Page 23 of Match Point

“Maybe we’ll meet in the semifinals,” I said.

Dominic shook his head. “I hope we don’t. Your serve always gives me nightmares.”

I hate how humble he is.

“How’s retirement treating you, Miranda?” he asked.

“It’s delightful,” she replied. “Calm and boring, just the way I like it.”

Dominic gave her a half-smile. “I bet you’re getting into all sorts of trouble.”

“If you don’t mind,” my coach cut in, “we’ve got a lot of work to do before Tristan’s match tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Dominic looked back and forth between us. “I didn’t realize this was a working practice. Miranda is…?”

“Consulting on some footwork issues,” my coach replied.

“Ah. Now Ireallyhope we don’t meet in the semis, Tristan.”

From anyone else, it would have been a sarcastic comment. But Dominic always seemed genuine. It annoyed me even more.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Miranda, mind if I pick your brain real quick?”

Dominic gestured and the two of them walked a few meters away. Even though they spoke softly, their voices echoed in the cavernous indoor facility.

“It was great seeing you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Miranda replied.

“You forgot this.” He handed her something small and metallic.

“Crap. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Good luck this afternoon!” she said a little louder, for everyone’s benefit. The two of them parted without any other interaction, aside from Dominic glancing over his shoulder at her. But Miranda was blushing now, and the object was still in her hand. She put it on her wrist and tightened the strap while turning back to me.

“Okay, where were we?” she asked.

My eyes were locked onto her wrist. It was an Apple watch. Which Dominic was discreetly returning to her.

They slept together last night.

Miranda was explaining something to me now, but I didn’t hear the words. All I could feel was the same pain I felt when I was sixteen years old, as fresh as the night it happened. The pain from my oblique now paled in comparison to the twisting knife in my gut.

She stopped talking, so I said, “Let’s get to it, then.”

I turned and walked back to the baseline to practice more, but my backhand was now the last thing on my mind.

10

Miranda

Even though I slept in, I was in the best of moods that morning. Waking up snuggled against a sexy guy would do that to a girl’s mood. Having it be Dominic Freaking deGrom, the guy I had been thinking about since I was a teenager, made it even better. Despite knowing I was running late, I stayed curled up against his body for a long time, watching his bare chest rise and fall with each breath.

It had been so long since I’d had fun like this. Since I had allowed myself tolet loose. I loved that I could do that now, and not worry about how it would affect my on-court performance. I was a little dehydrated, both from the alcohol and from the sweaty fun we’d had, but it didn’t matter. I could chug some electrolytes and go about my day without panicking. The change was refreshing in a way I had never expected when I considered retirement.

After sneaking away, I rushed home, took a quick shower, and changed into my tennis clothes. I had brought along my gear bag as a force of habit, just in case I found an opportunity to play for fun with some of my old competitors. I didn’t think I would use it in acoachingcapacity.

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