Page 57 of Match Point

“Why are you so upset?” he demanded. “You said we weren’t exclusive. Same for you and Dominic.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you two to get all buddy-buddy.” The waitress arrived, and I ordered a tea. When she was gone, I said, “Do you think we should tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Tristan lowered his voice. “That we’re sleeping together?”

“No, that it’s going to rain tonight,” I said sarcastically.

Tristan gave me an even stare.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m grumpy when I travel overseas. I know this isn’t your fault.”

“I’ve already given this a lot of thought, and I don’t think we should tell him,” Tristan said. “Not yet. We’ve been practicing together the past two days. He’s a good fella. We mesh well together. Telling him now would throw everything out of whack.”

“I get it. But I don’t like keeping secrets.” My tea arrived, and I paused to add sugar and cream.

“You’ve kept it from him this far,” Tristan said carefully.

“Actually, I told Dominic about you already. But I didn’t tell him it was you. I started to, but he told me it doesn’t matter, and that he doesn’t care.”

Tristan nodded. “There you go, then. He doesn’t care.”

“But he would care if he knew it wasyou,” I insisted. “When the tournament is over, I would like to tell him.”

“How about after the US Open?” Tristan suggested. “We’re planning on playing doubles there, too.”

I stared at him.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll tell Dominic about us after Wimbledon. And I’m sorry for not telling you about our doubles partnership sooner. I really was waiting to see if it would be official. And I wanted to tell you in person.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ll stop being mad by tomorrow. Or the day after.”

“How about I make it up to you with a quickie in the bathroom?” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the cafe. “It’s small, and everyone will hear us. But that can be fun, too.”

I laughed, and squeezed his hand under the table. “Let’s get dinner together first. I want to hear all about your doubles strategy.”

27

Gabriel

With a week until the first round of Wimbledon, I had a light schedule. Cardio in the mornings, followed by a short practice with my coach. My afternoons were completely free. Today, I went to see a matinée of the Barbie movie. I did not understand many of the jokes, but Margot Robbie was a pleasure to watch.

She looked nothing like Miranda Jacobs, but I found myself thinking of the former tennis star while I watched the movie. This was not unusual. Miranda was on my mind quite often lately.

She is more beautiful than Margot Robbie, I thought as I left the theater with the other patrons.She is also quite real.

When I un-silenced my phone, I saw—with delight—that I had a text from the woman. I replied to her while walking back to the tube station.

Miranda: Do you think this many flowers is going to work?

Me: You are quite right. I do not know what I was thinking. I am sorry for the unforced error.

Miranda: Good.

Me: Next time, I will send twice as many flowers. And chocolates as well.

Miranda: That isn’t what I meant.

Me: What is it that you meant, my dear Miranda?

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