Page 124 of Sweeper
He had to have been in a very dark place to call Santino and request a team transfer and then ask my brother to break his lease agreement. All this while he was having an incredible season with Bethnal Green. I hate that I put Zander through all of that pain by not just forgiving him right away, but I guess we had to have some bumps in the road to find ourselves on the right path in the end.
Honestly, the past few months of going to Sunday dinners at Vaughn’s house with Zander feels as if he was always a part of that family. He fits in so easily with everyone, and they’ve wasted no time bringing him into different portions of their lives. He’s even volunteering at several of Gareth’s youth football camps this summer. If it weren’t for Zander’s American accent, I’d have thought he really did grow up with the Harris Brothers.
My brothers have even become rather matey with Zander. It helped that he came home to Essex with me a month ago for my niece Marisa’s birthday and gave both her and Rocky tickets to seeThe Lion King. The bonus present was that it would be Zander and me taking the girls to the musical in the West End, giving Mummy and Daddy a proper night off. It was a genius idea on Zander’s part. If ever there was a way to win over my two brothers, that was it.
My ovaries practically did the salsa when I saw Zander holding the hands of my little nieces as we walked into the theater. He was wearing a suit, and the girls were wearing matching dresses that my sister-in-law Leslie made. I hate to be “that girl,” but it was impossible not to imagine having babies with the man after I saw him wipe away a tear during the “Circle of Life.” My niece Marisa caught him crying, and they argued about whether it was dust or not.
Ovaries, uterus, vagina…all my lady parts were dancing.
Zander sighs a contented sigh in my ear before saying, “I was thinking it might be fun to do a quick trip to Boston before the preseason training starts.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you can manage the time off now that you’re not working at Old George anymore, right?” His arms appear from beneath the bubbles as he wraps them around my shoulders and kisses my temple.
I purse my lips together. “I still do have to work, you know. Those jingles don’t sell themselves.”
“Oh, I know,” Zander says, smoothing bubbles up over my chest, just grazing the swells of my breasts. “But you’ve sold two jingles in the past two months. Surely, you deserve to be rewarded for your hard work.”
“What do you think this trip is?” I ask, gesturing to our quaint little getaway.
Zander huffs a displeased noise in my ear. “A train ride for a weekend getaway isn’t a real getaway.”
“Well then, let’s go home if this means so little to you.” I make a move to get out of the tub, and Zander growls into my ear as he tightens his grip on me.
“First of all…I love when you call our place home so you’re not even arguing with me very well right now.”
I roll my eyes.
“Second of all, is it really that awful of a request for me to want to take you back to Boston and show you off a bit?”
“No, it’s not awful,” I reply, biting my lip excitedly.
The truth is, I’d love to go home with him, but I still feel a bit weird letting him pay for me. Zander makes a lot more money than I do, and since quitting Old George to focus more on my music, I feel the pressure to be successful. It’s why I keep saying yes to the jingle projects. It gives me a safety net while I book some gigs at various pubs that donotpay well, at all.
Trying to sell my music is not an easy career path. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s brought me back to life in so many ways. Last weekend, I played at a club in Soho, and Zander, my brothers, their wives, and the entire Harris crew were out in the audience, cheering me on. It was thrilling, and the club was packed. I may not have been discovered by any big record company, but I was reclaiming my music to the universe, just as Zander encouraged me to. That alone was worth more than any record deal. Nearly.
“So, what would we do in Boston?” I ask, tucking away my pride because when your boyfriend wants to take you to the home he grew up in, you just have to say yes.
“Well, the first thing I want to do is show you around Boston College so we can have sex on the field I got my first big break on.” His voice sounds boyish, naughty, and sexy all at the same time.
“Oh, how exciting,” I exclaim, my voice rising in pitch. “So, I can be one of the many girls you shagged when you were there being a footy manwhore. Do I get my own patch of grass or do you use the same patch for everyone?”
“Sweetheart,” Zander says, biting my earlobe. “I only bring marriage material girls on my sacred Boston College soccer field.”
Water sloshes onto the tile floor as I swirl around to face him. I stare up into his eyes, my brows in a deep scowl to see if he’s winding me up. “Are you saying I’m marriage material, Soccer Boy?”
His eyes grow tender as he reaches out and wipes a splotch of bubbles off my cheek. “Isn’t it obvious, Duckmeister?”
I roll my eyes and smile. “I can never tell when you’re serious or just having a go.”
He brings his finger to my chin and touches my dimple that I’m certain is on full display. “You know damn well I’m being serious.”
I inhale a sharp breath, my naked body erupting in goose bumps over his as I gaze into those beautiful hazel eyes.Damn him, he is serious.
I swallow down the gleeful knot in my throat as I calmly reply, “So that’s where our relationship is at now? We’re going to start talking about marriage?”
He shrugs. “First I thought you could move in with me, officially.”
