Page 82 of Match Point

“I am trying not to think about this thing,” he replied. “As opposed to you, Miranda Jacobs, who I am trying to think about very much.”

We kissed in front of my door, a kiss that went on and on because neither of us wanted it to end. But like all good things, eventually itdidend, and Gabriel picked up his bag.

“Au revoir, Miranda,” he said sadly.

“Goodbye, Gabriel.”

And then he was gone.

40

Miranda

I was even more bored with retirement life after Gabriel left. I tried to fall into a routine, going for a jog every morning, but that barely bought me enough time until lunch. I played tennis with my friend again, but then she was flying out west to visit her family in Colorado.

Hamilton, my agent, came over a few days later. He had a publishing agent with him from Random House; they wanted me to write an autobiography. “We will hire a ghost writer to assist, of course,” she said.

“Of course,” I replied, although I didn’t know how these things worked.

Once she was gone, I told Hammy, “I don’t want to write a book.”

He scratched at his prosthetic eye and grimaced. “You won’t have to. The ghost writer will do all the work. That’s how these things happen.”

“But I don’t have much of a story to tell. I hate how every athlete or celebrity has to put out a book now. My story isn’t very exciting. Like most tennis players, I came up at a prestigious academy, broke into the professional circuit, and then had a solid career.”

“You’re better than most players,” he pointed out.

“But not to the point that I have an interesting story.”

“There are plenty of angles we could take with the book. Going out on top is rare; we can lean into that. And it’s good money.Verygood money.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You don’t have to make a decision now. Just think it over.” He sat on the couch across from me. “I have some other housekeeping items to discuss. I’ve been contacted by the Loyola Marymount Tennis Academy in Los Angeles. They’re interested in hiring you.”

“As an instructor? Pass.”

“I think you would be quite good at it.”

“I’m also quite good at knitting because my grandma taught me when I was six, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

Hammy grumbled something under his breath and scrolled onto the next item on his tablet. “The Survivor executives want to know how you feel about an all-star season. Either next year, or the year after that.”

“I’m not an all-star. I was voted off five days before the end.”

“Yes, but you’re a bigger name than those who lasted longer, and apparently your ratings were higher.”

I had enjoyed my experience with Survivor, but I had always considered it a one-time thing. Now that I had done it, I had no interest in going back. “Tell them I’ll think about it.”

Hammy grunted something. “Next is NBC. They’re asking again about a long-term contract.”

“I still haven’t decided.”

“Yes, which is why they’re prodding you. Except they’re not proddingyou, they’re proddingme. And I’m running out of excuses to give them. They want an answer.”

“I’ll make a decision after the US Open.”

“That might not be a good idea,” Hammy said slowly. “There are six more women who may retire after the tournament. Seven if the rumors about Navarro are true. NBC may get sick of waiting around for you and decide to test one of them out in the booth.”

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