The first thing Charlie saw when she walked into Elite Athlete Management’s hospitality tent was Marco leaning in close to Natalya, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh. He looked coolly casual in tight-fitting pants and an untucked linen shirt, his longish hair so perfectly in place it was impossible not to wonder if he’d had it blown out. It was annoying to admit, but he was only the second-most-attractive person in the room after Natalya. The girl looked stunning: white Hervé bandage dress, four-inch pink patent pumps, legs so long and lean and gorgeously bronzed that it was hard to look away. Charlie looked down at her own strapless dress and sparkly gold sandals – both of which she’d loved mere moments earlier – and felt like a teenager headed to prom.

‘Stop staring,’ Jake said, pulling her around by the upper arm.

‘Did you see how he’s flirting with her?’ Charlie hissed.

‘He’s like that with everyone. He’s Marco.’

‘She wants him, I know she does.’

‘You’re probably right. But what do you think the chances are that they haven’t slept together yet?’

Charlie turned to look at Jake. Why had she never even considered that? Of course they had – maybe even currently were. It made perfect sense. It would almost be insane to think otherwise.

‘Do you think so?’

Jake sighed. ‘I don’t know. Probably. Ben says she doesn’t seem to care much that they barely sleep together.’

Charlie knew Benjy wasn’t at Wimbledon because of the start of training camp, but Jake told her they’d been FaceTiming every day. Jake was headed to Miami to visit him the following week, and they were going to work out a plan for going public. The NFL had seen only one openly gay player before, and the news of one of the most famous and accomplished quarterbacks of all time being in a loving relationship with another man was going to generate a media shitstorm. Charlie was so happy for Jake – for them both – but she felt sick even imagining what they still had to face.

‘Where’s Dad?’ Charlie asked, glancing around. ‘Didn’t you say he was meeting us here?’

‘Yeah, he was on the phone with Eileen when I left. He should be here any minute.’

Charlie followed Jake’s gaze toward the door leading from the rented villa to the enormous outdoor tent and saw an Elite intern leading a half dozen reporters and cameramen toward them.

‘You ready for this?’ he asked.

‘Do I have a choice?’

Jake didn’t answer but steered Charlie toward the area near the white lacquer bar where Marco and Natalya were flirting, or fake-flirting, or whatever it was they were doing.

‘Hola, gorgeous,’ he said, leaning in to kiss Charlie tenderly on the lips. Anyone who happened to witness that kiss would swear they were soul mates.

‘Sooooo,’ Natalya said, drawing out the word to make it sound like a song. ‘Congratulations on finally making it to a final.’

If anyone else caught the sarcasm, they ignored it.

‘I first got to the finals of Wimbledon, what, six years ago? Yes. I was only eighteen. A baby. And won four Slams since then. You must be so relieved you finally scored one. It was getting embarrassing, no?’

Shocked by Natalya’s brazenness, Charlie almost laughed. She felt Jake beside her and heard Todd in her ear: Focus. Win. Distraction is for losers.

‘Too bad you won’t win this one. Maybe next time,’ Natalya hissed. Under her breath, so only Charlie could hear. She stared straight into Charlie’s eyes and then turned to walk away. Charlie watched as a group of wealthy-looking businessmen parted their circle for her in an elated welcome.

A panel of flat screens hung over the bar. Tonight they featured great matches from the past, and some highlights of the previous two weeks at Wimbledon. When she glanced up, Charlie saw herself put away an overhead in her match against Veronica.

Marco whistled. ‘That was a very nice shot. I remember that one,’ he said, placing his hand on the small of her back.

A photographer approached. ‘It's been decades since we had a couple where both people were in the finals before,’ the photographer said.

‘Wait until we both win,’ Marco said, tightening his grip around her waist and pulling her toward him. Just as his lips met hers, Marco squeezed Charlie’s ass. Hard. And not nicely. She yelped a little and wrenched away, but then she remembered the cameras recording everything. Right behind them stood her father, watching the whole thing, an inscrutable expression on his face.

‘Don’t do that again,’ she whispered into Marco’s ear, but he merely laughed.

‘Come here, Charlie. Smile for the cameras.’

The photographers snapped away as Charlie and Marco stood arm in arm with enormous plastered-on smiles, their piles of wavy dark hair pressed together. It occurred to her she couldn’t remember when they’d last slept together. Being seen together as a couple was mutually beneficial, but when had all the flirtation stopped? When had they stopped sneaking around to each other’s rooms late at night and texting each other racy things? Wasn’t a casual hookup supposed to at least be fun?

Charlie headed over to her father when the photos were complete. ‘Will you walk me back to the flat?’ she asked.

‘You’re ready to leave?’

‘Very. And I’d love it if you wanted to take a walk with me.’

Mr Silver nodded, and Charlie could see he was happy to be asked. She made her way across the tent and excused herself for interrupting Jake while he spoke with a group of other agents.

‘You okay?’ Jake whispered. ‘It hasn’t even been an hour.’

‘I posed for all the pictures and drank my Pellegrino, and now I want to take my nervous self home and watch TV before bed. Dad’s coming with me.’

‘Okay,’ Jake said, kissing her cheek. ‘Remember, tonight is like any other night. Try to zone out and relax a little, and then stick to your routine. You’re ready for this final, Charlie. I know you are.’

Charlie inhaled sharply. Final. At Wimbledon. The first Grand Slam final of her career was happening the next day. ‘I can’t believe my first final is against her.’

Jake looked over at Natalya, who had found her way back to Marco. She’d perched herself on the arm of his chair, where her already minuscule dress rode up so high that the entire party could confirm that Natalya wore a black lace thong. She was laughing delightedly at something Marco had said.