Page 78 of Match Point

Miranda grunted. “I assumed you were taking me out somewhere.”

“This is out somewhere,” I replied, gesturing all around us.

“I meant a restaurant.”

“Restaurants contain people, and people have eyes and mouths, which they use to see and talk,” I explained. “Here, we have privacy.”

“Unless someone shows up and kicks us out, like at the Louvre.”

“I can assure you that will not happen this time.” I took the bag from Anton. “Thank you. If you would be so kind as to turn the lights off, and then we will have no other need of you this evening.”

He dipped his head and hurried away.

“So what fancy dinner have you prepared for me?” Miranda asked excitedly. “I said I was starving earlier, but now I’mlegitimatelystarving. Like, I might need a fainting couch if I don’t get some food soon.”

“I have chosen my favorite meal for this evening.”

“Ohh, a favorite meal. Was it something your mom used to make?”

The mention of my mom made my body go tense. I forced myself to relax as I put the bag down on the bench by the umpire’s chair and pulled out two to-go containers. “My mother could not make something this delicious. Bacon cheeseburgers and fries.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me right now?”

My heart sank. “I thought…”

“This isexactlywhat I was craving!” she said, snatching the first container out of my hand. She let out a high-pitched squeak when she popped it open and saw the contents. “It’s the thin crispy fries too!”

“There is a restaurant I visit every year when I am here for the tournament. I am quite fond of their food.”

I spread a blanket out on the ground next to the net and we sat down for a picnic. After the first bite, the massive stadium lights shut off with a loudKA-CHUNK,bathing us in darkness. But after a few seconds, our eyes began to adjust.

“I was afraid you were going to take me somewhere fancy, where they bring ten servings of tiny portions out,” Miranda said with her mouth full. “I never ate cheeseburgers when I was on the tour, but I’ve fallen in love with them since retiring.”

“I know. You said so when you were on Good Morning America after retiring.”

She shot me an accusatory glare. “Stalker.”

“I am guilty of being a Miranda Jacobs fan, this is true.” I bit into my burger, which was comprised of two thin patties, American cheese, bacon, and a sauce that was a mixture of mustard and ketchup. “America has the best food in the world. But you must never tell anyone I said this. My people would send me to the guillotine for such blasphemy.”

“Or burn you at the stake like Joan of Arc.”

“Both,” I said around a mouthful of beef. “They would burn me at the stake, andthencut the head off my charred body.”

“Normally that kind of talk would ruin my appetite, but this burger is too good for that.” She picked up a handful of fries in her fingertips and bit into them. “So a Frenchman admits that America has the best food.”

“A fact which you must never repeat.”

“I’m glad I have leverage over you,” she teased. “You’re mine, now.”

“J’ai toujours été,” I said softly.I always was.

Miranda’s hair shifted as she cocked her head. “What’s that mean?”

“It means please do not abuse this power,” I replied.

“I promise not to. Maybe.” She wiped mustard away with the back of her hand. “If you behave.”

“What an insulting thing to say!” I declared. “All of my professional career, I have never said anything rude or inflammatory.”

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