Tally dabbed her forehead with one of Rupe’s handkerchiefs with his initials stitched into the corner in cobalt blue. The edges of her mouth twitched as she tried to stop the giggle that threatened to break from her throat. Rupe and his pretentious crap, as Cash called his best friend’s fondness for old-fashioned things, always brought a smile to her face.

“I can see you laughing,” Rupe said, swiping back his handkerchief and stuffing it into his pocket. “I know I’m a dying breed.”

“Dying?” Em said, giving him an incredulous look. “The chances of finding another one like you, my dear Rupert Fox-Whittingham, is as likely as a bloody dodo sitting at my feet and begging for a bone.”

“No need to get personal,” Rupe said, playfully sticking his tongue out at Em.

“Jesus,” grumbled Brad. “Can’t you two fuck and get it over with?”

“Ew,” Em said. “Incest or what. Besides, have you forgotten…?” She waved her left hand in front of Brad’s face, displaying a sparkling ruby-and-diamond ring. “Two months to the wedding.”

“I pity David,” Rupe said. “Poor bastard doesn’t know what he’s letting himself in for.”

Tally tuned out their banter, her attention focused on the corner of Wimbledon’s centre court as she waited for Cash to walk out. Despite promising herself she would focus on the future, she couldn’t help her mind winding back three years to the last time she’d sat in the players’ box on finals day, a day that hadn’t turned out so well—the bad luck of Cash losing to Anatoly had been the start of almost a year of hell. And despite being in the dim and distant past, the pain of that time still cut deep. It could still make her wince if she thought about it for too long.

“Are you okay, darling? You look a little pale.”

Tally rubbed Meredith’s arm, an action meant to soothe and reassure. “I’m fine, Meredith,” she said, still unable to call her Mum. She wondered if she ever would. Perhaps too much water had gone under the bridge. “A little hot, but other than that…”

Meredith’s soft smile was full of love. “Here,” she said, passing Tally a bottle of cold water. “Make sure you stay hydrated. Got to look after yourself and the little one.”

As if knowing he was being spoken about, the baby gave an almighty kick. Tally glanced down, her hand automatically rubbing her belly. “Just my luck if he decides to make an appearance today.”

Meredith chuckled, unaware of the pain that lanced through Tally as she remembered the last time she’d gone into labour with Darcey at Kinga’s wedding. She missed Kinga. It was a little over two years since she’d died. The time had sped by, but not one day passed when she didn’t think of her friend and the terrible set of cards she’d been dealt. It was so strange. They’d started out as enemies, but in the end, Kinga had become the older sister Tally never had. She missed her.

The gentle hum of the crowd gradually increased in volume until everyone was on their feet, clapping and hollering and waving banners, hats, and giant tennis balls in the air. Tally’s head turned in time to see Cash walk on court. A rush of adrenaline gave her a much-needed energy boost. It didn’t matter how many times she watched the same sight. Cash sauntering on court, brimming with confidence, was something she’d never get sick of seeing.

He caught her eye and gave a quick wink before his face closed off, concentration overtaking his features, making his skin appear tighter over his cheekbones. It was all a front, a way to lull his opponent into thinking Cash might be worried about the upcoming match.

He went through a long-cultivated routine and then walked on court. He jumped up and down a few times, knees tucked tight, before he hit the racket against his open palm. After the coin toss and obligatory photographs, Cash jogged to the baseline and began warming up.

“He looks good, babes,” Em whispered. “Gonna smash it.”

“Yeah,” Tally said. And she actually believed it. Cash hadn’t put a foot wrong the whole fortnight, and his opponent was a wild card entry, a previous top-ten player who’d been out for a year with a nasty knee injury. The odds were stacked in Cash’s favour, so much so that the bookies had stopped taking bets on him winning a seventh Wimbledon title the second he made it into the quarter final.

And as usual, the bookies had made the right decision. Cash stormed to victory in three straight sets, his win so emphatic Tally felt sorry for his opponent. Nobody wanted to lose six–love, six–one, six–two in any match, let alone the Wimbledon final.

As soon as Cash shook his opponent’s hand, he flashed a triumphant look up at their box. All of Tally’s jumping up and down had unsettled their unborn son, who was doing cartwheels inside her belly. Tally tried to soothe him, her hand making circular motions over the enormous bump. At least there was no sign of early-onset labour. She was determined this baby was going to term. Two more weeks to hang on.

“Shall I go and get Darcey?” Rachael said.

“Oh, yes,” Tally said. “She should be part of this.”

By the time Rachael returned with an exuberant Darcey, the red carpet had been laid out, and the Duke of Kent was making his way down the two rows of ball boys and girls, sharing an odd word with the lucky few.

“Daddy,” Darcey yelled, her chubby little hands reaching down towards the court. Spectators close enough to hear her over the racket made murmuring sounds of approval, their smiles bright as they watched a little girl get excited about seeing her father, even though she couldn’t possibly understand the momentous achievement he’d made.

“Yes, it’s Daddy,” Tally said, settling Darcey onto her lap. “Now, shush. You have to be quiet while the presentations are made.”

Darcey pouted, looking exactly like Cash when he didn’t get his own way. Tally chuckled and shared an understanding glance with Rachael, who clipped Darcey under the chin, bringing on a beaming smile. Darcey was so lucky having two grandmothers who doted on her and an extended family who were always around to spoil her rotten.

