Page 14 of Battle for the Top
Epilogue
Knight
ONE MONTH LATER
We had reachedthe tiebreak that would decide whether I was finally going to have my first victory over King at Wimbledon. He had recovered from his shoulder injury from the French Open in time to play the best tennis of his life at the tournament. But I had been on fire, too. It led us to the moment where it all came down to a single point.
I bounced the ball several times, before glancing at him across the net. Even at a distance, his challenging gaze dared me to bring all the heat I could muster. He wanted me to win almost as much as I did. However, he wouldn’t insult me by giving me a meaningless victory—not after we’d both worked our asses off to reach the apex of our careers.
Taking a steadying breath, I was free from worrying only about winning. All I wanted to do was make King proud, and that meant doing the impossible thing no one else had ever done: defeat him. Tossing the ball into the air, I put my everything into slamming it his way. It bounced within the service box with a beautiful spin that sent it beyond the range of his racket, despite his desperate lunge for it.
The audience went wild with a deafening roar, making me realize I hadfinallyreclaimed my rightful title as best in the world. King beamed with pride as he cheered along with them, freeing me to pump my fist with a joyous whoop. I had fuckingwon! Elated didn’t come close to describe the rush of triumph that overcame me as I celebrated my victory. It may have taken me almost three years, but I had defeated my rival on an international stage, a feat no other tennis player could say. It felt even better than earning my fourth Wimbledon trophy.
He rushed over to me, practically bouncing in his excitement for me. “You fucking did it! You really did it, Knight! You’re amazing!”
When he held his hand out to shake mine, I accepted the gesture of sportsmanship. But that was something regular winners did, which wasn’t worthy of the massive scale of my accomplishment. I had beaten the reigning two-time champion, my best friend, my boyfriend, and the love of my life, who gave my world all its color and joy. There was only one way to celebrate that, and it damn well wasn’t with a chaste handshake.
Using my grip, I tugged him into my embrace and kissed him with all the affection and happiness my heart couldn’t contain in my overwhelmed state. He dropped his racket with a clatter on the court as he hugged me back and returned the passionate kiss. The crowd gasped in shock, making us laugh when we broke apart.
He flashed his trademark cocky grin. “Congratulations. Not only did you win, but you just guaranteed our press conference is going to be batshit bonkers now.”
“I’m counting on it.” I rested my forehead against his as I squeezed his hand. “But what better way is there to tell the world I love you?”
This time he kissed me, causing a deafening cheer from the stands. None of that mattered, though. All I cared about was the beautiful man in my arms who had pushed me to the top of my sport by bringing out the best in me. Love literally meant zero in the game of tennis, but it meant everything to me when since I had won the heart of Kingston Sabatino.
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