I open my mouth to answer, but I don’t know what to say. Under my management, SCM is now the top media company in the country, top five in the world. During my time as CEO, we’ve acquired hundreds of millions of dollars in assets. My company, the company my father started forty years ago, is now worth billions. Chloe’s question strikes a chord. When is it enough? When have I reached my goal? I’ve been working non-stop for seven years, killing myself to reach a goal that’s a moving target. There’s no end. Everything has become so much of a habit that I haven’t been paying attention to the reason anymore.

I watch Chloe slather a cracker with goat cheese then top it with prosciutto. It's another realization that makes me feel worse about the situation with Chloe. I try to push it out of my mind.

“You like to talk,” I say.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an observation. I have them as well.”

“What is your observation?”

“That the ping pong table is open and we should play.”

“Ping pong.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “What is with you and racquet sports?”

“I have excellent hand-eye coordination, agility and endurance.”

“You’re humble, too.” Chloe laughs.

I lead us to the ping pong table on the lawn, across from the seating area. There are other lawn games, bean bags, horseshoes, bocce ball, and a large chess board with two-foot-high chess pieces.

I lift the wine glass in my hand. “This will be my handicap.”

“If that’s the case, it’s mine, too.” She takes a sip of her wine.

“No, I’ll hold the glass with one hand. You can put yours down.”

“Oh,” she says, setting her wine glass on a nearby table. “All right, I’m ready.”

I serve. The ball bounces on the opposite side and right past Chloe.

“Maybe they have a puzzle we could do instead? I’m great at puzzles.”

“You can do it. You need to keep your eye on the ball,” I say.

“Eyes on balls. I should be good at that.” Chloe laughs.

I move to her side of the table.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your stroke.”

I move behind her, placing my hand over hers on the ping pong paddle. My chest presses into her back. She smells so good. Fuck. This was a bad idea.

“What were you saying about stroking?” she asks, the wine clearly making Chloe more relaxed. My brain immediately returning to this morning when she walked in on me in the shower.