Page 7

Taylor

Taylor’s fingertapped against the tinted window of the black SUV as the gates to the tarmac were opened. As soon as the chain link fence parted, her driver put his foot on the gas and headed toward the jet at the center of the runway.

The car came to a halt, and before Taylor could even unbuckle her seatbelt, another driver was opening her door.

“Thanks,” Taylor cleared her throat, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes as she stepped into the light. Her driver, Richard, handed her a brand new racket bag. With a smile, Taylor grabbed it from his hands and slung it over her shoulder.

Taylor strode toward the plane, whose engine was already running – making the entire tarmac basically a sound void. Behind her, drivers wheeled her other bags over to the ground crew loading the plane. It was a bit of a ridiculous charade, but her mom always insisted that Taylor carry her own rackets.

As she approached the plane, Kim waved her down and shouted over the roaring engine. “Hi, darling. There’s anattendant inside the plane waiting for the rackets; hand them off, and they’ll bring them to the cargo hold.”

Taylor nodded, lingering to see if her mom would bother giving her a hug. But instead, Kim crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Just past the chain link fence at the edge of the tarmac stood a dozen paparazzi. The flashes of their cameras drew Taylor’s attention.

Looking back at her mom, Taylor laughed dryly to herself. When she was younger, she thought carrying her own rackets had something to do with respecting her own tools. That was until the first photo of Taylor walking onto the plane with her racket bag over her shoulder appeared in a tabloid. Then it became very clear what the point was.

Shaking off her annoyance, Taylor climbed the steps of the plane. The engine drowned out any noise from the paparazzi at the fringes. But Taylor felt herself wince as if she could hear each click of their shutters.

Once she ascended the stairs, an impeccably dressed woman greeted her with a flirtatious smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Young.”

Taylor tried not to blush. “You too, Ruby.”

Ruby grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray in her left hand.

Raising her hand, Taylor denied the glass. “Rubes, you know I don’t drink before a tournament. But maybe after.”

Smoothing a few flyaways, Ruby nodded. “It’ll be ready for you when you win. And maybe you can have another treat if you do.”

Raising a finger, Taylor winked. “You mean,when.”

“My mistake, Ms. Young.” Ruby bit her lip.

Taylor chuckled, shaking her head at Ruby’s desperation. There were very few occasions when Kim wasn’t watching over Taylor’s shoulder. What choice did Taylor have but to takeadvantage of any spare moment she could get? Even if it complicated every flight ever since.

Letting the bag fall off her shoulder, Taylor handed her racket to another attendant who carefully disguised it under a jacket and brought it back to the ground crew.

Taylor took her seat, letting her sore body sink into the plush leather. After a moment, Kim waltzed onto the plane with Taylor’s dad in tow.

She took the seat across from Taylor, wanting to keep an eye on her the entire trip. It was an eight-hour flight to Paris, and Kim would find a way to turn the flight into a training session, one way or another.

But as he plopped down next to his daughter, it was clear that Gerald didn’t share that agenda. “Hey, sweetheart. You ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” Taylor clenched her jaw.

He shrugged. “Well, once you win the French Open once, it’s like riding a bike.”

Taylor chuckled. “It doesn’t feel that simple, Dad. If anything, I feel like now I have the pressure of maintaining some kind of streak.”

“Because you do.” Kim inserted from across the table, scrolling on her phone as she spoke. “You aren’t just carrying your own legacy…”

“I’m carrying yours and Dad’s too. I know.” Taylor cut her off, leaning back into her chair. She pulled her feet up onto the leather and stared out the window as the doors of the plane were gently shut.

Ruby carried over a tray of drinks: champagne for Kim, a neat whiskey for Gerald, and a protein shake for Taylor. Passing each of them out, Ruby’s hand lingered near Taylor’s when she passed her the shake.

Taylor tried not to take notice of it. But her body was reacting. At this point, she hadn’t been touched in months. Shewas getting desperate. But even if she caved, Ruby wasn’t who she really wanted. None of the women she had rendezvoused with had been.

The one person she truly wanted was off limits, though.

Kim’s eyes darted between Ruby and Taylor’s hands. “That will be all, Ruby.”