Page 9 of Match Point

They wandered off to chat with some other players, with Tristan glancing over his shoulder at me once.

The butterflies remained in my stomach after the conversation, even while I was mingling with some of the other female players at the welcome dinner. Everyone was really friendly to me now that I was no longer their competition.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong here anymore.

I finished my wine and said goodbye to the women I was talking with, then turned to go find Hamilton. Before I could, someone touched me lightly on the arm.

“Miranda?”

I turned toward the last person I expected to speak to me.

Dominic deGrom.

5

Miranda

Although I had watched him on television plenty of times, and had been in the stands for a few of his matches, it had been fourteen years since I last saw Dominic deGrom up close like this. When he was a teenager, he looked like a man fully grown, and the years didn’t appear to have changed him much. Tall and confident, he moved with an ease that suggested a familiarity with attention, yet it was his genuine demeanor that drew me in. His dark hair was tousled in just the right way, lending a touch of rugged charm to his otherwise polished appearance. The soft chandelier light on his features revealed a chiseled jawline that seemed carved by an artist’s hand.

As our eyes locked, the world of tennis around us faded away. His eyes, a rich shade of green, held a depth that spoke of experiences and stories yet untold. It was a gaze that seemed to invite me to explore the mysteries of fourteen years hidden beneath the surface.

I felt my cheeks grow hot as I realized I had been caught in the act of admiration, but the brief embarrassment was overshadowed by the thrill of this chance encounter. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a passing encounter; it was the spark of something yet to unfold—an encounter that had left an indelible mark on my heart. In that instant, I felt a magnetic pull, a desire to bridge the distance that separated us and discover the man that he had become since the last time we had spoken.

I never saw him in a suit at the Academy, I thought while trying to work moisture into my mouth.He looks like he was born to wear one.

“Dominic,” I said. The butterflies in my stomach turned into a flock of pigeons. “It’s been…”

“A long time,” he said with a chuckle. “I was hoping to run into you. Drink?” He was holding two highball glasses filled with some sort of mixed drink, and held one out to me.

“I’m good,” I said. “I was actually just leaving…”

“Aw, come on,” he said. Warm, not pushy. “I had the bartender make this especially for you. It took some convincing, and a twenty dollar bribe. Australian dollars. I don’t know if that’s more or less than the American kind.”

I accepted the glass and gave it a suspicious sniff. “What is it?”

“Try it first.”

“Girls are taught not to accept strange drinks from men they barely know,” I pointed out. When Dominic’s eyes widened, I quickly added, “I’m joking. I know you’re not drugging me.”

I took a sip. The drink was bubbly and had a refreshing pucker to it. “Mmm. What is that?”

“Vodka lemon spritz,” he explained proudly. “It was the closest thing to a Mike’s Hard Lemonade that the bartender could make.”

“Why would I want a Mike’s…” I trailed off. “That night at the party. I was drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade! You remembered after all these years?”

He shrugged and sipped his own drink. “How could I not? I meant to buy you one at the Wimbledon welcome dinner three years ago, but I think you went to bed early that night. I bet it’s nice to finally be able to drink, now that you’re retired.”

“It really, really is.” I nodded at his glass. “You’re drinking, though.”

“I always have one drink at the welcome dinner for good luck,” he replied. “But you were famous for your strict diet. No alcohol for a month leading up to a major. All-natural meals, high in protein. No dairy, no processed foods. Nothing with added sugar.”

“I didn’t getreallystrict with my diet until 2018,” I said.

“That’s still a long time to go without having sugar,” he pointed out.

I sighed happily. “I had my first slice of cake two weeks ago. Has food gotten better in the last four years, or is it my imagination?”

“To the starving man,” Dominic said, “a loaf of bread is a feast.”

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