Page 59 of Love, Amy

“Remember,” he emphasizes to me. “I chose you to share my life. I chose you.”

“I chose you, too,” I say desperately, wanting him to hand me the racket, wanting out of this conversation.

Finally, hesitantly, he holds out the racket between us. “Did you?”

And when I reach out for the racket, almost lunging towards him, it’s too late. Everything goes dark.

*

Beck Bowman finds me at dawn. “AMY BOWMAN.” He’s roaring, worse than I’ve ever heard him. His fist bangs on the door, as though trying to break through. “OPEN THE DOOR.”

I turn onto my back, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “Jesus. Give me a second,” I mutter. I reach for my phone on the nightstand, wondering if I missed practice, when I see Aurelio lying next to me. He’s tangled up in the sheets, wearing a pair of Nike shorts and nothing else. I’m wearing the matching t-shirt.

I’m in Aurelio’s room. How is my father pounding on the door? Did my dream transition into a nightmare?

“AMY.” Beck’s fury is palpable, even through the locked door. “I know you’re in there. Open the door right now or I’ll wake up this entire floor.”

Knowing he’s good for it, I scramble to my feet, climbing indelicately over Aurelio. He’s stirring, unused to the Beck Bowman alarm clock special.

“AMY!” Beck pounds on the door three more times. The door rattles. “Vince tried to cover for you, but I saw the pictures, I know you’re in ther—”

I yank the door open.

My father stands across from me, heaving in angry breaths, fist in the air. So many thoughts race through my head, so many apologies, so many defenses, so many more lies, but instead I just ask, voice scratchy from the morning, “What pictures?"

Beck stomps into the room, shoving me aside with his shoulder. It glances off my chin, clacking my teeth together. I quietly shut the door behind him, though I know it’s too late to hope no one heard him screaming. “These pictures!” He shoves his phone in my face, open to Instagram. “Rafe showed me these this morning. He thought I knew about you two.”

I hold the phone with trembling fingers. It’s a picture of Aurelio and me leaving the gym yesterday evening, right after I promised to stay with him until he left for Rome. We’re walking hand-in-hand, both our tennis bags over Aurelio’s shoulder. I must have been trying to cheer Aurelio up, because in the picture, I’m gesturing wildly with my free hand and making a face. Aurelio’s head is tipped back in laughter.

We look happy.

I hand the phone wordlessly back to my father. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Aurelio is fully out of bed, waiting to see if I need help. I want to explain to him, to apologize for my father’s antics, but I don’t dare look away from Beck. His anger has transformed his face, but there’s also a trace of barely-there hurt.

I take the high road, trying to ignore the tell-tale itch on my wrist. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way—”

Beck interrupts me. “Find out what?” He throws his hands out. “That my daughter gave up on being a tennis player and instead chose to be some Italian’s fling?”

Aurelio immediately protests. “She didn’t—”

I hold up my hand to him, and he falls silent. I keep my eyes on my father, words calm. “I haven’t given up on being a tennis player. I’m still one of the best players in the world—”

“You are?” Beck immediately rips into me. “It seems like since you’ve been seeing Aurelio you’ve lost your number one ranking and every Grand Slam final you’ve played in.”

An angry blush rises to my cheeks. “I didn’t even know Aurelio when I lost in Australia,” I say hotly. “So maybe the common denominator in all those losses was you.”

Beck’s angry surprise settles, becoming cold and smug. “So, not Australia, huh? But every tournament after that?” He circles me, rubbing his chin. My spine stiffens, but I feel the hives forming on my chest, my neck. “So, you’ve been lying to me for, what? Months?”

I throw my hands out. “Maybe because this is how I knew you’d react!”

“No!” Beck snaps. “You lied because you knew you were wrong.”

The words hit their intended mark. I tremble. I can see in my peripheral that Aurelio is moving closer to me. “Wrong?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Wrong about what?”

Beck leans towards me, coming in for the kill. “You knew that a relationship would be a distraction. You knew that a relationship would cloud your mind. You knew that a relationship would take up your extra time, extra time that could go towards training.” I set my mouth, trying not to let the words in, but they latch into my mind, barbed and unrelenting. “But you did it anyway because, deep down, you know you don’t have what it takes to be a champion, Amy.”

“That’s not true,” I say, my voice shaking. “I didn’t choose Aurelio to sabotage my life. I chose him because he makes my life better.”

I can’t resist the urge anymore, itching the hives on my right forearm. The relief is shameful.