Page 116 of Summer After Summer

“That’s nice of you.”

“Lucy shouldn’t drive too long to get to a bed.”

“No, you’re right.”

“It isn’t your fault, Olivia.”

“I know.”

“Why so glum, then? She’s going to be okay.”

“Just a long day.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me. And he’s right. I am feeling glum. Down, like a deflated balloon. I’m not sure what it is, exactly. Only the way Fred had looked at Lucy when he had her in his lap earlier on the beach—that wasn’t the casual thing I’d assumed it to be between them. There was real pain there, the pain of potential loss, and I didn’t like how that felt.

Did that mean I wasn’t over Fred, or just that I didn’t want him to be with someone else?

Was there a difference?

It didn’t matter. What I’d said to James on the beach earlier was true. Fred and I didn’t belong together. What more proof do I need than the fact that we couldn’t make it despite numerous chances?

Only a hopeless romantic would think that there was still a place for us after everything we’d been through.

And I’ve never been that.

CHAPTER THIRTY

June 2013

Back at my apartment after I leave the Wimbledon grounds, following my defeat, I prepare carefully for my dinner with Fred.

We’d made plans to meet at six, to give me time to shower and change and stretch and get in the right mind frame for whatever is about to happen.

I can’t believe it. It feels like I’m caught in a fairy tale, one where the fairy godmother grants one wish, but a different one comes true. Those ten minutes in the hallway changed everything. Fred holding me, kissing my neck, telling me that this is what he wanted, this is what he planned for. In the moment, it felt wonderful, but now I have some questions.

But first, I reach into my jewelry box and pull out his bracelet. It’s the one thing I always travel with, thinking, maybe, that I’ll find something to add to it, to make it mine instead of ours. I’ve never managed to, though, so all I have on it are the charms Fred has given me: the tennis bracelet, the one from London, and our engagement ring. I touch the small stone, then catch myself in the mirror. My heart is skipping around, and I have trouble fastening the clasp. I manage it, then run a brush through my hair.

“You’re going out?” Matt says when I leave the bathroom.

“Yes.”

“With Fred.”

“Yes, Dad.”

He frowns. “I thought you weren’t talking.”

“We weren’t.”

“And now?”

“I’m going to drown my sorrows in a million drinks and a nice man.”

“Not so nice.”

“Matt.” I put my arms around his neck. “You don’t mean that.”

“What about your training?”

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