Chapter Twenty

After Mercedes settled back into her condo, she found herself wallowing in melancholia over the dilemma the press corps presented that threatened to keep from her enjoying a normal, private life. She pondered what her life might have been like if she hadn’t broken her wrist and instead had gone on to become a top professional tennis player.

What had she contemplated might have happened to her life after years of practicing with coaches, workouts with trainers and diets prepared by nutritionists? Hadn’t she always dreamed of being a champion? Hadn’t she considered how her life would have changed the moment her name appeared at the top of the list of champions? The excitement? And hadn’t she daydreamed about how she’d respond to reporters and photographers waiting for her after every event? Apparently she had forgotten.

She spent a couple of hours recalling that time of her life and remembered that she had never actually had any problems being treated like a celebrity when she became the U.S. Junior Champion. What caused her to react this way now? And then the answer dawned on her. Her problem started after she was injured. The hounding. The humility she suffered, along with the pain. The loss of her future plans and dreams…

The current fear of the media had nothing to do with her childhood and the hurt over the years of not being adopted, but instead had to do with her accident and the surgery and their constant chasing after her with questions about her career and her future, until she began to believe they reveled in her agony of defeat.

Relief over this discovery brought a smile to her lips. This didn’t mean she wanted to live the life of a celebrity, but this conclusion made her feel better about herself. Before she could pick up the phone to call Faith and share this information, her intercom buzzed.

Another florist delivery! She hurried downstairs to sign the receipt, and the young man said, “I don’t think you can carry these and I’ll be happy to help.”

There were three large boxes of flowers and she barely managed carrying the one. She thanked the driver, gave him a tip, and hurried to see what Dante had sent. No card, of course, only six-dozen long-stem red roses complete with baby’s breath and ferns. Fortunately, she had three vases, and after arranging the roses, placed one vase on her desk, one in her living room and one on the night table next to her bed.

She went back in the living room and sat down to admire the flowers. The phone rang and she knew immediately Dante would be on the other end. She picked up the phone, “How do you always know when to call me? I thought perhaps you had my condo bugged.”

She heard him chuckle. “It’s called a tracking system—they texted me and told me the flowers had been delivered.”

“Flowers? You mean this vulgar display of beautiful, fragrant red roses?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“You shouldn’t have, Dante. However, they are lovely and smell wonderful and my home looks like a photo in the Architectural Digest. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Send me a photo and a selfie.”

“Okay.”

Then came the silence she hated.

“I’d like to see you, Mercedes. I take that back. I need to see you. I want to see you. I miss you, but my schedule is too tight and I can’t get to New York for a while.”

“I don’t know what to do, Dante. I will admit that I’m miserable now without you and I love you and miss you terribly.”

“That’s a start,” then more silence before he spoke again. “We need to discuss what happened in Florida, and I don’t mean our love making. That was perfect.”

“Your parents were fortunate that incident in the tabloids worked out in their favor. They didn’t have to live with all that horrible publicity, but that, at least for me, makes our being together nearly impossible. Suppose, Dante, you and I went public with our relationship, and there was a photo of you in the press one day kissing someone else. I’d be devastated when the world would know not only that you cheated on me, but they’d know before I did.”

“That’s mere speculation on your part, Mercedes. And, I would never cheat on you, or anyone for that matter.”

“If you did, or if your father had cheated on your mother, that would be disastrous enough, but having your private life smeared all over the world is something I’m not willing to risk.”

“Do you believe that I would never cheat on you?”

“I don’t think you would, but beautiful women are thrown at your feet all the time. I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

“You don’t have to, Mercedes. I don’t plan on seeing anyone else. You’re the one whose been missing in my life. However, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I left and I have a solution to the problem.”

“Are you planning on sharing?”

“Yes—we can get married. You’d still have to deal with the media, but we’d be together as a couple, and when you got pregnant, they’d know when the baby would be delivered before you,” he joked.

“Pregnant? Did you say, pregnant?”

“Yes. It’s one way I can be certain to keep you close by my side. I want a family and I want us to create that family together. There are many reasons couples divorce, and I hope that will never happen to us, but I can’t see into the future, Mercedes. I will put in writing my promise never to cheat on you and never risk being caught kissing someone else. The press will never have anything negative concerning me to print on the front page of some damned tabloid. When you’re alone tonight, I’d like you to reminisce about our night together making love and then think of all the fun we’d have getting pregnant and having a baby. Let’s change the subject for now and practice our interview.”

“All right,” she answered, not sure whether or not she was in shock. “Mr. Edwards, since we’ve covered your background and learned about your exciting life—the traveling, living in Europe, becoming a grand champion, is there anything special you’d like to do in your lifetime? Something maybe on your bucket list?”

“Hmm. I can think of one thing offhand.”

“Would you care to share that with your fans?”

“Yes. I’d like to get you in the backseat of my limo.”

“I can’t print that!”

There was silence on his end, and all she could hear was her own breathing.

He spoke, “I know you’re smiling and I know your cheeks are flushed. I’m going to hang up now and let you think about this: This is my formal proposal until we can be together and I can get down on one knee. Will you marry me, Mercedes McFadden? However, you’re not allowed to answer until you are ready to say, ‘Yes, Dante, I will marry you and have your babies.’ If that doesn’t convince you how much I love you, I don’t know what else to say.”

Mercedes laughed. “Now it’s babies, plural?”

“Do you love me enough, Mercedes?”

“More than I can tell you.”

“Do you have something you’d like to share from your bucket list,” he asked, “perhaps, you’d like to attend Wimbledon?”

“That’s not it,” she answered. “I’d like to record an album with Willie Nelson?”

“Willie Nelson?”

“I still love you, though.”

“I love you, too,” he said, chuckling. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I can’t, but I can sing all the songs on my Willie Nelson CD and sound like him.”

“I’ll have to hear this. In the meantime, if I ever get a chance to meet him, I’ll ask him if he’d be interested in meeting you and recording an album.”

“Don’t you dare, Dante.”

“Good night, Mercedes. I’ll call you soon…”

Mercedes sat on her sofa, stunned, happy and filled with his love and thoughts of him. She wanted to give into her temptation to call him back, but decided against that since she wasn’t ready to answer his proposal. She picked up the phone and called Faith, instead.