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Chuckling, Mac nodded and walked to her bag for water. “When did you know?”

“Private jet to Wimbledon. Tommy didn’t have a flight on your itinerary.” Babs patted Mac’s back.

But her jaw dropped. “You knew it was Taylor?”

Babs rolled her eyes. “It was incredibly obvious. Kim wasn’t going to come after another player like that unless she felt like she had to. She felt threatened, specifically by you.”

Mac shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. Whenever new players popped up, most of the older pros just kept their mouths shut or offered some cliche compliment. But Kim had wanted Mackenzie to disappear ever since she was eighteen.

“She also hated that I chose to coach you. I refused her and Taylor. I think she saw me picking you as a dig at her.” Babs smirked.

Mac looked around the court. On all of the other courts, dozens of players were training. Some of them would be competing at the Open just like Mac in a couple weeks. But most of them were just getting started.

Babs sighed. “You and me, kid, we’re a lot alike. I just came before you so you could do it younger. But women like Kim, they don’t like anyone who gets in the way of the status quo.”

Mac nodded as she listened. Babs’s years of wisdom was something she rarely verbalized. But she had been lambasted for her sexuality – forced to come out when another player threatened to out her. The next year she retired and hid away with her partner at the time. It wasn’t until Mac appeared that Babs came out of the woodwork in any real way.

Babs squared Mac’s shoulders with hers. “But here’s the thing about heartbreak: you have to make it work for you. I don’t need to know what happened between you and her. Idoneed you to play like it’s the last time they’ll ever let you walk onto that court.” With a smack, Babs asked, “Got it?”

A smirk built on Mac’s face. “Got it.”

They headed back onto the court. At the baseline, Mac shook off her nerves. This time, when the bar careened toward her, she hustled to meet it and smashed it across the court.

That’s more like it.

Mac felt the rumble of the music deep in her chest. A crowd of sapphics moved around Henrietta’s, cycling between the bar, the bathroom, and the dance floor.

Jazz and Beatriz jumped to the beat, belting out the lyrics of LAWSON’s latest hit. Mac bobbed along, trying to suppress the yawn in her throat. All of them were stone-cold sober, too close to the U.S. Open to take a sip of alcohol.

“When’s your photoshoot?” Beatriz yelled over the music.

Mac squeezed her eyes closed as she thought about the question. “Next week. We settled on the film photographer.”

Beatriz nodded. “That’s going to be fucking sick. You’re gonna look fucking hot in those, dude.”

Shaking her head, Mac just laughed. Mac was in better shape than she had been in years, despite her breakup making her feel like she wasn’t making any progress.

A group of women came closer to Mac’s circle, one of them kept eyeing Mac. Beatriz slapped Mac’s bicep, “Yo, you want me to wingman?”

Before Mac could say no, Jazz and Beatriz were moving toward the short brunette.

“Have you met Mac?” Jazz shouted over the music.

The woman shook her head as Jazz pushed Mac closer.

“Hey.” Mac waved as she stood next to the woman.

Once Jazz and Beatriz went back to their song, the woman laughed and leaned closer to Mac. “I actually do know you. I watched your match.”

Mac put her hand in her palms. “Oh god, that makes this so embarrassing.”

She waved off Mac’s concern, “I’m Victoria.”

“Mackenzie, obviously.” Mac shook her hand. But when she held the beautiful woman’s hand, all Mac could think about was Taylor’s soft grip. “I’m going to grab a drink, I’ll be back. It was nice meeting you!”

Pushing her way through the crowd, Mac felt her chest tightening. She was furious at Taylor. It took Mac nearly a decade to feel like she had gotten over the heartbreak, years of searching for that feeling in other people to accept that she might never feel that electricity again. And it had faded enough that Mac could convince herself that it was just a dull flicker.

But Taylor had pulled her back, forced her to feel the heat of their fire all over again. And now, Mac could only picture her when her eyelids closed.