Page 60 of Love, Amy

Aurelio stands beside me now. His face is set, made from Italian marble. “Enough,” he tells my father. “You’ve made your point. You’re hurting her.”

“Hurting her?” Becks says in disbelief. “I’m the one who’s been lied to. I’m the one who’s lost my dream, the Bowman legacy.”

I shake my head. “What do you think I’m going to do? Quit tennis and get my MRS degree?”

“It’s what all women do.” Beck spits the words out with disgust. “They quit early to have babies or get married or spend more time with family.”

I feel sick at the blatant misogyny. It’s been there, festering within him, but I always ignored it. Now, all the anger and indignation I’ve felt towards him bubbles up, burning hot. “You did the same thing!” I shout, pointing at him. “Everyone does it. You quit when I came to live with you.”

He matches my volume. “You’re right, Amy, I did! And it’s the worst mistake I ever made!”

The words hit me so hard I take a step back. I know they’re the truth.

My father says real losers cry, and I’ve always hated to show him I’m a loser, but tears fill my eyes.

Aurelio puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards him in a protective embrace. “You should go.” I’ve never heard him sound so cold, all the lovely Italian warmth bled from his accent. My father does love to make things bleed.

I press my face into Aurelio’s shoulder, taking a few deep breaths to slow my tears. “Go?” I hear my father say. “I’m not going anywhere without my daughter. You’re the reason things aren’t the same between us.”

There it is again, a twinge of hurt in his voice. I know there’s a small part of him that cares about Amy his daughter more than Amy the tennis player.

A very, very small part.

I take another deep breath and then step from Aurelio’s embrace, looking at my father with a tearstained face. “Things haven’t been right between us for a while, Dad.” I thrust out my arm between us, dotted with angry stress hives. “I’ve been having these for over a year, since before Suzy left.”

Beck glances at my arm, confused. “Okay, we’ll manage them. You can ask Vince, if he’ll come back after I fired him—”

“Fired him?” My body goes cold. “You fired Vince?”

Beck narrows his eyes. “Of course I did. He was covering for you. I don’t know how many lies he told me over these past few months, but I can’t have that from someone working for me—”

“He works for me!” I explode. “Not you.” I put my hands over my eyes, trying to think. There’s a moment of dead space, where we all wonder what’s next. I know this is my last chance to get the life I need, the life I deserve, and keep my father. I drop my hands. “Dad,” I say evenly. “I want to keep playing tennis, and I want to win a Grand Slam. That hasn’t changed. But other things have to. Vince will continue to work as my physio, if he’s willing. I’ll keep dating Aurelio, if he’s willing.” I give Aurelio a ghost of a smile, which he returns with relief. I turn back to my father. “And I’m moving out. I need my own place.”

The words sound reasonable. The words sound doable.

My father is in disbelief. He stomps over to Aurelio, jamming his finger in his face. “Dad, stop—” I try to intervene.

“You!” Beck fumes. “Did you put these ideas in her head? Did you tell her that our relationship needed to change?”

“I didn’t have to tell her!” Aurelio says, exasperated. He leans back from the accusatory finger in his face. “I didn’t have to tell her anything!”

Beck’s eyes are wild. He turns back towards me, considering. Whatever he sees makes him reach out and grab my wrist, pulling me across the room. “We’re leaving,” he orders. “You’re only doing these things because Aurelio said you should—”

“Let go of me!” I squirm. “I’m staying here. Aurelio has to leave soon!”

Aurelio’s eyes flash with anger. “Get your hands off her!” He reaches between my father and me, trying to separate us.

I don’t even see it happen.

One moment, the three of us are twisted together, full of anger and belief, and the next Aurelio is on the floor, clutching his eye and my father looms high above us both, his free hand fisted in the air, the other still gripping my wrist so hard it hurts.

“Aurelio!” I cry. I twist free of Beck’s grip and hurry to his side. “Are you alright?”

Aurelio lowers his hand from his eye. I can already see it’s raised and pink. “He hit me.” Aurelio’s voice is low, stunned. I’m sure he’s never been in a fight in his whole life.

And now he has a black eye from his girlfriend’s father.

I run a soothing hand through Aurelio’s hair before I stand up, careful and precise. Beck lowers his arm, stunned himself. My father is a fighter, but rarely with his fists.