Page 95 of Match Point

“Good. Then I’llreallyenjoy my last pint before the tournament.” He took a long pull from it. “Cheers.”

“To a successful US Open,” I toasted, and we all touched glasses.

“How do you feel about being the number four seed?” I asked. “It’s higher seeding than anyone expected of you.”

Tristan shrugged. “Not worried about it.”

“It means you’ll have to face Gabriel in the semifinals, if you both get that far.”

“Not worried about it. Just happy to be here. My eyes are on Melbourne. This is just a warm-up. Of course, I’d be happy to win. Even if it means going through him, then you.” He playfully elbowed Dominic.

“Has a team of doubles partners ever had to face each other in singles before?” Dominic wondered out loud.

“Pretty sure Venus and Serena did a few times.”

“Let’s not go counting chickens and whatnot,” Tristan said, clapping Dominic on the back. “One match at a time. Right, Miranda?”

“I like your attitude,” I said with a nod.

“Moreau has a stacked half of the bracket,” Dominic said. “Probably the toughest road any top seed has had in years. If he completes the calendar grand slam, he’ll have earned it.”

“I will have earned it either way,” Gabriel suddenly said, approaching from behind Tristan. He had a glass of red wine in his hand, the color of which matched the pocket square in his jacket.

“There he is,” Dominic said cautiously. “We were just talking about your end of the bracket. And how strong it is.”

Gabriel smiled smugly. “This is funny to me. I looked at my bracket and was disappointed with how easy it appeared.” His accent was crisp tonight.

Tristan stiffened, but his words were still kind. “You’ve made every match this year look easy. Quite a run.”

“Hate to see it end here,” Dominic added.

Gabriel’s smile broadened. “I hope the two of you will try your best. I do not want anyone claiming my opponents were suffering oblique injuries when I lift the trophy in two weeks.”

A dark expression fell over Tristan’s face, but he said nothing.

“You’ve come a long way since we were all at the Academy,” Dominic said.

Careful, I thought, shooting him a warning look.

“You were the smallest one there,” Dominic continued. “We all thought you were three or four years younger. You could barely see above the net when volleying.”

The tension in the air was thick. It was like watching two trains speeding toward each other on the same track, and not being able to do anything about it. Tristan met my gaze across from them, a worried look in his eyes.

“But you proved us all wrong,” Dominic finally said. “You were the hardest worker at the Academy. I’ve never seen someone scramble around the court so much. You hated losing points. Even when it didn’t matter, you refused to give up. I respect that.” He raised his glass. “To a good tournament, Moreau.”

Gabriel had fire in his eyes, but he raised his glass. “To a good tournament, deGrom. And Carfrae.”

We all took a sip of our drinks. To the side, a photographer was circling us, getting photos of the three men and me together.

Gabriel let out a happy sigh. “It is funny, all three of us being here now.”

“The three of us from the same Academy?” Dominic asked.

“Miranda’s three lovers,” Gabriel said, so soft that nobody outside our circle could hear. “It is good that we can all compete for her affection without malice. We can be calm and social about it, yes?”

Dominic was still smiling, but his jaw clenched.This is close to getting out of hand.

Tristan put an arm around Dominic’s neck. “We’re best mates, now. Onandoff the court.” He cut his eyes over to me to show what he meant. “You’re the odd boy out.”

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