Page 4 of The Defender
His brow furrowed. A flash of confusion crossed his face before the groove between his eyes deepened. “Shit.”
My stomach plummeted. “You forgot.”
I should’ve reminded him yesterday, but I’d called out “sick” and missed the Holchester match (though I did watch it online after). He didn’t like texting or talking on the phone, so I relied on our shared work hours to talk to him.
“No. It’s on my calendar. I didn’t forget about dinner, but I forgot to call and tell you we have to postpone.” He looked like he’d rather walk into a den of lions than have this conversation. “Vuk is in town, and he wants to meet tonight to discuss some team business. I tried to get out of it. I couldn’t.”
Vuk Markovic was Blackcastle’s owner. He lived in New York and was pretty hands-off with club operations, but when he was in town, everyone jumped to accommodate him.
“Oh!” I forced a bright smile. “I totally understand. We can take a rain check. No big deal.”
“I’m sorry.” A hint of apology softened my father’s gruff voice. “I meant to tell you sooner, but I got caught up in pre-meeting prep. It was all last minute.”
“It’s okay.” My voice pitched higher on the last syllable, and I blinked back an alarming burn behind my eyes. What waswrongwith me? I couldn’t be tearing up over a postponed dinner when I’d gone through much worse shit without so much as a flinch. “I get it. Really. We’ll have plenty of opportunities for dinner later. Work is more important.” I cleared my throat and waved my phone in the air. “Do you mind if I come in and charge this for a bit though? It’s dead, and I’m waiting for a call from—from someone.”
I almost saidMom, but bringing her up was a sure way to nuke the conversation.
“Go ahead. I have to run, but make yourself at home.” He handed me a wad of cash. “Feel free to order in.”
“Thanks.”
We awkwardly hugged goodbye. Then he was gone, and I was alone in the silence.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.No crying.I didn’t care that no one was around to see it. If I cried over something as stupid as dinner, I’d never forgive myself.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and marched upstairs, where I found a charger in my dad’s office. By the time I plugged my phone in, I’d shoved my wayward emotions into a box where they belonged.
The cash he gave me burned a hole in my pocket, but I wasn’t hungry anymore.
I checked my cell. It’d charged enough to turn on again, but there were no missed calls. San Diego was eight hours behindLondon so it was still early there, but I couldn’t sit around all night waiting for my mom.
I dialed her first instead. As expected, it went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Mom, it’s me. Just wanted to check in since you said you wanted to talk today. Um, you’re probably busy with Harry and Charlie, but give me a call back when you get this.” Harry and Charlie were my stepfather and half-brother, respectively. “Oh, say hi to them for me. ‘Kay, bye.” I hung up and dropped my head back with a groan. “I’msucha loser.”
I was young, hot, and single in London, and my Sunday plans revolved around my parentswho weren’t even here.
“Fuck this.” I sat up straight, my self-pity sharpening into a sudden burst of motivation.
I had friends. I had a life. Why was I wallowing like a grounded teenager?
I checked my phone again. Twenty-five percent charged.Good enough.
I unplugged it and left.
Thirty-five minutes later, I arrived at one of the poshest mansions in London. The white, four-story behemoth occupied a prime lot in the city’s most expensive neighborhood, and no matter how many times I visited, I never quite got over how grandiose it was.
Only the best for world-famous footballer Asher Donovan and his girlfriend, Scarlett DuBois, who also happened to be one of my best friends.
Scarlett and I met right after I moved to London, when she saved me from a potential mugger outside a nightclub. She’dpushed the guy away, I’d clobbered him with my bag, and we’d been thick as thieves ever since.
“Brooklyn!” Her face lit up when she opened the door and saw me. “This is a surprise.”
“I’m so sorry for dropping by unannounced. I hope this isn’t a bad time. Dad bailed on dinner, and you mentioned yesterday you were craving the fruit tarts from that bakery you like, so…” I held up the bakery’s signature pink-striped bag. “I didn’t come empty-handed.”
“It’s not a bad time. You didn’t have to bring a gift—though I’m not going to turn it down—and I’m sorry about dinner.” Scarlett’s voice softened. “I know you were looking forward to it.”
“It is what it is.” I was already intruding on her Sunday; no need for me to trauma dump as well.
I’d flirted with the idea of hitting the pub solo after I left my dad’s house, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with men. I’d much rather be with friends.
