Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Cadence burst out laughing.
The emotion hanging thick in the room lessened as everyone joined her.
But I sought Tom’s hand, running into it because he was seeking mine.
He took firm hold, and with his strength seeping into my skin, I was able to hold it together rather than losing it after my daughter shared her dream.
A beautiful dream.
An ambitious and creative and interesting dream.
A dream that was a part of me.
A dream that involved me.
But a dream that was all hers.
Chloe drained her champagne flute then proffered it to Judge, stating, “I’ll take it without the pomegranate juice this time, mon beau. And maybe with a splash of gin, simple syrup and lemon.”
Sasha followed suit, after saying, “I hear that.”
I held Tom’s hand and found my daughter’s eyes.
She smiled radiantly at me.
And all I could think was, I loved that happiness, I loved the excitement she had to go forth and tackle her life. I loved she knew what her path was and was raring to follow it.
I loved she was going to do that.
And she wanted me with her.
Last, I loved that Rollo and my creative legacy would live on through the most brilliant thing we ever created.
Yes.
I loved that last part most of all.
* * *
Still May…
Roland-Garros
France
“I think we’re all a little surprised to see that performance on clay of Rod McMurtry’s protégé, Dougal Baldwin, aren’t we, Tom? He’s a grass court player. Just twenty-one. And now he’s in the semi-finals here at Roland-Garros.”
“Agreed,” Tom replied. “What we’ve seen this year from Baldwin means the top players need to watch their backs. He’s not simply getting better fast, he owned that court today. He looked like a man on top of his game. Confident. Not once losing focus. Straight sets against the number two seed? Even with Baldwin making the quarter finals in Australia, I don’t think anyone imagined that would happen here in France.”
Dave, his co-commentator, watched the monitors and chuckled. “Well, there you go. Red-blooded Scotsman, he has his win, and he’s found a favorite in the crowd.”
Tom frowned at what he saw on his monitor.
Specifically, Dougal Baldwin, who was known on the tour as enjoying female company on his off times, going right to Cadence, who was sitting by her mother, both of them standing and clapping after Dougal’s win, and Dougal was extending a hand toward Cadence.
Beaming, she took it and shook it.
“You don’t look happy,” Dave joked.
Tom glared at him.
“Oh-ho,” Dave said jovially. “Stepdad is not a fan.”
Cut it out, Tom mouthed.
Dave gave him a the-audience-is-going-to-eat-this-up look.
“Let’s get back to the match,” Tom said. “That break serve in the first set clearly threw Giamatti. He never recovered from it. Baldwin saw it and went in for the kill.”
When they finished the commentary, Tom yanked off his headset and went right to their producer.
“He pulls that shit again, he calls alone. I walk.”
“Tom,” she murmured placatingly.
“You’re very aware I don’t need this job, Sue,” he reminded her. “I’ll buy myself out of my contract. My family isn’t up for discussion on-air.”
Dave bellied up.
“It was all in fun, Tom. Relax,” he said. “And I’m sure this isn’t news to you, but you’re again seeing one of the most famous women in the world. People are going to expect you to talk about it. Especially if she and her daughter are sitting courtside, so damned close, because you wangled those seats, her daughter can shake hands with the players after the match.”
“I’m calling tennis, not hosting a gossip show, Dave,” Tom returned. “And in no way is my private life something people expect me to talk about when I’m calling a goddamned tennis match.”
“You’re high-profile. You’ve always been high-profile,” Dave shot back.
Tom was surprised, and annoyed. He’d been working with Dave for years. They were friends. So it didn’t need to be said they’d never had this issue or any issue.
“You’re high-profile too, Dave. Shall I mention your daughter’s DUI on-air?” Tom asked.
Dave’s face got red.
“She’s not courtside,” Dave gritted.
“I’ve been sitting beside you for a decade. You’ve not once mentioned Genny, Chloe, Matt or Sasha. So what the fuck?” Tom demanded.
“Dave, that was off. You know it. Don’t do that shit again,” Sue waded in.
She turned to Tom.
“Tom, you’re dating the coolest chick on the planet. I’m sorry, if she shows at a match, and the cameras find her, and you’re calling, it’s going to be noted. We all know, if you’re dating her, the cameras are going to find her. When it’s no longer new, if she comes regularly, she’ll just be expected to be there. But even when it’s not new, she’s Mika Stowe. The cameras are going to find her. Now, it’s new, Tom, and because it is, it’s noteworthy. So a mention and some on-air, good-natured ribbing will be expected. You’ve been in this business long enough, you know that.” She went back to Dave. “But the daughter’s off-limits. Jesus, Dave. What were you thinking?”