Page 73 of Sweeper
The sooner I get this damn DNA sample sent, the sooner I can get back to my fucking life.
“It was fine?” Knight repeats my blasé response with a look of mistrust all over his face. “Come on, man. Even I would say more than that after having a meal at the Harris childhood home.”
“I enjoyed myself, alright,” I snap, annoyance prickling in my veins. “And I’m afraid that was something I didn’t even consider.”
“What do you mean?” Link asks, blinking curiously over at me.
I look back and forth between my two friends. “I didn’t expect to like them. I expected them to be a bunch of pompous, overconfident assholes. I figured I’d find out they’re all too famous and successful and rich to relate to. I thought they’d be arrogant and rude.”
“And they weren’t?” Knight inquires even though it’s clear he knows the answer.
“No.” I exhale heavily. “They were the diametrical opposite. They were laid-back and cool. They teased me like they’d known me for years. I feel awful.”
“Why?” Link asks, his brows furrowed.
“Because I have a family.” I let go of my coffee mug as my hands turn to fists on the table. “And I feel like every smile I gave on Sunday was like me shitting on Dad’s grave.”
Knight reaches out and grabs my wrist. “What if you don’t send the hair in?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “Maybe what you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
I sit back and shake my head. “I can’t come this far and not finish this race.”
“This isn’t a game, Zander,” Knight replies, his voice serious. “This is your life.”
“I know!” I turn to look out the window. “And if I don’t send this in, I’m never going to feel settled. I have to know. The anxiety over not knowing will be worse than whatever the truth turns out to be.”
“I agree,” Link says, offering me a half-smile. “Information is power. Whatever you find out, we can deal with.”
Knight exhales heavily, and I’m hoping I can interpret that as silent understanding.
Daphney
“Would we be breaking some rules if you came to a wedding with me in a couple of weeks? I looked and saw you have a match in Southampton on Saturday, but the wedding is actually Sunday evening.” I eye Zander as we sit at The Serpentine Restaurant in Hyde Park.
This place is a favorite of Phoebe’s and mine. It’s a quaint little glass-walled building on lakefront property that gives you a break from the city. Zander’s been acting stir-crazy the past few days, so I thought maybe showing him another part of London might help get him out of his funk.
“Whose wedding?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer and glancing over at the guitarist playing in the corner.
“It’s actually the club lawyer, Santino Rossi. Hence, why the wedding is on a Sunday.”
“Oh yeah, I met him when I first moved here,” Zander replies, turning his baseball cap backward. He always looks so cute with it backward. “He stopped by with my lease agreement, remember? I see him around Tower Park occasionally too.”
“Oh, of course.” I nod and smile, realizing that Zander still hasn’t said yes to coming with me. “Well, he’s marrying Mac Logan’s sister, Tilly? You met Mac and his wife, Freya, briefly at Vaughn’s house Sunday, and they’ve asked me to sing at their wedding. Everyone I know there will be coupled up, so it’d be nice to have a friend with me. And I know we’re not in a relationship but the whole, being exclusive rule kind of mucks up me finding another date.”
“Who else would you bring?” Zander asks, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe that Scottish midfielder Banner MacLeod?” I can’t hide the smile on my face.
Zander shakes his head, a smirk lightening his eyes.
“He seemed keen. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the seedy underbelly of Edinburgh he told me about at the pub,” I deadpan.
“That’s enough of that,” Zander grumbles, and it makes me laugh.
“I could ask him or Finnegan. He hasn’t been getting much pitch time, so he’s probably due for a nice cuddle.”
