Sweeper

by Amy Daws

  “Yeah, maybe,” I reply hesitantly.

  “And I’d love to have you volunteer at a camp. The kids would get a kick out of an American.” Gareth smiles and nods.

  “Sure, yeah, I can do that.” I smile back politely.

  Gareth eyes me again for a moment. “I’m sorry, but you look really familiar. How old are you?”

  I swallow nervously. “Twenty-five.”

  He scoffs. “I’m way too much older than you to have gone to that camp with you then.”

  “Yeah,” I croak, doing my best to ignore the eerie sensation that I think we kind of look alike. I clear my throat and change the subject. “Any regrets on retiring?”

  “No.” Gareth scoffs and waves over a chestnut-haired woman with a little boy on her hip. “My wife, Sloan, and I are busy enough managing our kids. Our daughter, Sophia, is twelve, and she has serious feet, so I’m coaching her team. We’re traveling all over for her football schedule now. It’s very time-consuming.”

  “Is that right?” I smile up at Sloan as I shake her hand when she offers it.

  “He failed to mention he scared away the last coach of her team.” Her American accent is obvious as she slides unamused eyes over to her husband. “The poor guy quit in the middle of their first game.”

  “Only because he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing!” Gareth snaps.

  “Uncle Gareth!” Rocky coos, pointing at his mouth. “Swear jar.”

  Gareth’s jaw looks taut as he digs into his pocket and sticks a bill into the jar full of money.

  Tanner appears beside me out of nowhere. “Most of the money in that jar is mine. I’ve got the dirtiest mouth of this family. Can you imagine that, Williams?”

  “I can actually,” I laugh heartily.

  “Let me introduce you to my wife.” Tanner grabs a dark-haired woman and swirls her around in his arms, giving her a playful squeeze that she whacks him on the chest for. “Williams, this is my wife, Dr. Belle Ryan, and our youngest daughter Alexandra.” Tanner pauses to look out the window where an older girl is running with a smaller one.

  “Our niece Sophia is playing with our other daughter Joey. Short for Josephine.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Belle reaches forward and shakes my hand. “Hope Tanner isn’t being too hard on you.”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “No, it’s Coach Zion we all call a sadist.”

  The room goes very quiet. I swallow a knot in my throat when I see that all eyes have focused on me.

  “What did you just say?” Gareth asks, his voice deep and grave.

  I look around nervously. “I um… said Coach Z is a sadist.” I laugh awkwardly. “I mean…he certainly acts like it.”

  Out of nowhere, Tanner slams his hand to the table. “How dare you speak of Coach Zion like that.”

  All humor drains from my face because I’ve never seen Tanner Harris without a smile. “Seriously?”

  “He’s like family,” Camden says, stepping forward with a glower.

  “Okaaay,” I reply. “I didn’t say he was a bad coach. I just said—”

  “We heard what you said,” Vaughn cuts me off, eyeing me sternly like he’s about to grab me by the shirt and toss me out the door.

  My eyes search the space for Daphney who’s abandoned me in my hour of need. This moment right here is why I shouldn’t have pushed for an invite. I don’t know this family. I don’t know what sets them off or who they’re loyal to. They don’t even get my sense of humor. I’m sure Daphney would tell me I’m being way too American. This is what I get for having sex with Daphney instead of finishing Bridget Jones’s Diary!

  Suddenly, everyone erupts into laughter, the kids, the wives, hell, even the little baby that Belle is holding looks like she’s pointing her finger at me and having a gay old time.

  “We’re taking the piss, mate,” Gareth says into my ear, slapping my shoulder heartily. “The look on your face.”

  Daphney pops up out of nowhere, and she has tears in her eyes she’s laughing so hard. “You’ll learn to love the British sense of humor.”

  I drop my elbows on the table and rake my fingers through my hair, feeling like I just lost years off my life. “Fuck me.”

  A little blonde girl walks over to me with eyes narrowed. “It’s twenty quid for your first offense.” She pushes the glass jar in my direction. “Don’t worry, it all goes to charity.”

