Page 70 of Love, Amy

He grins. “They’re my favorites, too.”

There’s a pause as we walk a little further, moving out of the way of a young family building a sandcastle. The waves lap gently at my ankles, cool and soothing. Aurelio’s next question splinters the peace. “Do you think he’ll come to the Open?” he asks. “Your father, I mean?”

I sigh. “I won’t see him if he does. But he might be working with Charles Allard. The rumors are swirling.”

Aurelio snorts. “They’re suited to each other.” There’s a pause, and I glance up at Aurelio’s face. He chews his lip, conflicted.

“What?” I ask him.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says in a rush. “If you wanted to see him. Maybe there’s a way he can be your father but not your coach.”

I look at the seemingly endless beach in front of me, mind churning through the possibilities. What exactly would Beck and I be like away from the tennis court? Is there a chance he’d want to know the other version of Amy? “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it.” I shake my head in frustration. “It would be nice to have a family. Maybe without Beck’s interference, my mother and I can become closer. I was even thinking of reaching out to Suzy after Wimbledon. She liked my recent Instagram breakup post about Beck. I’m hoping it’s a sign that she’d be open to talking again. She deserves an apology for... everything.” Aurelio nods encouragingly. “But with Beck...” I trail off. “I can’t picture it. I can’t picture him being my father when, really, he was only ever my coach.”

“Maybe you both just need some time,” Aurelio offers. I know he’s thinking about his own father and how they finally killed the anger between them, even after all this time. I’m not sure it’s the same thing.

“You’re right—time will tell.” Now I’m the one to squeeze his hand. “Thank you,” I say. He looks at me questioningly. “For being so open to the idea. I know he was awful to you. I don’t take your kindness for granted.”

He untangles our hands and puts an arm around my shoulders. We line up nicely from ankle to hip to shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” Aurelio reassures me. “Together. The...” he finally finds the phrase he’s looking for, “...ball is in his court, as you Americans say. If he apologizes, if he wants to be your father, we can go from there.”

“And if he doesn’t?” My voice is small. “If he’s the same asshole he’s always been?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Aurelio emphasizes. “Me, and you, and maybe my family, and probably Vince, and definitely Fernanda.”

I laugh. “Not a bad group.”

Aurelio’s eyes widen suddenly. “You need a new coach! For the U.S. Open,” he says, panicked. “Maybe I can contact the Italian federation, see if they have any suggestions—”

I interrupt him. “Aurelio, don’t worry. I already have a new coach.”

“You do?” And when I tell him who it is, his eyes widen even further. “Merda! How the hell did you get—”

Before he can finish, someone taps on my shoulder. It’s a petite 20-something brunette wearing a white lace dress and the brightest smile I’ve seen since Bianca this morning. “Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you, but would you be able to take a picture of my fiancé and me?” She gestures behind her to a bald man wearing a blue button-down shirt and a sheepish grin. “I heard you speaking English, so I figured you could help.”

I hide a smile. “Sure. Did you just get engaged?”

Aurelio and I follow behind as she walks us over. “He popped the question a few minutes ago!” she confirms, all enthusiasm. “We’re here on vacation.”

“You’re American?” Aurelio asks them.

The woman’s fiancé grimaces. “Yeah, sorry.”

Aurelio barks a laugh, nudging me with his elbow. “My girlfriend is also American, so I can’t complain too much.”

“What are your names?” I ask, accepting the woman’s phone to take the pictures.

“Bridgette.” She points to herself. “And this is Craig.”

“Amy,” I introduce myself. “That’s Aurelio.”

“Amy...” Bridgette looks at my face with fresh eyes. “And Aurelio...” It takes a moment for it to click, but then she practically screams. “Craig!” She clutches his shoulder. “That’s Amy fucking Bowman. And her boyfriend, Aurelio.”

I grin. “I love that description.”

“We’re from California,” Bridgette explains. “We’ve loved watching you since we went to Indian Wells a few years ago. You’re amazing.” She glances at Aurelio. “Both of you.”

“Grazie,” Aurelio says generously.

“Come on,” I encourage them, even as I can’t stop smiling. “Let’s get these engagement pictures.”