Love. Set. Match.

by Taylor Lunsford

  “Then why are you here?” she demanded.

  “Where do I start?” he mused, bracing his hands on the back of the chair opposite her. “How about with why you’ve been avoiding me? With why you don’t want to talk about those pictures of you and Kole? You both looked pretty cozy at that party.”

  Her temper flared and snapped at her, cracking through the air between them. “God, Rob. I think those cretins you work with are getting to your head. Kole and I talked for maybe ten minutes at most. He was…he apologized. For everything. We were polite to each other. But of course, the world sees me as a sex maniac, so it was automatically something more than just a conversation. How could you think I would do that? I’m not the type to cheat on my—on someone I’m seeing.”

  “On your boyfriend?” he challenged. “Is that what you were going to say? Because that’s what I am, Em. Whether you want to admit it or not, I’m your boyfriend.”

  She shook her head. “We talked about this, Rob. You aren’t my boyfriend. That implies so much. I don’t have room in my life for a boyfriend.”

  “What are you so afraid of? Why won’t you accept us already? Everyone else has. Your brother, my sister, my mom, our friends. Even your grandma. They all know what you’re too scared to admit. That we belong together.” He resumed his pacing.

  Panic clawed at her throat, her mind flitting back to what her grandmother had said. Love isn’t a complication. It’s the solution. Except that it wasn’t. Because loving someone had never done anything good for Em. All it had done was hurt her and cost her what she’d worked so hard to achieve. Gran thought that Rob wasn’t a distraction, but she was so, so wrong. He was the reason she’d lost her focus today. After a nearly perfect tournament, the day she talked to Rob was the day she went off track. She couldn’t do this anymore. The years of pain and anger and rejection swelled inside of her until she was surging to her feet, the two of them circling each other like combatants in a boxing ring, ready for someone to take the first swing.

  “We belong together? We belong together?” She kept her tone cool, her expression neutral while inside she seethed. “Now, after all this time, you think we are supposed to be together. It’s convenient for you now, so it’s okay for us to be together, is that it?”

  His body shifted, watching her like he would an opponent on serve. Suspicious but ready. “We were always meant to be together, Em. I knew that the first day I saw you. I was the one who had to convince you to go on a date with me, remember?”

  Of course she remembered, damn him. She remembered everything. “I remember overhearing my supposed boyfriend’s father telling him I was trash. A slutty opportunist who only wanted to use him. We belonged together so much that my boyfriend used my heart for serving practice by breaking up with me after I lost the Olympics because of his father’s opinion, only to come back seven years later, suddenly ready to commit.”

  He froze, his face a mask of regret. “Em, I never wanted to hurt you. I—we were barely older than kids. We both had our whole careers in front of us. Being tied down at that point, we would have come to resent each other. At least that’s what I told myself at the time. And damn it, you agreed with me.”

  On some level, he was right. They would have resented each other. She’d seen that a month or so later, once the choking pain had faded to a dull ache covered by simmering anger.

  “Of course I did. What else was I supposed to do? God, I thought I was in love with you, and then you didn’t say a single word to defend me against your dad. Would things be any different now?” She braced her hands on her hips to keep him from seeing how badly she was shaking. “It would be worse, Rob. Especially for me. The media attention from those fucking pictures would be nothing compared to what would happen if it came out that I was dating the man who so publicly defended me. I would be called every name in the book and then some.”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be. If we played the story right, no one would dare say anything bad about you. I would protect you, Em. I love you. Why won’t you believe that?”

  A thousand answers came to her lips, but she held all of them back, save one. “Because the last time I believed that, I had my heart crushed. I’ve lost too many people I care about to buy that love will magically fix everything. Every man who’s ever mattered to me has abandoned me in one way or another except for my brother. Even my grandpa died when I needed him the most. And no matter what you say, you’re no better than my dad or Kole. How can you honestly expect me to get past everything?”

  His shoulders slumped as he stopped behind the couch, staring at her. “Is that what you really think? That I’m like Kole? Like your dad? I would never treat you the way they have. If you’d let me, I would spend every single day of our lives showing you that you are the most important person in the world, because to me you are. Even when I was trying to forget you, you were everything to me. Everything. When I was stuck spending months at home recovering, all I could think about was that I was the biggest idiot in the world not to show up at the airport that day. If you’ll let me, I will be your partner, Em. I will be there for you, no matter what. Given the chance, I’d never leave your side again. What do I have to do to convince you of that?”

  She turned her back on him, unable to bear the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. She wanted to believe him. Every ounce of her screamed at her to jump him and tell him she wanted that partnership, that she wanted him with her and had since she was twenty. But that was the easy way out. Ever since he came back into her life, she’d lost control of everything, but more importantly she’d lost her focus. Without him, without worrying about what would happen if someone found out about him, without worrying that he might decide to leave her—again—she could focus on her tennis again.

