TATUM RETURNED TO THE MATCH JUST IN TIME FOR FINAL SERVE. And just seconds after there had been distinct murmurs of a point penalty for each side -- as for Patrick, he'd spent two minutes jamming his racket into the green painted court. But now, looking straight ahead at Art, he looks entirely guilt-stricken like he's about to lose his best friend all over again. 

And Art -- oh, Art. He had been staring down at his feet as he walked, his shoulders slumped with a sudden sadness. 

When he looked up for just a split second, Tatum could see the war he'd been fighting behind those tear-filled blue eyes of his. 

With what felt like a hand twisting her guts inside out, Tatum let out a sigh as her leg began to bounce up and down from the anticipation eating away at her. 

She turned just the slightest to face Tashi in her seat. "What happened?" 

Tashi doesn't even look at her. "What?" 

"While I was gone, Tashi." She says. Not the last thirteen years, is what she doesn't say. "Why are they both so upset?" 

She shakes her head, relaxing back into her seat like the blonde's words have somehow caused every single muscle in her body to relax, sparing her the smallest look. "Maybe you should stay in your seat next time and find out." 

Tatum scoffs, not trying to prevent the way her eyes roll to the back of her head in annoyance one bit.  Mumbling, but still talking loud enough for Tashi to hear, she speaks. "Fuck off." 

Tashi lets out a sound that echos similar to Tatum's scoff, but remains quiet. 

Cutting both of them out of their trances of silent hatred, though, Art serves his ball and hits it right past Patrick's head -- the felt almost coming off of it's ball shape as it slams against that wall behind him. 

And the yell he lets out is so loud and powerful that it even makes Tatum flinch in her seat. 

The referee calls an out and Patrick and Art just look at each other. Both with different emotion but for the same shared reason. 

Patrick breaks the contact for a quick second by looking up at Tatum with a knowing look in his eye, even giving her a sad smile. But what Tatum didn't expect was a nod. 

Mainly because she knew exactly what that meant. 

The game continues for another serve but is another out and during that time, Tatum spirals for a black sharpie. 

"What are you looking for, Miss?" Her assistant asks from the seat behind her. 

"Do you have something to write with?" She asks, not bothering to continue scanning through her purse as her assistant quickly hands her one. And without hesitation, she opens the cap and begins writing in the palm of her hand. 

And while she does that, Art looks down at his wedding ring one final time before this final serve. He toys with it, even. Spiraling it around his finger like it's a fidget toy and a distraction. But the only thing it was ever distracting Art from was his marriage. He'd look down at it and instead of picturing the day he married Tashi -- flashing hot images of what Tatum would look like in that same white gown she wore flood his mind. The life they could have lived together. 

So for what could very well be the last time Art Donaldson looks at Tatum Nichols, he looks at her. Really looks at her. Even when it's so hard to find her face in that crowd of people -- he does. And though he'd be able to spot that smile of hers in a room of a million people, this time, she has her hand raised in the air, and even from afar, he can read that in black sharpie, the writing on the palm of her hand reads I believe in you. 

And he smiles the biggest he has in a long time. In years. 

And for that, when he pulls his eyes away from Tatum's and looks ahead at Patrick once more, although Art's smile changes, Patrick knows what it means. 

And when Art hits that ball in the air, the rest is like history. Or, deja vu. 

Tatum hadn't had the pleasure of watching Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig play damn good tennis in 13 years and now, it was like a movie she couldn't pull her eyes from. 

The ball goes across the court back and forth and Tatum, Tashi, and the audience all share the same reaction as their heads follow it intently -- waiting to see who will win that final point of the entire tournament. 

Patrick's ball just barely makes it past the court's net and Tatum can feel her heart stop for just a mere second before Art runs forward to hit it so low off the ground. 

Nearly falling over himself, Patrick does the same and at this point, they're just inches away from the net -- both getting closer and closer as the anticipation eats at everyone. 

The sound of their shoes squeaking against the court and their grunts as they forcefully push forward to hit the ball, when the ball hits against those rackets and most of all, the sound of Tatum's heart beating in her chest -- it's all like music to her ears. 

But the music stops when they both jump up -- out of room on the court -- and meet at the halfway line. 

It's a beautiful thing, really, for two seconds where Art hangs in the air -- looming over Patrick -- and to think that if he hits that ball too hard, he's lost the game. But if he takes advantage of the fact that Patrick is stunned beneath him and hits it with just the right amount of force, he's won it all. 

He hits it and collapses down onto Patrick, who catches him without hesitation. 

The crowd erupts into cheers and when Tatum looks at where the ball has landed, all she can do is smile. 

THE END

BLAKELY SPEAKS !

stay tuned for an epilogue and my final thoughts and thanks of gratitude 👀