Page 163 of Summer After Summer

“Don’t quit now …”

“Oh right.”

The doorbell rings. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’d better get that.”

“Tell Matt we’ll have dinner with him.”

“Yes, okay.”

I hurry out of the bedroom to the front door trying too hard to breathe. I open it halfway. It’s Fred in a polo shirt and a rain slicker, holding flowers, his face full of promise, his hair wet from the rain.

“You didn’t get my text?”

“No. What happened?”

“I can’t explain right now, but you have to go.”

“At least let the man in,” Wes says from across the room. “Poor Matt.”

Fred’s eyes widen as my face turns crimson.

“It’s not Matt,” I say loudly. “It’s my old friend, Fred. This is very nice of you, Fred.”

I step forward and take the flowers, then step back into the apartment and let the door fall open.

Wes appears at my side, still in his towel, shirtless.

“Fred, this is Wes Taylor, my boyfriend.”

“Fiancée,” Wes says, then extends his hand to Fred, who takes it after the briefest of hesitations and shakes it slowly. “We’ve met a few times in New York over the years. You’re a member of Albright’s, right?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

Wes’s jaw tightens. “I was a guest of Dell’s?”

“Ah, yes … Did you say Taylor?”

“That’s right.”

“Funny about the name.”

Wes laughs. “Well, technically, I’m Olivia’s third cousin.”

“Second cousin once removed,” I say automatically, because it’s what we tell people to tease them.

“Oh, ah …”

“We’re joking,” Wes says. “It’s just a coincidence.

Fred’s forehead crinkles, then clears. “You dated Charlotte?”

“That’s me. And that was a long time ago. Olivia and I reconnected this spring, and—well, one thing led to another.”

“I see.” Fred rocks back on his heels. “Well, I wanted to congratulate Olivia on her amazing run in Wimbledon. And on her retirement too, of course.”

“In the rain?”

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