She strode into the complex she had been going to for the past four years. Her regular instructor, Tana, was pretty hard-core, and Liz had even gotten used to Hank, a power tennis player who she’d had her differences with in the past. Either of them would probably laugh her off the court for how out of shape she was.

“Hello! How can I help you?” a cheery redhead asked Liz when she walked inside.

“Is Tana in?”

The girl checked her schedule and then shook her head. “She’s already left for the day.”

“Hank here by any chance?” Liz asked as her second-best option.

“Oh no, he’s out all week on vacation.”

Liz sighed. Great. Guess she would be serving to the net.

“But Easton is here.” The girl’s eyes got big and glassy when she said the name. “He just finished his last lesson of the day. I could ask him if you wanted.” She was already out of her seat before Liz could respond.

“Um . . . who is Easton?”

“He’s our newest instructor. He started in September, but he’s always booked.”

By Ginger’s reaction, Liz could think of only one reason why. “Sure. Easton is fine.”

The girl scurried through a closed door and a minute later she reappeared with a guy who Liz could only assume was Easton. He appeared to be college age, with perfectly tousled dark brown hair and light brown eyes. He was tall and trim and carried himself powerfully. His smile made the redhead receptionist swoon, but Liz just returned it with mild indifference. He was cute, but he wasn’t Brady Maxwell.

“Can I help you?” he asked, leaning forward against the desk and twirling his tennis racquet.

“Tana and Hank are out today. Are you free for an hour?” Liz asked.

He straightened and smiled again. “Sure. Let’s walk,” he said, and then strode toward the courts. He opened the door for Liz and she followed him out. “You’re playing with Tana and Hank, so you can’t be too shabby. How experienced are you?” he asked.

“I’ve been playing my whole life. Very accomplished at hitting balls,” she responded, straight-facedly.

Easton cracked a smile and nodded. “Where have they been hiding you?”

“I’ve been—” Liz cut herself off. She had been about to tell him she was the editor of the paper, but, well, she wasn’t anymore. And anyway, he might not know what had happened with her. It would be nice to be around one person who didn’t know that she’d had an affair with a politician. “I’ve been busy. Haven’t been around as much.”

“Well, let’s get started. Need any pointers?” he asked. “I can show you some good footwork, the right swing, how to move your body.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, no. I just need someone to beat.”

“Then we should probably find you someone else,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

After his first serve, Liz knew she was going to lose pretty handily. Her body protested with every swing, and the worst part was that it was clear that he was holding back to play with her.

“You’re so good,” she admitted when they took a short break. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one, and thanks,” he said, offering her a bottle of water. “You’re really not bad.”

“Ha! You make me look like a joke.”

“You’re just out of shape.”

“Wow.”

“No seriously. If you were out here every day, we’d be more evenly matched.”

“I’m shocked you’re not on the UNC team,” she said.

“Well, I want to go to law school.”

“Oh,” she said flatly. Law school only made her think of Clay and how he was now clerking for the Supreme Court.

“Don’t oh me. I want to be a politician.”

“Oh!” Liz said, shaking her head. Damn, she could not escape her life. “Well, that’s nice.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I really do. Let’s just play.”

And then they were back into the game. This was what she had come here for, after all. She put all of her energy into the athleticism of the sport. Focused on trying to crack through Easton’s advanced passes. She was good, but not that good. Having the added pressure of wanting to beat him made her work twice as hard, and by the time they left the courts, she was breathing heavy and slick with sweat.

“I’m going to fit you into my schedule three times a week. We’ll start off slow, but you should start running laps at least twice a week otherwise. Doctor’s orders,” Easton told her.

“I can’t commit to a training regimen,” she said. “I graduate this semester.”

“I’m going to save some time anyway,” he said as they walked into the air-conditioned lobby. He grabbed something from behind the counter and handed it to her. “Here’s my card. Figure out your schedule and get back to me.”

Liz slipped the card into her bag. Tennis had helped her forget her woes today. It might not hurt to start coming in more often. Maybe then she could think about something other than her failed attempts at living the life of a politician’s girlfriend.

“I’ll think about it,” she said noncommittally. “Thanks for the lesson.”

As soon as she got home, Liz hopped in the shower. She was toweling off her hair when she saw that she had missed Brady’s call. Finishing with her hair, she slipped into sweats and then called him back. She was still frustrated about what had happened earlier, but tennis had improved her mood immensely.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she said softly.

“I called Erin.”

“Oh,” she said, perking up. She hadn’t thought that he would.

“You were right,” he admitted.

“Damn.” She hadn’t really wanted to be. “What did she say?”

“To be honest, after she told me, there was a lot of crying, and then she hung up on me.”

“She did!” Liz cried. “What for?”

“It wasn’t a mutual breakup,” he said stiffly. “She didn’t tell me exactly what she told the paper, but I can only guess that it’s negative from the way she was on the phone. She sounded like a mess.”

Liz stood up and started pacing her room. “What does this mean for us, for you, for the campaign?”