Page 122 of Sweeper
“I think it was good I did it on my own.” Zander’s eyes look hopeful in the darkness as he gazes back at me. “But I’d love if you came with me tomorrow to Sunday dinner.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” I lean in and kiss him again because it’s impossible not to. “I think you’re very brave.”
“I think you’re very brave,” Zander murmurs, nuzzling my neck. “Going to a soccer match with my mom last week without telling me. I’d swear you have balls of steel if I hadn’t just been down there a few minutes ago and gave it a full inspection.”
“Don’t be vile,” I say, laughing and shoving him away. He pulls me in closer, and it feels so delicious, it’s hard to stay focused. “Your mum was nice. I liked meeting her, even under less than stellar circumstances.”
“Well, you certainly made a good impression,” Zander remarks, tucking his face into my neck and inhaling deeply. “Now I’ll have to do the same with your parents.”
“Oh?” I ask, my brows furrowed as I stare down at Zander, who’s burrowing into my neck too much to see if he’s having me on. “You want to meet my parents?”
“Well yeah.” He peppers kisses along my shoulder like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing in the world. “I mean, I clearly already won over your brother. Now I just better hit the rest of the Clarke family with my dazzling charm so you can never get rid of me.”
My heart positively sings with all this future talk. I know Zander said he loved me but asking to meet my parents is another matter altogether.
“I could probably arrange something,” I squeak out, trying to sound aloof.
“Maybe you can bring them to one of my games,” he says, rubbing small circles on my hips. “I want you at more of my games. And if that means I must attend your music gigs, that’s a price I’m very happy to pay.”
“What music gigs?” I bark, gripping his hair to force him to look at me.
He winces at the tight tug on his strands, but the smile on his face is undeniable. “Well, you’re not going to be able to sell your music to a record company if you don’t start playing it again.”
“And what makes you think I even want to sell my music anymore?” I narrow my eyes on him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he pulls me in close for a soft, sultry kiss. “You’ve got a hit song about me just waiting to be discovered. Plus, after all you did to help me with my mom, it’s my turn to help your dreams come true.”
Zander
A Few Months Later
Roan boots a goal into the net just as the referee was about to blow his whistle to send the game into extra time. I drop to my knees in awe, looking up at the scoreboard in disbelief. Bethnal Green one, Chelsea zero. I can’t believe we just fucking won.
My eyes swerve to the stands for Daphney, but I’m immediately distracted when something pummels me in the back.
“We fucking did it!” Booker cries as he crushes me into a tackle hug on the ground. “We just won the fucking Cup!” Booker laughs at me from his position on the ground as he grabs my face in his gloved hands and pulls my head close to plant a sloppy kiss on my forehead. “We did it, bruv!”
The nickname of bruv is British slang for brother, and it’s what all four of the Harris Brothers have taken to calling me the past couple of months. I hear it at every Sunday dinner, on the pitch, on the various double dates Daphney and I have gone on with the siblings and their spouses. It’s even been picked up by the media now that the truth of my connection to the family has been released to the public.
It feels good.
Vaughn let me decide if we were going to tell the press about my relation to him. He said if I never wanted anyone to know, he would understand. But I knew hiding it put us at risk of them finding out anyways. Then it would look as though I was a dirty little secret and the headlines would be ugly.
And really, why did I care if the press knew or not? Just because I share DNA with Vaughn Harris doesn’t make my dad less of my dad. The fact that I’m related to the Harris family just means my inner circle has grown. And after a couple of months, I realized that the Harrises have this uncanny way of bringing people into their world with very little effort. They feel like that old friend from childhood that you never talk to but when you run into each other, it’s like no time has passed. It’s weird, but comforting. It was that comfort that gave me the courage to release a statement.
The media accepted the news far more positively than I ever expected. Jude had given me horror stories of the British newspapers but it seems like since the Harris Brothers have all settled down and started families, the press is much kinder to them. I guess I was gifted that kindness by default and I will do my best to not take it for granted.
Booker takes off down the field to celebrate with the rest of the team as I stand back up and jog over to the sidelines. My eyes find Daphney’s. She’s sitting next to my mother who flew out yesterday to catch the final. Both of their arms are raised as they cheer me on and as I make a beeline toward them, I’m shoved off to the side by yet another brother.
“Fucking aces of a game, bruv!” Tanner yells, following his shove up with an aggressive hug. “Jesus Christ, I have a stiffy that could cut glass!”
He gestures lewdly to his groin as I laugh and shake my head. “Good luck with that.”
He waggles his eyebrows playfully and jogs onto the field, allowing me to continue my pursuit of the woman in the front row. My eyeline is impeded by Vaughn Harris next. He has tears in his eyes as he holds his arms out wide to me.
I embrace him happily, knowing this is a big day for him. He’s been saying at nearly every Sunday dinner that if we win the FA Cup, he’s finally going to retire, and he means it this time. I’m sure this is an emotional moment for him, knowing that his life is about to change.
“Your dad would have been so proud,” Vaughn says, cupping the back of my head.
