Page 9 of This Could be Love

I gave her a thankful smile.

“You find your way over here okay?” she asked as she pulled open the door that had been built into the fence and led onto the court.

I nodded and followed her to the two benches at the edge.

“Go ahead and get warmed up. I’m going to run and get the balls.”

I took two easy laps around the court and did my usual stretches until Kay came back with a well-filled hopper.

“Today we’re going to be practicing ground strokes,” she announced and pulled the hopper to the baseline.

I looked at her in surprise. “Ground strokes? But that’s about the only thing Idon’thave any difficulties with.”

“That’s exactly why.”

I frowned. “But…”

“I know that over the last couple of weeks you and Milan were working on your weak points, but I’d like to try a different strategy.”

“A different strategy?”

Kay nodded. “I think we should concentrate on your strengths first. Make sure you get some of your self-confidence back.” She took a tennis ball out of the hopper and turned it back and forth in her hand. “Milan sent me the videos of your last training sessions. You’re too tense. Too keyed up. Too much in your head.”

The verbal mirror she held up to me made me gulp.

“You’ve got to start having fun playing tennis again, Lou.”

“Idohave fun.”

She tilted her head. “Youwantto have fun. There’s a difference.”

This time I swallowed my disagreement, even if I still wasn’t of Kay’s opinion. Tenniswasfun for me. That’s why I was so tense. Because I didn’t want to lose that.

“Trust me. When you get your inner game under control”—she tapped her temple twice—“things will work out with the outer one.” She threw me the ball, and I caught it.

I looked at the yellow felt ball in my hand for one or two seconds. Then I nodded.

* * *

“It takes a while to get used to the climate,” Kay was saying as I took shelter in the shade of an umbrella to catch my breath. The sun had risen rapidly in the last hour, and the court was shimmering in the heat, even though it was just after ten. My red tennis dress had been sticking to me like a second skin since the warm-up, and sweat was pouring down my face. I pulled my bottle out of my bag and took a greedy gulp of water. It was lukewarm, but I didn’t care.

“That was a good start.” Kay sat down next to me. “Precise. Punchy. The right length too.”

I took the compliment and didn’t bother to point out that I’d never said anything to the contrary.

“When it comes to the corners, you’re still a little restrained in your movement, but that’s normal following an injury like yours.” She lowered her eyes to my right foot. To the scar peeking out from my socks. “You’ve still got to build your trust back up in your bones. But it’ll get there.”

Kay’s confidence was reassuring, especially as it came from experience. Back in the round before the quarterfinals at the 2005 French Open, she’d torn a ligament in her knee while slipping on the sand. After an almost seven-month break, she made it back to her former place despite being made fun of for lacking in skill by sports media.

“Good.” Kay clapped her hands. “Then we’ll see each other again later this afternoon? I’ve asked Malia to come at two.” She’d told me last night that she had organized a sparring partner for me. Malia was sixteen, had been training with Kay for a little while already, and was consideredthetennis talent of the island. After I nodded, she added, “Gabe’ll be here around four. I forwarded your patient files to him, so he’s in the know.”

“Thanks,” I said sincerely.

Kay had thought of everything. Had given her all to create the best conditions. Now it was up to me. The idea made me feel driven, but under pressure too.

“You’ve got the code for the fitness room?” she asked as we left the court.

I nodded but repeated the combination one more time just to be safe.