Florence Bonsee was focused on Wimbledon and her budding tennis career. What she least expected was Charles Leclerc colliding into her life and the impact they would have on one another.
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Tennis network: Bonsee with a quiet box and early exit at the French Open.
FLORENCE'S POV:
When I got dropped off to my place in Monaco, I stared at the entrance of my building. I was itching to be back in the comfort of my own place, but there was a surprising decision made.
Instead of being helped to my room, Nicholas helped me load my luggage from Paris into my car instead. I was on a direct route to Trieste, Italy.
France was a bust losing in the second round. I hadn't been training with my dad and he didn't come at my request. The only people there for me were Daniel and Hannah. The whole week felt off going into the tournament, so I wasn't surprised by the result. I was disappointed in myself, my play, and my stubbornness.
That's why the only thing on my mind was finally seeing my dad and no time seemed better than immediately.
There was a moment of doubt while I stood at the front door of my childhood home. Everything I practiced saying in the car seemed to slip away from memory. This was the most daunting moment of my life. I hadn't seen my dad in months, easily the longest time away in our lives. There was no way of knowing how today was going to go, but to me it couldn't get any worse. There was also no way of knowing if he was even home.
My hand knocked against the door before I could change my mind. I shifted my weight awkwardly while I waited, but I did find out my dad was home quickly as the door swung open much faster than expected. Then I was pleasantly surprised when a smiled emerged on his face.
"Meglio tardi che mai [better late than never]."
"You expected me," I said surprised.
"You and you're English," he rolled his eyes. "I did, maybe a few hours from now though."
"Well I'm here, and I'm sorry," I said in front of him feeling every emotion ripping at me. Tears were swelling in my eyes. Everything I had planned to say slipped away to that one statement.
My dad shook his head and pulled me into an embrace. "Ah Florence, you have nothing to be sorry for," he said into my ear. "If anything I do."
"Can we agree to both be sorry?"
"Sure thing kiddo. Come on in," he smiled while releasing me from the embrace. "Let's talk over some wine. I'm sure you need it." ~ Home felt wonderful as I looked around the rooms and taking in the familiar scent. It had been far too long. My dad opened up the balcony where I joined him. He handed me the wine and I settled in a chair enjoying the spring air.
"Tough week in France, no?"
"Extremely. Nothing was clicking physically or mentally," I replied. "You watch?"
"Of course I watched. You're back hand wasn't clicking either. You were much to shy with your attacking game too," he added which made me roll my eyes in amusement.
