Page 56 of Sweeper
She barks out an unamused laugh and sits back, arms crossed over her chest. “What does this mean?” She points between Daphney and me with an angry look on her face, then leans forward and lowers her voice. “It obviously means you shagged him again, but what else does it mean? I mean, shagging is one thing. Shagging and brunch is an entirely different matter.”
I can’t help but laugh because she’s talking like I’m not even here.
Daphney lifts her menu to her face, ignoring her friend. “Do they do a nice eggs Benedict here?”
Phoebe slides her eyes over to me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
My brows lift. “I’m just here for the food and fellowship.”
“Mm-hmm.” Phoebe reaches out and grabs her champagne flute, sipping her mimosa with a skeptical brow.
Following Daphney’s lead, I look over my own menu and decide to order two entrees instead of one. This hot seat has really worked up my appetite.
The server arrives and takes our orders, and as soon as he’s gone, Phoebe scoffs. “I knew you could never pull off a one-night stand.”
Daphney’s face flames red as she shoots daggers at her friend. “Phoebe!”
“Was that the original plan?” I huff out a laugh and glance over at Daphney to find her fidgeting with her cloth napkin.
“I don’t know,” Daphney snaps. Her nostrils flare as she sputters, “I tried to set some rules, but you wouldn’t let me, if you recall.”
Phoebe shakes her head. “So, what now? Are you two dating?”
Daphney chokes on her water, and I reach over to pat her on the back, letting my fingers linger on her bare shoulder that’s peeking out from her sweater. She shivers beneath my touch, and I can’t help but smile at her. She’s cute when she’s flustered.
When she catches her breath again, she pins her friend with a harsh look. “We’re just having fun.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Phoebe says flatly, not breaking eye contact with me as the server sets a coffee in front of me and an orange juice in front of Daphney.
We all take fortifying sips, and Phoebe launches right back into me. “What’s your deal, Zander Williams? What’s your damage?”
“Damage?” I ask, shaking some Splenda into my mug.
“Background, baggage…let’s air out your dirty laundry so I can make sure that my mate is safe in your apparently very ‘fun’ hands.”
I can’t help but laugh as I sit back and drape my arm over the back of Daphney’s chair. “No dirty laundry here. I’m just a soccer player.”
She scoffs. “No illegitimate children back in America? Some baby mamas you’re paying child support to?”
“No,” I nearly choke on my coffee. We really are on an episode ofDownton Abbey. “Illegitimate children? Is that really what you call them?”
“Ex-wives then?” Phoebe asks, and I can feel Daphney’s eyes burning on me.
I roll my eyes and shrug. “I’m twenty-five, so that’s a hard no as well.”
“Mummy issues? Daddy issues?”
All humor drains from my body as I shift in my chair and feel painfully reminded of the stupid situation I’m in right now—waiting on a freaking DNA test result. I school my features to look casual. “Like I said, I’m just a soccer player. What you see is what you get.”
Phoebe doesn’t seem convinced as she glances over at Daphney who looks exhausted after being completely steamrolled by her best friend.
Oddly, I feel protective of her. I jerk my chin up at Phoebe. “What’s your deal?”
“Moi?” Phoebe replies, feigning innocence.
“Yeah.” I lean across the table and pin her with a serious look. “How long have you and Daphney been friends?”
“Oh, darling.” Phoebe sighs dramatically. “We aren’t friends. We’re framily. And we’ve been so since nappies.”
