Page 12 of This Could be Love

Kay wrinkled her nose. “Not really, no. But it might have been better if he had. I mean, then…” She stopped mid-sentence and looked at me. “How do you know his first name?” She let a moment pass. “I didn’t mention it.”

I knew it would only be a few seconds before my cheeks turned red and gave me away.

“We met each other yesterday on the beach,” I said. “I was jogging, he was surfing.”

“And he approached you? Did he know who you were?”

She sounded alarmed, so I quickly shook my head. “I was…feeling a bit off, and he came over to help me out.”

“Feeling a bit off?”

“My jet lag was kicking in, and I hadn’t had enough water.” I made a reassuring gesture. “What I mean is, Vince…brought me something to drink.”

At the last minute, I decided to go for the slimmed-down version of the truth. Without the English duke maneuver.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t know who he was,” I replied truthfully. “And I didn’t want you to spare me at training.”

“Did you still feel weird afterward?”

“No. As I said, I know what was going on.”

A pensive line appeared on her forehead. “So that’s what he meant.”

“Hmm?”

“Vince Greenfield. He accused me of ‘siccing’ my goddaughter on him.”

It took me a while to get it. Earlier, his accusation hadn’t made any sense, but now it was all coming together. But…he couldn’t really believe that she’d asked me to faint in front of his house in order to… No! Utter nonsense. But it did explain his strange behavior on the beach this morning. The thought triggered a seriesof contradictory emotions in me. First and foremost, disbelief. But regret too. Disappointment. Annoyance. Irritation. The fact that he held me to be…what? Kay’s accomplice? Ridiculous. And unrealistic. As if it mattered to Kay at all that I could describe his terrace.

“How did he know that I was your godmother? Did you mention it?”

“No.” For a second, I wondered why I hadn’t asked myself the same thing. The answer was obvious. “I told his sister that I was staying nearby and that my godmother was named Kay.”

She raised her eyebrows. “His sister?”

I thought of blue eyes and a cute, gap-toothed smile. What did she think about the whole thing? Disturbing the peace? Their argument? Me?

“Then let’s pray she has a good influence on him.” Kay sighed.

Chapter 7

Even at our second appointment Gabe didn’t look any more like a physiotherapist. He was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and Vans. Once again, he had a pair of shades on his head and smelled of wintergreen gum. I didn’t doubt for a second that he took his job seriously. Because Kay had chosen him. He exuded something heartfelt and reliable too.

“You look a bit done,” he said as I lay down on my back.

I didn’t take it poorly. On the contrary. The feeling of being drained after a long day of training was one of the most beautiful things in the world, and I’d worked hard for my red face and tired muscles. After our morning session out on the court, I’d worked on my shoulders, back, and legs. I’d used my lunch break to jump into Kay’s pool and then have an avocado toast and egg. In theafternoon I met Malia, and we played a set. I won 6:1, a result I was more than happy with.

“And your ankle played along?” Gabe asked, placing my heel in his left hand and rolling his right thumb carefully over my scar.

I nodded.

“Great.” He began to stretch and make circles with my foot. “Any other problems show up?”

“Nope.”

With both hands he kneaded my right calf and thigh. A deep, almost painful pressure that I had come to love over the years. A kind offeel-good pain.