Page 130 of Summer After Summer

“Aren’t you supposed to start with the sandwiches?”

“Who says?” I lift my glass of champagne and chase the dessert down. It’s delicious too, and I could live like this forever.

“Who’s imposing these terrible diets on you?”

“Matt. Me.”

“Is it worth it?”

I take one of the sandwiches off the tier. “Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Before this, I’m not sure I’d say it was. Before this year, I mean.”

“And now?”

“I made it into the third round at Wimbledon. I paid for my whole year with those matches.”

“That’s great.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up, though.”

Fred fiddles with his teacup. “You’d give it up?”

“I have to at some point.”

“Do you still love it?”

“I do. Most days, anyway.”

I drink some more champagne and eat the sandwich. It’s smoked salmon, and like everything, it’s incredible. It’s funny, but I don’t usually think in superlatives. Not in my ordinary life. But here, with Fred, that’s always how things seem to be. Strewn with exclamation marks.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you love what you’re doing?”

“I do, yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“What will you do when you finish tennis?”

“Coach maybe.”

“And continue traveling all over the world?”

I shrug. “I haven’t given it much thought. It might be nice to put down some roots somewhere.”

“Do you like London?”

I reach across the table and put my hand on his. “Why do I feel like I’m in a job interview?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

He fiddles with his spoon. “It’s a bad habit I’m trying to get myself out of.”

“What’s that?”

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