It was Finals Day: my last day at Wimbledon, and also the last time I’d probably see Charlie. But I couldn’t think about that, not when I still had to make it through the day at the refreshment tent without breaking down into tears—or breaking stuff.

I was just getting ready when my phone rang. It was my dad. I had been avoiding him ever since the last scandal, evading his calls by texting vague responses about how I was doing (“fine”) and if I needed anything (“nope”). But I was going to be heading home soon, and I knew he was worried. So I accepted the call on my WhatsApp.

“Hey, Dad.” I braced myself for the sound of his disappointed voice.

“Emmy, how are you?” He didn’t sound disappointed at all. He sounded worried. And I felt worse for knowing that I caused that worry.

“I’m OK,” I told him.

There was a pause.

“You know, you can talk to me,” he said, though even he sounded a little hesitant about it. He cleared his throat. “I know I’m not as good at this kind of stuff as your mom was, but I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, my eyes beginning to tear.

“Thanks, Dad,” I somehow croaked out.

“I’m really proud of you,” he told me, and that’s when the tears started in earnest.

“Why?” I blubbered. “All I’ve done is make a fool of myself. Publically. I’m so sorry, Dad. So sorry I didn’t listen to you. I should have stayed home.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You did the right thing going to London.”

I sniffed. Was I still talking to my dad? The one who had fought me tooth and nail over this trip? The one who wanted me to stay at home and work next to him all summer?

“I know I’ve been a little bit overprotective these past few years,” he admitted. “Losing your mom was hard on me, but I know it was harder on you. And I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You were great,” I assured him.

“Thanks, sweetie, but I know there are things I could have done better.” He sighed. “I should have encouraged you to follow your dreams. To take risks and embrace life. It’s the kind of advice your mother would have given you.”

“I miss her.” My voice broke, tears dripping down my cheeks.

“I miss her too.” My dad’s voice sounded hoarse as well. “And I know that she would be so proud of you. Because you followed your dream. You took risks.”

“And look where it got me,” I said. “I’m a joke. A tabloid headline everyone can make fun of.”

“You’re not a joke to me,” my dad insisted. “You’re the bravest person I know. You embraced life. Or as your mother would say, you embraced the magic.” I could hear him smile. “And I think that if she was here now, she’d tell you not to give up.”

“I’m not giving up,” I said, feeling defensive.

“Your aunt told me about the job offer,” he said meaningfully. “And it sounds like it’s a really wonderful opportunity.”

“It is,” I sighed. “But I just don’t think I can stay here.”

“Why? Because of Charlie?” When I didn’t answer, my dad continued. “Falling in love is hard, sweetie. And it’s scary. But it’s brave too.”

“It doesn’t feel brave,” I confessed. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

Was what I felt for Charlie love? A couple of days ago, I would have said yes, I was falling for him. But now that I’d hit the ground, I just didn’t know anymore.

“I know, sweetie,” Dad said, comforting. “It’s hard to put yourself out there, and open up like that. But there are certain people who are worth that risk. Is Charlie one of them?”

I felt an ache. “Dad, he broke up with me.”

“But you still care for him, don’t you?” he prodded.

Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, I nodded. “I think I’m falling in love with him,” I whispered. “Or at least, I was.”

“Tell him,” my dad urged. “Be brave.”

I gulped. “I have to go.” I didn’t want to make a promise that I couldn’t keep. Chances were, even if I wanted to tell Charlie I loved him—which seemed like a recipe for further heartbreak—I wouldn’t even have the chance.

“Ok, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

“And don’t let those bastard paparazzi bring you down,” he added, sounding fierce. “If they get too close, just give them that right hook I taught you.”

I managed to laugh. “I don’t think the British police would appreciate that. But thank you. For everything.”

* * *

After the conversation with my dad, I headed off to Wimbledon for my last day in the tea tent. I was never one to watch the clock, but today I was counting down the hours until I was done. Charlie was everywhere, it seemed: old interviews playing on the TV screens in the tent, people talking about him everywhere. There was even a massive video screen set up on the lawn outside Center Court, with hundreds of people gathered who didn’t have tickets for the main event.

And his name was on everyone’s lips, especially the people who stopped to stare at me. I felt their judgment burning holes through me, but I refused to show any reaction. Just like Dad warned, the press was still swarming, as if they thought they could cause another scandal to happen just by wishing for it.

I just wanted to get out of there. Out of Wimbledon. Out of London. Away from this mess I’d made of my perfect summer adventure.

It felt like I was on autopilot. I was there, but I wasn’t. I kept thinking about the conversation I’d had with my dad, and how for the first time since Mom died, I felt like we were beginning to come together as a family again. There had been this great, gaping hole that neither of us wanted to address, but now it seemed like we were going to be able to find a way to cope. Together. And I hadn’t realized how much I needed that. How much I needed my dad.

So right now, the only thing I was looking forward to was back in San Diego. The job with Sara Saunders was amazing—truly, life-changing amazing—but was I ready for something like that?

“You look like you’re somewhere else,” Jules observed as she entered the back room where I had gone to hide from prying eyes.

I had intended to keep myself busy by folding napkins and putting supplies away, but I had just been staring out into nothingness for the past fifteen minutes. Blinking up at Jules, I slowly returned to reality.

“It’s almost over,” she said sympathetically.

“Yeah,” I agreed, though it didn’t do anything to improve my mood.

Suddenly Paige burst through the door.

“There you are!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Come on!”

“What?” I was confused, but couldn’t do anything but follow her, stumbling at her fast pace. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see, it’s a surprise,” she told me with a mischievous look. We headed into the main building and down the winding tunnel of rooms that I still hadn’t figured out how to navigate.

“I’m not in the mood for any big surprises,” I told her, reluctant. “Can it wait?”

“Nope.” Paige ignored all my protests, dragging me along past the offices and equipment rooms. Finally she opened a door, shoved me inside, and slammed it behind me. I grabbed the handle. It was locked. Dammit.

“Paige!” I pounded my fist on the door. “What the hell?”

“I don’t think they’re going to let us out,” someone said behind me.

I knew that voice. And so did my heart, which did a little somersault.

Bracing myself, I turned.

“Hello, Charlie.”