prepare for the Chargers’ game. I slip out of the building unnoticed and flag down the limo. The chauffer opens the door for me and lets me know there’s heavy traffic on I-5. It’ll be a long drive to San Diego.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” Henrik says as I slide in.

  “What are you doing here?” I put my purse on the seat next to me. “You’re supposed to be flying back to Berlin. Don’t you have a match tomorrow?”

  He drapes his arm across the back of my seat. “I decided I’ll catch a flight out of San Diego. You’ve been avoiding me, kind of like the way you were just going to leave without saying good-bye. What better way to get you to talk to me than to trap you for a few hours?” He wears a ridiculous grin.

  Pulling on my seatbelt, I roll my eyes. “You’re just so proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He taps his fingers together like Mr. Burns. “I have to tap into my inner evil genius to outsmart you.”

  “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

  He rests his right foot on his left knee. “I ran into Chase in New York a few weeks back.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I reply. “I hadn’t realized you two had met.” I lean forward and grab two bottles of water out of the mini fridge.

  He takes them both, opens mine, and gives it back. He smirks. “First time, actually. I introduced my fist with his face. It went over real well.”

  I drop my head into my hands. “What did you do, you hot head?”

  “I saw him with a girl on his lap, and while my first thought was to send you pictures so you’d leave his ass and come running back to me, my inner gentleman needed to defend your honor. Imagine my shock when I realized that you and he aren’t together.”

  I take a long drink from my water while I rack my brain for a response. “It’s complicated.”

  He crosses his arms. “Not good enough, Lamm. You broke things off with me because you said you loved him. I expected you would have filled him in. I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re still together.”

  “The whole world thinks we’re still together. Why should he be any different? And remember, I broke up with you because I couldn’t marry you if I knew I was in love with someone else, not so I could go back to him.”

  He covers my hand with his. “That makes no sense at all.”

  “I told you, Chase and I are toxic. We can’t be together. I just need to get over him so I can move on. We’re making an attempt to be friends, and so far, it’s working.”

  He pulls his hand back, then shifts in his seat. “I’ve changed my mind about announcing our breakup in December.”

  I take a sip of my water, then screw on the cap. “Why? All of the ads will have been out for a while. The PR people don’t think that us breaking up then will do anything to diminish the impact of the campaign as long as we show that we’re still friends, which we are. Between Christmas and New Year’s is paparazzi dead time. It’s the only time all year when we can drop a bomb with minimal press coverage.”

  He takes my hand, pulls it to his lips, and places soft kisses on it. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”

  I gently pull my hand away. “Henrik, please. I don’t want to go back over this.”

  He puts his hands on my knees. “I love you.”

  I pull my knees to the side. “And I love you too, but I’m in love with him. It isn’t fair to either of us to keep going while my feelings are so mixed up.”

  “I’ll wait,” he insists. “You’re worth waiting for, Arianna. Our connection is worth waiting for.”

  I rub my thumb across his jaw. “You’re the perfect man. You deserve someone who thinks you hang the moon. You shouldn’t be fighting the ghost of a dead relationship.”

  He looks down. “I deserve you. I wish I could make you see that.”

  I don’t know how to respond. Breaking his heart makes me sick to my stomach. I wish I knew a way to get him to give up hope on us.

  “Are you ever going to tell him?” he asks.

  “Maybe? I’m not sure there’s a point to telling him. We’ll never work. Plus, with how much worse Daddy has gotten, my focus is on him. My love life has to take a backseat.”

  In one swift movement, he unsnaps my seatbelt and sweeps me underneath him. “I’m sorry, did you say I could take you in the backseat? I’m happy to oblige.”

  I push him off me. “Knock it off, Casanova.”

  He pulls me up and puts his arm around me. “It got you to smile though. I still think that since you broke my heart, I should get friends with benefits privileges until you tell him. It’s the least you can do.”

  I roll my eyes and change the subject. For the rest of the traffic-laden trip, we chat about soccer and our mutual friends. By the time we arrive in San Diego, I remember why I love him so much and why we’ll never be more than friends. The chemistry simply isn’t there.

  As the limo pulls up to the hotel, I see a handful of reporters. I stare at Henrik. “You tipped them off?”

  “Probably my mother. She isn’t ready to give you up either.” The chauffer starts to open the door, and Henrik says, “Give us just a minute, please.” The chauffer closes the door, and Henrik sighs. “For what it’s worth, he seems like a good guy. If he weren’t my mortal enemy now, I might actually like him.”

  I kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you approve.”