  Zander

  “So, this is it?” Link asks, holding a baggie of hair up in front of his face at breakfast the next day. He’s inspecting it like it’s going to show him the DNA results by sight alone.

  “Stop messing with it,” I snap and snatch the bag out of his hand, tucking it back into my coat pocket. I run two hands through my hair and grab my cup of coffee. “I can’t have another invalid result. This shit is stressing me out.”

  Knight eyes me thoughtfully. “So how was the dinner?”

  “It was fine,” I state, shrugging casually.

  The truth is, it was great. The entire visit was fun and funny. Delicious and warm. It was a real family dinner, and honestly, it was something I’d never experienced before. My parents were older when they had me, so I didn’t have any cousins my age running around. My grandparents passed when I was young. Obviously, I had no siblings. It was always just my parents and me. It was nice but quiet.

  The Harris Sunday dinner was the exact opposite. Everyone spoke over top of everyone. There was always a kid crying, missing, or pooping. The swear jar got passed around like dessert. After dessert, there was football talk over the kitchen counter, and condiment bottles were used to signal positions on a field. The ladies drank wine outside while the kids played in the snow. Hayden inspected Daphney’s car because it had been making strange noises.

  And there was love. Lots and lots of love. Couples kissing, kids hugging aunts and uncles. Photos being taken constantly.

  It was chaos.

  Beautiful, completely original, and foreign to me…chaos.

  I didn’t even have to try that hard to use Vaughn’s bathroom. One of the kids made a mess in the downstairs one, so Vaughn literally gave me directions to his bathroom upstairs. His hairbrush was sitting on the counter, like an offering from the universe.

  I looked at myself in the mirror after I’d pulled some hair off and I wasn’t even sure who was looking back. I’m not a guy who enjoys big family dinners. I don’t look like the eldest Harris brother. But I also didn’t think I looked like my own parents either. Honestly, I felt like I was staring at the reflection of a fucking stranger.

  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.”

  “Finney needs no cuddles. Finney needs an exorcism.”

  “That’s rather harsh.” I lift my glass of wine to my lips and take a sip. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous.” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully before silence descends between us. My smile falters. Maybe I took this joke too far. Maybe I sound like a girl who wants the guy she’s sleeping with to be jealous.

  The truth is, I wouldn’t want anyone else to go with me. And based on the awkward look on Zander’s face, I realize that he’s probably getting ready to let me down gently. I’ll be crushed. And the fact that I’ll be crushed is probably a bad thing because this is supposed to be casual. I should have just asked Phoebe. I’m likely going to be co-parenting with her when I’m still single in my thirties anyway.

  “Did you say you’re singing?” Zander shoots me a crooked smile, and hope reignites in my belly.

  “Yes,” I groan and play nervously with my hair. “I wouldn’t have even said yes, but it’s a paying gig, and I like money.”

  Zander huffs out a laugh. “That’s all you needed to say.”

  “Shut up.” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. “You’ll come?”

  “Yeah,” he replies, leaning forward and shooting me a dirty look that shows me exactly where his mind is at. “I’ve wanted to see you sing again ever since that night at Old George.”

  “Then why didn’t you stop me from making a fool of myself?”

  “’Cause I liked watching you try to make me jealous.” Zander turns his hat forward, pulling it low over his eyes.

  “It clearly didn’t work,” I grumble dejectedly, feeling like a proper fool.

  “Didn’t it?” He pins me with a knowing look, and I open my mouth to reply but suddenly feel at a rare loss of words.

  Zander reaches over and casually plucks a chip off my plate. “Am I your friend, Ducky?”

  I roll my eyes. “You’ve somehow become less horrible since we first met, so it would appear we’re leading into friendship territory.”

  He laughs and waggles his eyebrows. “Or all the good sex I’m giving you has improved your normally grumpy disposition toward me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” I giggle, and Zander surprises me as he leans across the table for a kiss. It’s intimate and tender and lingers longer than I expect it to, sending all sorts of flutters to my belly.

