See you tomorrow.” Regan shut the front door behind her manager, the final person to leave the evening’s predeparture powwow, and pressed her back against the dense wood before sliding to the tiled floor. She pulled her legs tightly to her chest, wrapped her arms around her calves and rested her face against her knees. In less than twenty-four hours she’d be boarding a plane to London for the Baron’s Open. And she was a complete wreck. The past few weeks had been some of the worst of her career. Her faith in Ben’s return seemed to have an inverse relationship with her performance on the court—the less she believed she’d see him again, the more erratic and sloppy her playing became. Coupled with the equally unexpected resignation of her sparring partner and the rigid, old-fashioned techniques of the new coach Des hired, she felt less ready to face a Grand Slam tournament than she had in years. But in a little over two days’ time, she’d have to do exactly that.