  It was time to give him back, to get him out of her life before he did more damage. In her heart, she’d known it was time the moment the crowd roared and Chessa’s arms shot into the air in victory. It’d taken every ounce of self-control for her not to vomit right there on Centre Court as the Duke of Kent handed Chessa the winner’s trophy. The overwhelming sense of loss and pain had been unbearable, and all she’d wanted to do was scream in frustration. Her dream had been tantalizingly close, and she’d let it slip away again. All through the press conference and the painful meal with her brother and Zoe, her only thoughts had been that it was her fault she lost and that she had to give up the one thing keeping her from devoting one-thousand percent of her energy into achieving her goal.

  “There’s nothing you can do, Rob. We…we’re too broken to ever work as a real couple. There’s too much that’s passed between us.” Tears stung her eyes, but she brushed them off, fighting for control.

  Before the pictures, before that plane ride, she’d been in control. Grieving for the loss of her grandpa, but in control. In spite of her knee injury, she’d trained her ass off during the off-season, and she was ready to win her first Grand Slam.

  Then the distractions came in. The pictures might have started the spiral, but it was Rob who amped it up to another level. When she was with him, it was hard to focus on anything but how he affected her. He made her think of a life beyond tennis, a life she might have had if she’d chosen the more conventional career path her father always harped on and on about. In the quiet moments, ideas would seep into her brain, ideas about sharing a life with a man—this man. She beat them back mercilessly, reliving those awful hours waiting and watching for him to show up for the plane ride they’d never taken. Even with all of that, the ideas refused to let go—and that scared the hell out of her.

  Since the first time she’d met Zoe and heard her tales of winning Grand Slams, it was all Em wanted, and Papa Vic had joined her in those dreams. Over the years, it had evolved from a simple desire to win, to a desire to prove herself. To her grandparents, to her father, to the world. To the men like Bobby Ashton who said she wasn’t good enough because of her background, because she didn’t fit the mold.

  And she coul
dn’t do that with Rob in her life. That had been clear enough today. This time, she was the one who had to pick her career over the person she could love.

  She’d come too far, put her family through too much—especially this year—to go back now. She needed to turn all her attention toward Flushing Meadows and the US Open. She didn’t have room for anything more—she couldn’t allow herself to have room for anything more.

  “What are you saying, Em?” His body was eerily still, the full power of his gaze on her, the waves of denial rolling off him. “Look me in the eye and tell me what you want.”

  Taking a shuddering breath and brushing away the stray tears that escaped against her will, she turned and looked him in the eyes. The pain there almost brought her to her knees, but she forced herself to remain strong. “I’m saying I’m choosing my career over you. I want you to leave. Now. I want you to let me get on with my life. I can’t risk being hurt again, and I can’t afford any more distractions.”

  He stared at her, his jaw clenched and his body tense. “You’re sure? This is what you want? Because the Emerson Grace I knew was brave. She wouldn’t hide or back down in the face of fear.”

  She answered him with a bitter laugh. “I’m older and wiser. I have to protect myself, Rob. And I’m dead sure I want you to leave. So, please. Just go.”

  And he did. Without a word, Rob turned and left. Each echoing footstep on the old stairs made her want to call to him, to tell him to come back, but she didn’t give in. Her attention had to remain on the US Open. Winning there was the only way this whole ordeal would be worth it.

  Chapter 17

  Every inch of his body ached. That’s all Rob could think as he trudged into the TWW offices three days after the end of Wimbledon. The only other time he’d felt so shitty was when he destroyed his shoulder. That’s what it was like; like losing the function of an entire limb. Except this time, it was his heart.

  He’d gone over to her flat, expecting them to have a rational discussion, and suddenly they’d broken up. If he could call it that. She’d kicked him out, and he’d been too stunned to fight back. He’d tried to call her, tried to get Owen to tell him what he knew, but nothing worked. Owen refused to get in the middle of it, and Em refused to take his calls.

  So here he was, trying to get to work and pretend like his heart hadn’t been completely shattered just when he thought he might stand a chance to win a permanent place in her heart. He’d thought about going down to Miami to try to talk to her in person, but Owen and Maren pointed out that Em needed time to get her head on straight, that she needed space.

  Space.

  God, what a loaded word. He wished he could have some space. Instead, he had to go back to work and deal with whatever new crap Bruno threw at him. He’d been numb enough during the men’s finals broadcast that he hadn’t cared that Bruno looked unusually smug or that Naumov beat Cruz—again.

  Over the last twenty-four hours, it’d all started to hit him. Em was gone. He’d started to make their usual pre-bedtime phone call last night, and he’d stopped himself because she wouldn’t answer.

  Now he had to deal with reality. He had to face the fact that he was back to square one. He had no tennis career and no Em. All he had was his job as an on-air sports reporter at an unrepentantly sleazy network.

  Fuck.

  “Ah. Ashton. Just the man I was looking for.”

  Bruno’s voice had Rob’s skin crawling as he stopped in the door of his office. The last thing he wanted to do right now was deal with more of Bruno’s bullshit.

  “What do you want?” he asked, shoving his leather bag higher up on his good shoulder.

  Bruno crossed his arms over his massive chest, a sneering grin on his face. “I’ve got a story for the morning sports news, and I wanted to know if you’d like to comment before we go on air.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rob massaged his temples, wishing the ibuprofen he’d taken on the ride here would start working.

  “I wanted to know if we could get a comment on the story about how you were seen in intimate situations with Emerson Grace in the last few months.”