The duke had a quick word with the runner-up and handed over the silver plate, and then it was Cash’s turn. He shared a few words with the duke before lifting the winner’s trophy aloft.

Sue Barker appeared at the side of the court, ready to interview the winner and the runner-up. Cash patiently waited, a faint smile gracing his beautiful face as he stared into the distance, seemingly in a world of his own. Tally knew that look—he was overjoyed and overwhelmed in equal measure.

Eventually, Sue called him forward, and he sauntered over, gracing her with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. Tally was sure she could hear a collective sigh from the women in the crowd, regardless of age, and although she couldn’t hear what Cash said, Sue’s blush meant he was having the same effect on court. In the past, Tally would have been crushed by jealousy and worry, but nowadays, she simply felt incredibly fortunate Cash had chosen her—although whenever she told him that, he’d roll his eyes and tell her she’d got it the wrong way around. He was the lucky one for snaring her. And he’d never given her any reason to doubt him. If anything, she grew more and more trusting.

“Congratulations, Cash,” Sue was saying. “Seven Wimbledon titles. How does it feel?”

“I’m not sure I can describe how I feel, Sue,” Cash said. “I’d like to say thanks to Jim for a great match. He’s done fantastically well to get this far after an injury that would have finished off a lot of players. I’m sure he’ll soon be back in the top ten, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see him in the finals again next year.”

Cash paused as a ripple of applause broke around the stadium.

“And your whole family here to watch,” Sue said. “That must be wonderful for you.”

He nodded, his eyes flickering towards Tally. “Yes. It means the world to have them here, especially as my wife is so close to her due date. It’s not easy for her in this heat, but I can’t repeat what she said when I suggested she stay at home.”

Laughter reverberated around the stadium as hundreds of people craned their necks to get a look at Tally. She ducked her head. She’d never liked the attention that came her way because she was married to Cash, but there was no getting away from it.

“And my daughter too. Hi, baby girl,” he said, waving to Darcey, who struggled to get away from Tally’s firm grasp.

A collective “Aaahhh” went up around the stadium.

“So what’s next for you? I presume you’ll be taking a bit of time off to welcome your new arrival, but I hope we’ll see you back for the US Open.”

Cash seemed to hesitate, as though he was in the middle of a decision but hadn’t made up his mind whether to jump left or right. And then he leaped into the unknown. “Actually, Sue, today was my last match. I’ve decided to retire from tennis.”

A composite gasp went up around the stadium. Tally sucked in a breath. “He did it,” she murmured, a surge of pride swelling in her chest.

Rachael’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He never said a word,” she whispered to Tally.

Tally grimaced. “He’s been back and forth for a few weeks. He didn’t want to tell anyone in case he decided to carry on for a while longer.”

When Em and Rupe began to fire questions at her, she shushed them and pointed to Cash, who was waiting for the crowd to settle before continuing.

“I want to spend more time with my family than the rigours of the ATP tour allow. Travelling around the world with a toddler and another one on the way isn’t easy. My wife has sacrificed a lot to support me and my career, and now it’s my turn to support her in her ambitions. My family will always come first. They’ll always be more important than tennis.

“I also want to put more energy into both the Cash Gallagher Foundation—which, as you know, aims to help kids break the cycle of abuse through sport—and the Kinga Harrington-Bourne Cancer Trust.”

“Wow,” Sue said. “I thought as you’d won the Australian, the French, and Wimbledon, you’d be aiming for another career Grand Slam by playing the US Open.”

Cash glanced up at the players’ box. “I’ve already won the Grand Slam, Sue,” he said, his eyes teeming with love as his gaze collided with Tally’s. Her eyes pricked with tears as wave after wave of emotions raced through her. She glanced down at Darcey, who was bouncing on the spot, and automatically cradled her belly. Her life was complete. She blew Cash a kiss.

“Well, I, for one, will miss watching you play,” Sue said. “It’s been a joy to watch you over the years. But thanks for giving the BBC the exclusive.” She grinned. “Now, I’m sure this crowd want a chance to photograph you with this wonderful trophy.”

She waved her hand for Cash to follow the tradition of carrying the trophy to all four sides of the court, to give ordinary people a chance to get a photograph of a lifetime, but Cash had always bucked rules and tradition. He picked up the trophy, carefully placed it next to his kit bag, and began the climb up to the players’ box. Many had done the same climb in the past—it had become a bit of a tradition since Pat Cash paved the way in 1987—but they usually attempted it before the trophy was presented.

Cash received several pats on the back as he made his way through the crowd. On reaching his target, he vaulted into the players’ box and threw his arms around Tally. “Love you, baby.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured in his ear.

As Tally spoke, Darcey shouted, “Daddy, Daddy, up, up.”

He did as she asked, swinging her into his arms and settling her on his hip. Then he kissed his mum and Meredith. Even Em was awarded with a brief peck before he shook hands with the rest of the team. The pictures would undoubtedly go viral in minutes, but for once, Tally didn’t care.

“Hey, sweetness,” he whispered in a voice so low only she could hear. “How about we get out of here and start our new life?”

Tally leaned into him as happiness swept through her.

“Ace,” she said, “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”