I hid in Italy for three weeks. Greg came with me and kicked my ass on the court. He actually made a great practice partner. I was back to clean eating and drinking only water. It surprised me when Greg brought a bottle of wine to my room one night.

"What's this for?" I asked when he gave me one of his golly-gee smiles. Greg was cute. And, married to a lovely woman who worshipped him.

"I've been your coach for three months now and I have no idea what makes you tick. It's time for a come to daddy talk. Or in your case, come to coach. I figured the alcohol might make it easier."

"You'll need more than one bottle," I told him. He came back to my room ten minutes later with two more bottles in his hands. "Does your wife know you're getting drunk with a slutty tennis star tonight?" I smiled to take the sting out of calling myself a slut.

"She suggested it. We've had many long conversations about you."

"How romantic."

He poured our first glasses and tilted the edge of his glass against mine. "To a perfect season sometime in the future."

My smile died and I took a large gulp of wine without clinking his glass. He stared at me quizzically. "This is my last year, Greg."

The declaration didn't faze him. He lifted his glass again. "Then to a perfect life off the court."

Our glasses met. Over the next two hours I told him everything relevant that led me to this point in my life. I laughed and cried, cussed, and stormed around the room at times. He kept my glass full and only interrupted when he didn't follow what I said.

"My father thinks I screw men because of my mother's infidelity." I think I slurred the end of the sentence.

"He may have a point."

I whirled around and grabbed a chair because the room spun. "Of course he has a point."

Greg smiled, or at least I think he did. My eyes could no longer focus. "You aren't a slut, Olivia. You don't have the reputation as one either. I have no idea how many guys you've slept with. You've said they're tennis pros. Funny how they don't talk about you. I travel those locker rooms. I've heard the explicit details of more hookups than you can imagine. Your name never comes up. They respect you and that's not easy to do in this sport. If you've slept with them, they aren't talking."

"Really?" I was dumbfounded. I hadn't really slept with as many as I portrayed. I just slept with them multiple times. No strings. I was honest from the start and had very strict rules. My only interest was sex.

"Really. So tell me about this grand plan you have to put your man and father in their place."

I told him the entire crazy idea. Drunk, it sounded even better that it had when I came up with it. I passed out on my bed, alone in my room sometime after midnight. Three empty wine bottles sat somewhere.

My head pounded when I woke up the next day. It was time. And, it didn't matter how bad my hangover was; I needed to go home. I grabbed up all the items from the room and bathroom. On my way out of the bathroom, I took a last glance at three opened test boxes in the trash. Oh well, it didn't really matter. Here goes nothing.

I booked a flight for me and Greg. He wasn't overly happy with me. His head hurt as badly as mine did. We flew the redeye and slept most of the way. Of course, we had customs to contend with after we landed. All went smoothly, even though it took time. By the time I lay in my own bed, exhaustion pulled me under. I slept for thirteen hours.

I woke up, took a few ibuprofens, and sent Brack a text. I checked in with my father. He was at his office in the city. He would meet me at his house in two hours. I had little time to accomplish what needed doing. A quick shower and I ran out the door.

I managed to complete all my tasks and five minutes late, I walked into my father's house. Brack and my dad waited. Brack looked good enough to eat. Or, at the very least lick. I forced myself to turn to my father. "I owe you an apology, Daddy. You're stubborn, misogynistic, and you drive me crazy. That doesn't change the fact that I love you. I know even though tennis isn't your favorite thing, you're proud of me. It should make you quite happy to know that I've quit the pro circuit. Wimbledon was my last professional match."

"I don't think so, Olly," Brack spoke up before my father could. "Pardon me, sir, but she loves the game. It's a part of her and I won't stand by and watch her turn away from it."

That's why I loved this man. "You can stop right there, Brack. I have a very good reason for leaving tennis. Maybe, and it's a very small maybe, I'll go back someday. Age is against me, though, and I've faced that fact. I'm satisfied with my decision."

My father broke in, "I agree with Brack, Olivia. I know I could be more supportive. I just worried about you settling down. Play another year or two. Brack's told me he isn't going anywhere. He supports you, so it's the least I can do."

I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of my two favorite men in the world digging their own graves. I was seriously enjoying every minute. "Dad, is your shotgun still in the house?"

"What? What are you talking about?" my father asked with a completely stumped look on his face.

"I'm not sure if you'll need it, but it wouldn't hurt to have it handy." Both of them looked at me like I'd completely lost my mind. "I won't be playing tennis for the rest of this season or into the next because I'm pregnant. Brack visited me in Wimbledon three weeks ago. The pregnancy test kit can detect pregnancy at two weeks. According to my calendar and Brack's visit, the baby is due thirty-seven weeks from now."

Priceless.

If I flicked my finger against either of them they'd have fallen over. Brack was the first to come out of his shock. He jumped up from the couch and did what I'd wanted him to do since I arrived. He kissed me. It wasn't punishing this time. This kiss was sweet and filled with so much love I almost felt guilty. Almost being the key word.

"I love you," he said when he pulled back.

"I'm glad because I love you." I looked over his shoulder at my father who wiped a tear from his eye. I took a step back and gazed at Brack. "Do you love me enough to marry me?"

He nodded slowly. "As soon as we have a judge."

"Good, because he'll be here in five minutes," I said as I looked up at the wall clock. "I need to change. My bag is out in the car." Shock registered again on Brack's face. "You're not backing out, are you? My dad still has time to grab his shotgun."

Something changed in Brack's beautiful eyes. "Grab your bag and change. We're doing this again when my parents can be present, though."

That worked for me just fine. Judge Heethly was pulling up when I went outside. I'd told him I was pregnant when I went to his office and begged him to officiate. He expedited the marriage license and pulled a few strings because we didn't have Brack's signature on the application. It also helped that the judge was my uncle, my mother's brother.

Everyone stood waiting as I came down the stairs in my white, knee-length dress. Brack walked over to me and took my arm steering me in the direction of the judge. I almost burst out laughing because his grasp on my arm made me saying my vows a sure thing.

My uncle didn't waste any time. "Do you Brack Allan Jacobs take Olivia Margaret Stradmore as your lawfully wedded-"

I gazed at Brack as my uncle read the vows. When it came time for Brack to say 'I do', I waited. His eyes stayed glued to mine. He took a step closer to me and leaned in. "Are you truly pregnant," he whispered.

"Three test kits said no but the look on your face was worth the fib," I whispered back.

Brack grinned and without taking his eyes off me, said, "I do."

When it was my turn, I stepped closer to Brack and whispered, "Can we try for that baby tonight?"

"Yes, and as many nights as it takes."

"I do," I said loudly.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," my uncle said while fighting laughter. He and my father assuredly heard every word Brack and I said. "You may kiss the bride, but please wait to consummate the marriage until I'm gone. I don't think my heart or your father's can take it."

I turned to my father, who was fighting his own battle against laughter. "You never do the expected, Olivia."

I looked back up at Brack. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"A better thing is for you to kiss your groom." He pulled me against him and gave me a kiss that had me coming to my toes. I heard my dad and uncle mutter something, but I didn't care what it was.

The kiss ended with me breathless.

"You're a grand slam, Olly Jacobs."

I was and I knew it.

END OF PART SIX