Page 46 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)
ELIAS
The minute we’re in the car leaving the Miami airport I turn to Whimsy with a pathetic, begging pout. “Can I stay at your place?”
A tired laugh leaves her. “You really do like my tiny apartment, don’t you?”
“I love it.”
And I do. It smells like her and it’s homey. My place is cold. Too big, too quiet, and too fucking lonely. Now that I’ve spent the past few months sharing a bed with her every night, I know I’d get no sleep if I went home to my own place.
“You’re welcome at my place any time.”
“Good.” I kiss her cheek. “Is Craig going to be there?”
She lays her head on my shoulder. “My mom said she’d bring her over tomorrow.”
“Good,” I say again. “I like that cat.”
She doesn’t say anything but I can feel the amusement oozing out of her.
The Uber lets us out at her apartment building along with our bags.
“I’m so tired.” Whimsy stifles a yawn. “I’m excited to sleep in my own bed tonight, though.”
I don’t tell her, but I’m ready for a break. I need the mental reset. Sure, I’ll be practicing and prepping for the US Open, but it’ll be good for me to be back in Miami for an extended period of time.
Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and being away from home is a sacrifice I’m willing to make, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get to you at times.
We take the elevator silently up to Whimsy’s apartment.
It takes her a moment to locate her keys, but once she does, the door swings open easily.
It’s smaller than I remember, but I love it just the same.
The girly pillows she has on her couch, her quirky art in the kitchen, even her uncomfortable too small for two people couch.
“Oh my god,” she gasps when she opens the door to her bedroom.
She turns around and promptly slams it shut.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, hurrying to her side.
“I forgot about all my stuff we shipped back home. My mom brought it over instead of holding onto it and now that it’s in here why the hell did you let me buy so much stuff?”
“Well.” I grin. “If I recall, I was the one who was doing the purchasing.”
“Ugh, just look.” She swings to door back open and there are boxes stacked on either side of the bed as well as more piled on top.
“We’ll just move them out to the living room,” I reason. “In the morning you can go through them.”
“I need a bigger apartment.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.
“No!” I protest too loudly and probably too quickly.
“What is it with your obsession with my apartment?” she laughs and hands me a box to stack in the living room.
“It feels like home.”
Her soft smile as she hands me another box feels like a physical caress.
Ten minutes later all the boxes are moved from the bedroom, and we take turns showering because we both know if we shower together, we’ll end up doing more than that, and we’re both too tired from traveling to get sidetracked right now.
We need sleep.
When I settle into her bed after my shower, she quickly rolls over to me and I spoon myself against her. She gives a tiny, contented sigh before immediately falling asleep.
I smile, smoothing her hair back so the fan can’t continue to blow it in my face.
It’s funny how it’s Jackson of all people who I have to thank for this. Without him, I probably would’ve continued to put Whimsy in the box of off-limits. She was my employee, not a girl I could screw around with. Now, I realize she’s the only girl. The one I’ve always needed.
Whimsy is still passed out asleep when I wake.
I move as silently as I can around her room, rifling through my bags to change into shorts and a running shirt and shoes.
I figure I can jog over to the coffee shop and get us our usual favorites and something to eat for breakfast. We skipped dinner, so I’m expecting her to be extra hungry this morning.
The run is short, but it goes a long way to waking me up and helping me to feel more alive.
I step up to order and instead of only getting coffee, I get two sandwiches as well.
I don’t want to spill the coffee or let the food get cold, so I get an Uber to take me back to the apartment.
I don’t have a key, so I’m forced to knock and hope that she’s awake and can hear. Whimsy is a deep sleeper, and sometimes I’m certain there’s nothing at all that could wake her.
Luckily for me, she opens at my second knock. Her blond hair has been pulled back in a ponytail and she’s changed from her pajamas to a pair of blue shorts and matching sports bra. My jaw drops as my eyes rake over her body.
“Stop looking at me like you want to eat me.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that’s exactly what I want to do, but then she goes and adds, “My mom and sister are here.”
She opens the door wider and I find Jules and Juniper on the couch.
