Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
She turned her face away.
Tom waited.
When she gave it to him again, her expression was tortured.
So tortured, Tom’s chest caved in.
“I watched you play in the US Open when I first met you,” she said. “Didn’t miss a match. I flew to London that next Wimbledon. It was a big deal, me being there. Us being together. I was worried, the paparazzi were all over us. I thought it’d affect your game. It didn’t. But that wasn’t….it wasn’t…” She shook her head, and when she spoke again, it was in an agonized whisper. “It wasn’t why I never saw another match of yours. I didn’t go to see you play once.” She swallowed, and it looked so painful, Tom felt it in his own throat. “And the kids didn’t either.”
Tom stood still as a statue.
“They were too young to travel on their own,” she continued. “We prided ourselves that we didn’t have a full-time nanny like all of our friends. We were a ‘real’ family. We went to work, came home and took care of our kids. We cooked for them and bathed them and read them bedtime stories. When you had to go, I couldn’t take them to your tournaments. I was working. Or…I could, but I didn’t. Not even to New York. You couldn’t take them and look after them and play. I…”—another shake of her head—“not one of your children ever saw you play professionally.”
Tom said nothing.
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t speak.
He’d buried how he’d felt about that for so long, he’d forgotten how deep he’d dug so he could put it somewhere it wouldn’t destroy him.
He remembered seeing the other players’ girlfriends, wives, children in the stands during their matches.
Not his.
Not once.
Not since the beginning.
Not Genny.
Not his children.
Not until he’d hit the senior tour and then, it just wasn’t the same.
“Mom and Dad offered to take the kids,” she carried on. “Your parents did. Your parents never missed a match. Dad rarely missed them. But I refused. I was…it was all about me. I wanted to be the real deal. Look at Imogen Swan, famous actress, perfect mother, out buying groceries with her children while her husband’s away playing tennis. Mom told me. She was so angry with me. She said I’d regret it. I told her they were too young. There was no point in unsettling their routine. They wouldn’t even know what was happening. But Mom was right. I regret it. I can’t even…I don’t even know why I did it.”
Tom did.
It was the Genny Show.
Perfect Imogen Swan, out buying groceries (and she did, as famous as she was, even to this day, she went to the grocery store herself), looking after her babies.
But again, at the time, he didn’t push it.
However, he had matches to win and getting up in his wife’s face about whether or not she or their children were there was not on the agenda along with taking care of his family, seeing to his wife’s needs and enduring the intense and constant training it took to win trophies and purses.
Tom found his voice.
“You were right. They were too young to understand what they were seeing.”
A funny smile hit her face and her words were weighted with melancholy when she said, “That’s my Tommy. Making it all right for me to be me. Even when I’m being selfish and awful.”
“You aren’t selfish and awful, Genny,” he replied gently. “You were a young mother with a stressful, high-profile career and a marriage and a family. You were doing your best.”
“And there he is again.”
Tom shut up.
They stared at each other.
And it happened.
They had it all.
They didn’t pay attention.
They lost it all.
And now, it was done.
“Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry I did what I did to you,” he whispered.
“I know,” she whispered back.
“You’re going to have to sort things with Chloe,” he advised.
She nodded. “I know that too. I will.”
“Sasha’s getting it together. She’s shared, yes?”
“She’s texted a few things. She’s been busy with all of that. I’ll sit down with her. Get the whole story.”
“Call Bowie, Gen.”
“I’ll call him on the way up to Prescott.”
“Go tonight.”
This smile was small, but not funny, when she said, “I’m going to leave from here.”
“Good,” he murmured.
A moment passed. Two. Another. And more. Each heavier than the last.
And then she asked, “She’s the one, isn’t she? Mika?”
“Yes, honey,” he said quietly. “You’ll like her, though.”
“Does she…think I’m terrible, all this drama?”
“She’s protective of me, I’m not going to lie.”
Genny winced.
Tom went on, “But if I’m good, she’ll be good.”
“Her daughter’s adorable.”
“You’ll love her.”
Bright hit her eyes, and Tom felt that emotion closing his throat.
They had it all.
They lost it all.
And now, it was done.
It didn’t hurt as much as when it happened.
It still fucking stung.
They didn’t move for long moments.
It was Genny that broke it, but she didn’t go to him. He wasn’t hers to have, as she wasn’t his.