  Blood roared in Rob’s ears, and the pain went from a dull ache to damn near blinding. Bruno had to be playing him. Trying to catch him out or something. They’d been careful. The only people who knew about his relationship with Em—his former relationship with Em—were his friends and family, and none of them would dare say anything to an asshole like Bruno. “What the hell? Is it April Fool’s Day?”

  “The innocent act won’t work, Ashton. I’ve got pictures to prove it.” Bruno pulled his phone out of the pocket of his ugly green suit.

  He held up the oversized phone, scrolling through a set of pictures, and Rob’s stomach dropped.

  The bastard wasn’t bluffing. Damn it. He knew exactly when these were taken. The first five were from his parents’ gala, some of them were from when he’d cornered Em behind the palm tree, and others were from this weekend. There was one of him and Em at the door of her townhouse.

  Rob tried to grab the phone to throw it across the room, but Bruno held it out of his reach. For a minute, he considered punching the guy, but he had a feeling that would only make things worse.

  “Ah, ah, ah, Rob. You wouldn’t want to compromise an important part of my research, now would you? This is going to put our ratings through the roof.”

  “You sick jackass. What did you do, have me followed?” Rob shoved his hands through his hair. “You think the network is going to let you run a story like that?”

  Bruno sniffed. “Maybe. It’s not like I had time to dig up dirt on the Golden Boy myself. I needed to find out if you had a weakness. Turns out you do.”

  Rage seared through Rob’s blood stream. Bruno was about to blow the lid off his relationship with Em after months of them sneaking around—and the relationship no longer existed. As much as he hated Bruno’s snooping for what it would mean for Rob’s position at the network, he hated it more for what it would do to Em and her feelings toward him. He hated the pictures of her and Kole from that damn party, but they’d kept the stalker quiet for a while, according to Owen. This story would send the sicko through the roof.

  “You can’t air this story, Bruno. Emerson’s still dealing with a stalker. This story will only provoke him. It could be dangerous,” Rob said.

  Bruno pursed his lips. “Hmm. The theoretical reaction of a stalker or a story that will ensure you never get my job? Such a tough decision.”

  Rob itched to tear him limb from limb. He was sick and tired of blindly ambitious men. His father, Bruno, Kole—they were all cut from the same cloth. They only saw things from the angle of how they would be affected; they never thought about the effect their choices would have on the rest of the world. If it weren’t for men like them, he might have a completely different life. He and Em might be married, and they might even have a kid or two. A girl with her mother’s dark hair and his eyes or a boy with his spirit and Em’s eyes he could teach to play tennis like his grandpa had taught him.

  He ached at that thought. He wanted that life more than anything, and now he’d probably never have it.

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your job, Bruno. I care about the fact that Emerson’s life could be in jeopardy if you do this.” He pushed past Bruno and headed down the hall, frantically looking in the open doors.

  “What are you doing?” Bruno asked, hot on his heels.

  Rob stopped, his mind racing. “I’m trying to find Joey or Peter or anyone with the authority to shut this down.”

  “You’ll find them in the conference room. Probably discussing if they have grounds to fire you,” Bruno sneered.

  The conference room. Rob jogged through the halls, checking the time on his phone. He had less than fifteen minutes before the morning news went on the air.

  Sure enough, he found the executive producers gathered in one of the smaller conference rooms, grim expressions on their faces. They glanced up when he enter
ed.

  “Mr. Ashton. We were about to send for you. Won’t you sit down?” Peter Townsend, one of the network’s top producers, said, gesturing to one of the leather chairs.

  “No. I won’t sit down. Are you really going to let Bruno run this story?” Rob demanded.

  Joey raised an eyebrow. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is a news network. Last I checked, one of the top female tennis players having an affair with a reporter—even one of our reporters—is news. News we should be the ones to break rather than another network.”

  “It’s not news. It’s tabloid gossip. More importantly, it’s stupid to run the story. You remember the story about her stalker? You think this is going to help that situation any?” Rob braced his hands on the back of the chair. “Do what you want to me. I don’t care. But you cannot run this story.”

  “Are you the news director now?” Bruno scoffed. “It’s their choice if we air this story. Do you know how much of a rating’s boost we could get out of this? It might even surpass when those sexy pictures of your girlfriend came out.”

  Bruno wanted him to lash out, but Rob settled for rolling his eyes. “Do you know how bad this story will make the network look? Turning on one of its own employees? Not knowing about the relationship in the first place?”

  “Whose fault is that?” Joey slammed a hand on the table, eyes blazing. “How could you be so stupid, Rob? Getting involved with one of the players?”

  “I don’t see how my, or Emerson’s, or Dera’s or Cruz’s or any other public figure’s personal life is anyone’s business but their own. Why should it matter to you who I’m dating? Would you care if she were a high school tennis coach?”

  Joey rubbed her forehead. “Of course it wouldn’t. At least not to the same degree. But come on, Rob. This isn’t new to you. Your parents dealt with this for your whole life. Your personal life has always been tabloid fodder. So has Emerson’s. Look what happened after the Naumov photos broke. She’s big news. Both of you together are huge news.”