“Hey, Junie girl!” I call out.
Whimsy’s sister’s eyes widen in excitement. I have to all but shove our morning goods at Whimsy to save them from being crushed as Junie barrels into me.
The hug is bone crushing despite her small frame and I close my eyes, hugging her back.
I never would’ve expected to love Whimsy’s sister as much as I do, but the girl’s a riot. We text almost every day.
“You didn’t respond to my last text,” she says with a pout, hands on her hips after she’s let me go.
“I’m sorry. I probably missed it while I was traveling.”
“You two text?” Whimsy asks in surprise, setting the to-go boxes on her counter.
“All the time,” I reply. I’ve never mentioned it to Whimsy, because I’m not doing it to try to win any points. I like her little sister, and if she wants to text me twenty times a day with tennis questions then I’m more than happy to answer them.
“Seriously?” Her eyes go to Junie.
“Yeah,” Juniper replies with a shrug. “He’s my best friend.”
The look in his Whimsy’s eyes is a mixture of awe and something else I don’t dare put a word too.
“Juniper’s my buddy.” I rest my arm on her little sister’s shoulder.
“We need a secret handshake,” Junie whispers to me.
“We do,” I agree. “We’ll work on it later.”
“Where’s my hug?” Whimsy’s mom, Jules, asks.
“Right here whenever you’re ready.” I spread my arms wide.
Jules hugs me and pats my cheek before she steps back. “It’s good to see you, Elias.”
“Good to see you, too. Where’s Craig?” I look around for the fluffy cat.
“She’s probably hiding under the bed,” Whimsy says, gesturing toward the bedroom.
“Craig?” I call out, heading that way. I’ve missed the silly cat.
I don’t spot her, so I drop to my knees and peer under the bed. Sure enough, I find two glowing eyes staring back at me.
“Hey, girl.” I attempt to coax her out from under the bed. “I want snuggles.”
“Meow.”
“Craig?” I plead. “Come say hi.”
“She’s going to scratch you,” Whimsy says, and I peer behind me to find her standing in the doorway wearing a smirk and her arms crossed over her chest.
“No, she won’t. She loves me.”
“Hey”—she raises her arms in surrender— “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I reach back for the cat and?—
“Ow!” I cry out.
“Told you,” she cackles as she backs away.
I pull my arm out from under the bed, frowning at the long claw marks. “You’re not even going to kiss it and make it better?”
“Nope,” she sing-songs. “I’m not indulging you after I warned you.”
“I can’t believe I’m being treated this way after bringing you breakfast and coffee.”
“Boo-hoo. Poor baby.” She pouts, picking up her iced coffee and taking a sip.
I give her a look that says if we were alone, I’d be throwing her over shoulder and spanking her ass.
Jules laughs, shaking her head. “You two are reminding me of myself and your father,” she says to Whimsy.
“Except you and Dad are old ,” Junie interjects.
Jules sighs, shoulders sagging. “Thank you, June-bug, for the reminder.”
“You’re welcome,” Junie replies with a beaming smile.
Whimsy turns to me, burying her head against my shoulder to hide her laughter.
“We better head out,” Jules says, grabbing Juniper’s shoulder and steering her to the door. “But we expect you both at family dinner Friday.”
“We’ll be there.” Whimsy walks them to the door, hugging them goodbye.
When she closes the door, she turns around to me with a saddened expression.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, she says, “I didn’t realize how much I had missed them.
Somehow, I always forget until I get home and then I wonder how I’m ever going to leave again, but somehow, I do it. ”
“You don’t regret traveling for work?” I ask her, wanting an honest answer. I pull her in close by her hip and she puts her arms around her neck.
“No. There are so many things I wouldn’t have gotten to see or do if it weren’t for this job.”
“If you ever get tired of it, I want you to tell me.” I cup her cheek, and she leans into my touch like she craves it. “I don’t want you to ever resent me.”
Wrapping her arms around my waist, she leans in closer. “I could never resent you.”
I hope that’s true.
The tennis life isn’t for everyone and I’m not oblivious to that fact.