  Henrik wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. “Oh, I don’t approve at all.” He releases me and kisses my cheek. “We can still release the announcement over the last week in December, but that doesn’t mean I’m done trying. I’m only agreeing because I know it will make your life easier.”

  I pull back and look him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

  “If you really love him, stop hiding from him. You need to at least try, or you’ll never forgive yourself.” I start to reply when he interrupts me. “If it works, then it works. If it doesn’t, you come back to me.”

  He opens the door, grabs my bag from the chauf
fer, and walks me into the lobby. Daddy’s waiting for us with my room key. They chat for a moment before I remind Henrik he has a flight to catch. He takes my hand as I walk him to the door.

  “He doesn’t look good,” Henrik says. “Way worse than he did in Brazil.”

  I nod.

  “If he’s well enough, bring him with you to Jeffrey’s Bay in February. A little surfing does the body good.”

  “We’ll see,” I reply. “I know we’ve been planning that trip for a while, but I don’t think I can leave him, and I’m not sure an intercontinental trip is a good idea for him at this point. Don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

  “I will never give up hope where you’re concerned.” He hugs me. “Until next time, gorgeous.”

  The Chargers game may have been my best game yet. While I’m still bitter about the way my job came about, I’m enjoying learning from Daddy, and I love the work. Commentating is really an art form, one that Daddy does with seamless ease. I’m learning so many things that will make me a stronger presenter, regardless of the sport I’m presenting on. Since I only have this opportunity for one season, I decide to make the most of it.

  Daddy started getting a headache in the fourth quarter, so I was called in to add to the conversation. The Chargers were getting their asses handed to them by the Patriots, which puts pressure on the commentators to keep things interesting. There’s only so many ways to say, “Touchdown Tom Brady” and still keep it fresh. I’ve studied the Pats offense more than most, so I had a few new things to add.

  While the rest of the crew is ready to move on to Seattle, Daddy and I are staying in San Diego for a few more days. I’m teaching a tennis clinic for underprivileged children, and after twisting Daddy’s arm, I convinced him to stay for some much-needed R&R. He hears R&R and thinks endless rounds of golf. Little does he know that I sent his clubs ahead to Seattle. He’ll be spending his days in the spa and by the pool.

  I’ve been hosting annual clinics like this since I was fourteen, and it’s one of the highlights of my year. I love working with the kids. My favorite ones are the kids who start off wanting nothing to do with tennis, but by the time they leave, they have a new-found love for it. Tennis gets the rep of being an elitist sport, and that turns a lot of kids off before they even step onto the court. In the short time I have them, I try to change their minds.

  Some people host these clinics looking for an undiscovered phenom, but my goal is to teach kids another way to stay active. I host the clinic in a different city every year, and my mother’s foundation pays to resurface inner city tennis courts so the kids have a good place to play. Katie always works her magic and gets equipment donated to the rec departments of the city I’m teaching in, so each kid leaves with a racket and a bucket of balls.

  This year’s clinic is exceptionally challenging. I have four boys who are straight out of juvie, and they’re bound and determined to put me through hell. By lunch, I’m ready to pull the string out of my racket and tie them up with it. When I’m about to start the afternoon session, I lose everyone’s attention. They start laughing at something behind me. I turn around, and Chase is standing behind me, mimicking me. He used to do this in high school, and it always pissed me off to no end.

  “Today’s comedic performance is courtesy of none other than Chase Brennan. Why don’t you kids take a water break while I chat with Mr. Brennan for a minute?” I push Chase across the court until he hits the fence. “What are you doing here?”

  “Aiden called me and said you’re holding him against his will. Did you actually force him to get a manicure?”

  I push the butt of my racket into his gut. “Still waiting for my answer. What are you doing here?”

  He allows his body to curve into the fence to relieve the pressure from my racket while holding his hands up in surrender. “Mom said you had some tough customers today, so I wanted to stop in and see if you were okay.”

  I let my racket fall to the ground and lean against it. “Chase, I’m a big girl. I think I can handle a little sexual harassment by twelve-year-olds.”

  “I know you can. Let me stay anyway. I can be your assistant. Put me to work.”

  I walk back to our side of the court, and he jogs to catch up. I grab my water. “Don’t you have practice? The Pats may have killed the Chargers last week, but Randy Newland is coming back this week. You won’t be able to steamroll them.”

  “I was there all morning. I promised Coach I’d watch film all night to catch up. Know anyone I can watch with? Come on, what do you say? I’ll help you here, and you help me study tonight. It’ll be just like old times.”

  No, it won’t. If it were just like old times, we’d watch ten minutes of film and spend the rest of the night between the sheets. This would be nothing like that. While I love watching film, a night of just watching film just doesn’t have quite the same allure.

