Page 149 of Summer After Summer

Before I leave, Wes and I have an engagement party. Charlotte and Sophie, William and Ash, Aunt Tracy and Colin and Lucy all attend. Matt is there too. Everyone I’ve ever known in the Hamptons it feels like—all the partygoers, the cocktail drinkers. The adults who patted me on the head and sometimes cheered for me from the sidelines at the club.

Charlotte is an ice queen, still pissed that I’m dating Wes, angry that my father is accepting of him when he chased him away when she and he dated. Sophie laughs at her, and Colin teases me about the last name, demanding to see the family tree to make sure we aren’t related. Ash is glowing and happy, her first baby delivered, and taking credit for all of it. She still can’t drink because she’s breastfeeding, but there are drinks in her future, she says, and that’s enough. And then she takes a sip from my glass and says, “I’m so bad,” and we giggle like schoolgirls.

I feel alive, happy. I’m deep into my training for Wimbledon, but that night I’m free to do what I want, eat what I want, drink what I want. One last hurrah before it all turns serious again. One last night of stored memories to shore up against the press coverage I’m sure is coming, whether I want it or not.

I haven’t googled Fred. If he’s still in London, I don’t want to know, because this isn’t about him. It’s about me.

We stay late and Wes stays over at Taylor House. I sneak into his guest room because my father still insists on separate rooms, and we make love and fall asleep. My flight is at night, so we have the morning to laze away, the day to finish packing and then drive into the city, to the airport. We do all of this lightly—I’ll be gone for a month, but when I get home, we’ll get married out on the lawn, with these same people throwing rice and cheering for our future.

Married. It’s a big word, one that Ash lectured me about the night before.

“This is serious, Olivia,” Ash said after she took a second sip of my drink; then said, “No more,” like she was banishing it.

“I know.”

“But you’re going to London.”

“I’m going to Wimbledon. For a tournament. Because it’s my job.”

“Isn’t it dangerous, being there again?”

“I don’t even know if he lives there anymore.”

“He does.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have a Google Alert set to his name.”

“What?”

She lifted her thin shoulders. “I need to keep tabs on him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s your asteroid, Olivia, hurtling toward you. Keeping track of it makes sense.”

“I prefer to remain in ignorance about the end of the world.”

“Yeah, well, he’s single.”

I wasn’t expecting to hear that, and I can’t deny it. I feel the impact. “How do you know for sure?”

She lifts her chin. “I’m strong in the ways of Google.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not going to see him?”

“Of course not.”

“Olivia …”

“Why does everyone always say my name like that? Like a warning?”

Ash laughed and hugged me. “Because you’re a danger to yourself.”

“I’m not going to see him.”

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