  He pulls back and pops an olive into his mouth like he didn’t just make me see stars. “I’m great at weddings, actually. I’ve got moves like Jagger.”

  “Oh, this I have to see,” I croak after I’ve recovered from that mind-blowing public display of affection. I redirect my attention to my food, feeling much more relaxed than before. It felt like a big step asking Zander to come with me to this wedding. But I figured if he can ask me to a Harris Sunday dinner, then this isn’t totally off the mark. I smile up at him and add, “It’ll be nice not being the odd one out in the Harris bunch for once.”

  Zander’s brows knit together. “The Harris family is all going to be there?”

  I nod around a strawberry. “Of course. Santino’s been the Bethnal Green club lawyer for over a decade, I think. He’s really close to the family.”

  “They’re close to everybody, aren’t they?” Zander says, turning his gaze out toward the water with a peculiar look on his face.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” My voice pitches up in curiosity.

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “Aren’t you worried they’ll suspect something is going on between us? It was your rule to keep our little arrangement a secret.”

  “I’ll bring you to the wedding as a friend just like I brought you to Sunday dinner,” I reply, feeling slightly defensive. “Just don’t bust out any Dirty Dancing moves on me, and we should be just fine.”

  A slow smile spreads across his face as he rises out of his chair and leans across the table. “You want to see a preview of my dance moves?”

  My brows lift as I deadpan, “A lap dance would be far worse than Dirty Dancing, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m not giving you a lap dance, Ducky,” he says and grabs my hand to yank me up out of my chair. He pulls me close and murmurs into my ear, “Not now at least.”

  He then wraps one hand around my waist and holds my other out in a formal pose. I nearly burst with excitement when he moves us around the table in a proper four-count, drawing the eyes of everyone in the restaurant.

  My jaw drops in fascination. “Are we?”

  “Waltzing? Yes, darling,” he purrs in a horrid British accent.

  “Oh, my God.” I laugh and glance down at our feet. “I’m…”

  “Impressed? Amazed? Turned on?” He pulls me closer, and the heated look in his eyes hits me deep in my belly.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Perhaps all of the above,” I admit honestly.

  His chest shakes with silent laughter as he continues moving with great ease to the music.

  “You never cease to surprise me, Soccer Boy.”

  “I could say the same to you, sweetheart.”

  Daphney

  “Daphney Clarke, as I live and breathe!” Phoebe bellows as she barges into Old George kitted out in red and white Arsenal football gear.

/>   “Hiya,” I call over to her as I pause wiping down the bar with disinfectant. “You better watch yourself in that kit around here. Especially with tonight’s FA Cup match against Bethnal Green.”

  She ignores my warning and props her elbows on the bar. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s ages in a teen’s years. And you know I’m still a child at heart.” She playfully bats her eyes.

  I sigh heavily, feeling a bit guilty for being so short in my text exchanges with her. Three jobs and a healthy sex life leave me knackered. “Let’s plan a proper date next weekend. Maybe we can get our nails done? I have that wedding I’m singing in next Sunday, so I could use a little pampering.”

  “Sold!” Her face contorts into something akin to speculative. “So come on then. Out with it.”

  “Out with what?”

  “I’m sure you’re in love with him by now.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

  “I am not in love.”

  She exhales dramatically. “Are you still sleeping with him?”

  “Yes, but we’re not spending the night with each other.” I shoot her a cocky smirk like I outsmarted her for once.

  “Well, that’s new.” She nods. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “We’re having fun, and that’s it.”

  “Well, good. I’m happy for you then.”

  I glance down her body once more. “So, what’s with the getup? You’ve never been a football fan.”

  Her eyes glitter with intrigue. “You know that guy who I hooked up with in your flat a few weeks ago?”

  “Well, I don’t know him. But I heard of him.” I laugh to myself when I recall how angry Zander was when he thought it was someone I was sleeping with. God, he’s cute when he’s jealous.

  “He works in marketing at Arsenal, and guess what I scored?” She reaches into her large handbag and holds up two tickets.