  I dry off the grip of my racket. “You can stay and do everything I say, and I’ll have Daddy watch with you. After all his spa time, he’ll be eager to reclaim his masculinity.” I swear I see a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but that could just be my overactive imagination. I turn back to my kids. “Guess what, kids? Mr. Brennan has agreed to stay and play with us. Not too many people can say that an NFL quarterback shagged their balls for them.” I hand Chase the ball hopper with a wink. “Get to work!”

  It’s not well known, but Chase is an exceptional tennis player. For years, our parents forced us to play mixed doubles together. We were unstoppable until we were forced to forfeit because we couldn’t stop fighting with each other. He doesn’t play often, but when he does, he still dominates. Of course he does. He’s Chase.

  It’s also not well known that Chase adores kids. He used to have plans to start a football clinic, but to my knowledge, he hasn’t done it yet. Based on how he interacts with these kids, I’m shocked. I can’t tell who’s having more fun: him or the kids. He’s patient, supportive, and creative with them. He’s an endless stream of positive reinforcement. When I get to the serving lesson, he pulls out some outstanding acting skills. Each kid thinks their serve was too much for the great Chase Brennan. I catch myself staring at him in awe a few times. I’ve got to knock that off.

  At the end of the day, the kids are worn out. Their buses are running late, but they voted that their muscles are too sore to play anymore.

  “Mr. Brennan, do you think you can take on Arianna?” Rocco, one my juvie boys, asks. As soon as Chase arrived, they went from talking about my ass to “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am.” I’m not sure what Chase said, but it worked.

  “Oh, I know I can take her. There was one time I beat her in five straight sets.” Chase holds out five fingers to emphasize his point.

  I put my water down and cross the court to where Chase is standing. “Hold up! It should be noted that I had broken my wrist and was playing with my left hand. And I was nine!”

  “Excuses, excuses,” he says.

  The kids chant, “Play! Play! Play!”

  I take a ball out of my pocket and throw it at him. “You really want to embarrass yourself in front of these kids?”

  “You can take her, Brennan! She ain’t even played in years. Plus she’s got a bum knee,” Ozzie, another juvie kid, shouts.

  I love these little shits. Really, I do. “Oh, look. The bus is here,” I say with a forced smile. “Line up, guys.”

  “Wait.” Chase walks over to Ozzie. “I’ve got to be honest. She could whoop me blindfolded. Don’t let the knee fool you. I’ve got nothing on her.”

  Chase helps me and the staff get the kids on the bus. After we watch them drive away, the staff bombards Chase with requests for autographs. I walk back to the court to gather my things. On my way to the parking lot, my tennis bag is pulled from my shoulder. I spin around to take down the thief and see Chase.

  “Easy there, Kujo. I’m just being helpful.”

  I stick my tongue out at him. “Just like you. Show your face after everything is cleane
d up.”

  “It’s a gift.” He smiles. “Aid’s meeting me for dinner. We’re going for Mexican. Some place called Oscar’s.”

  I moan. “It is so good. Just make sure he doesn’t eat too much.” I pop the trunk, and he puts my things away.

  “Want to join us?” he asks.

  So badly. “I better not. I bet he wants to spend time with just you. He sees me all the time.”

  “Come on, Ari. I know how much you love fish tacos. We can even have a big blow out if that will make you happy. I’ll take the last of the salsa and the guacamole, and you can tell me how I should have asked if you wanted some first. It might even result in a food fight.”

  I cross my arms. “Fighting with you has never made me happy.”

  His face falls. “I just meant if you were worried about our cover.”

  I open my car door but pause before sitting down. “There’s nothing left to cover up.” I slide in the car and shut the door.

  He knocks on my window and motions for me to roll it down. He leans against the car and says, “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

  I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel. “Don’t sweat it. Thanks for today. You were great with the kids.”

  “I had a blast. I don’t get to do stuff like this often enough.”

  I want to ask him why he hasn’t started his own clinic, but that crosses boundaries we’ve both been so careful not to cross.

  “I meant what I said, you know,” he says.

  “What’s that?”

  He puts his hand on the roof of my car and leans forward. “What I told Ozzie. You’d kill me on the court. Had that bus not shown up when it did, you would have eviscerated me.”

  My jaw drops. “Chase Brennan admitting weakness? Has hell frozen over?”

  He leans back, then taps the roof of my car. “Get the hell out of here before I change my mind and challenge you.”

  I put the car in gear and drive away before I change my mind and do something stupid.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven