Chapter 23 #2
Neither the thought nor his presence alarmed her, though.
Not like it had last night, anyway. Not like it might have done had he been awake and looking at her.
It was … nice, actually. Watching him sleep, hearing the steady rhythm of his breathing.
It was soothing, restful. Like the gentle fall of rain on the roof or the quiet swish of a becalmed ocean lapping the shore.
Which was a revelation. The rare nights she spent an entire night in bed with a man, she usually woke with thoughts of escape, not wanting to be trapped or tied down. Okay, this was different but, still, knowing Fin didn’t want to trap or tie?
She could get used to this.
A small frown chased across his brow and his lips parted. Sweeney curled her fingers in the sheet to stop herself from running her thumb along their very kissable contours. It was surprisingly hard to do, which was just the prod she needed to get out of bed.
This was utter fancy—she and Fin were not in a relationship. Not a real one, anyway. She clearly needed a coffee.
*
There were probably half a dozen people inside the diner situated in the block of small suburban shops across the road from the hotel when Sweeney entered.
The bell above the door dinged and she was greeted with a, ‘Hey, hon,’ from a woman behind a wide counter that was lined with red stools to the right and left.
Her greying hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her stiffly frizzed fringe looking like it had been there’s something about Mary’ d. She was wearing large round spectacles with bright blue frames, a pink polo shirt displaying the diner’s logo and a name badge that said Dolly.
‘Hey,’ Sweeney said with a smile as the cool embrace of air-con enveloped her in a refreshing hug. It might be April but the sun was already uncomfortably warm.
Welcome to the Sunshine State.
‘Menu’s here.’ Dolly tipped her chin at a stack of large, one-page laminated menus sitting by the till. ‘Bakery items there.’ She tipped her chin at the glass display case this time. ‘Have a seat and I’ll come get your order. Unless you want a takeaway.’
‘Just two flat whites to go, please.’
She smiled. ‘Coming up.’
Picking up a menu, Sweeney noted the coastal vibes décor complete with wall-mounted surfboard.
She took in the booths situated near the windows and the layout of the other tables—half of which were already occupied bright and early on a public holiday morning—covered in checked gingham cloths.
The menu was extensive and typical of food that could be cooked fresh and fast. Eggs every way imaginable.
Breakfast fry-ups. Burgers. Chips. Salads.
The milk frother hissed away as Sweeney wandered to the display case. It was chock full of pastries that would be perfectly at home in Paris, along with pies, sausage rolls and mini quiches. Also, an extensive range of kick-ass muffins.
‘Do you get these in from a local supplier?’ Sweeney asked.
‘Only the pies and sausage rolls,’ Dolly replied. ‘The rest are freshly baked every day right here on the premises.’
Impressed, Sweeney ran her eye along the little flags in front of each row of muffins. A savoury selection—zucchini and carrot, pumpkin, spinach and fetta, pesto and cheese. And a more extensive selection of sweet—raspberry, blueberry, apple, macadamia and white chocolate, peanut butter, banana.
And hummingbird.
The printed words slid like a stiletto between Sweeney’s ribs as she remembered it was Michael Murphy’s birthday today. Another reason Fin had made the trek home, and something she knew had been weighing on his mind since his mother declined accompanying him to the Gold Coast.
Fin had wanted Rhonda to join them so they could be together for the solemn occasion, but she’d been adamant that the comp—which had been Michael’s ambition for the Banshees—was the most important thing, and that she wanted Fin to be able to concentrate on it without having to check in on her all the time, because he would.
Smart mamma!
Ronnie had reasoned that she and Fin still had a few days when he returned from the Gold Coast to spend together and they’d do something for Michael’s birthday then. And Connie had assured Fin that she’d be there for Ronnie today.
An idea surfaced in Sweeney’s brain. ‘What time do you close tonight?’
Dolly placed the coffee mugs in a disposable tray. ‘Closes at ten. Opens at five am.’
That would definitely work. ‘Would I be able to buy one of those hummingbird muffins and get you to put it aside for later on this evening? I’d like to bring a friend by for a … birthday celebration.’
A small private celebration—just the two of them—felt fitting to mark Michael’s birthday. Away from the hotel, where he was too easily accessible. And where they could get away from that damn bed for a while.
‘We do an afternoon bake,’ Dolly informed her as she took the coffees in their tray to the till. ‘I can put one aside from that, be extra fresh.’
‘Thanks.’ Sweeney smiled as she paid her bill. ‘I’d appreciate that.’
‘See you tonight,’ Dolly said as Sweeney half turned.
‘Oh. You’ll still be here?’
‘Yup. Split shift.’ She grinned. ‘For my sins.’
Sweeney laughed. ‘Okay then, see you tonight.’
By the time she got back to the room ten minutes later, Fin was up, still in his pyjama shirt but with his jeans from yesterday pulled on as Mai and Donny and three other parents talked at him about the schedule and logistics and strategy.
It seemed pretty damn intense and Fin looked bewildered by the onslaught, his bed hair still a little crazy despite his finger combing.
‘Hey,’ she murmured as she drew closer to Fin, passing over the coffee. Out of some base instinct, something that felt almost protective, she slid her arm around his waist and held for a moment or two, leaning into him a little.
‘You okay?’ she asked, tipping her head back to thoroughly inspect his expression.
‘Yeah.’ He nodded as their gazes locked for a beat or two.
And in those ticks of silence an entire conversation had taken place. Sweeney saying, I know this is a tough day for you and I wish your dad was still alive. Fin saying, Yeah, these milestone days really suck and I wish my dad was still alive, too.
But then he smiled and said, ‘Thanks,’ and she knew he was doing okay.
Giving his side a squeeze, she stepped away and headed to her camera gear as the conversation continued around her.
*
The rest of the day was a blur. The two Banshees teams each played multiple games within their age groups.
Fin and Donny coached from the sidelines, Sweeney madly snapped pictures of the two teams both on the field and off the field.
In between games there was more herding of cats as the teams and their entourage navigated the narrow spaces between pitches where games were still being played, dodging referees and umpires and linespeople and coaches and myriad sideline supporters to get to the communal spaces of the massive sports complex.
It was colourful and chaotic under the warm Queensland sunshine, with hundreds of kids aged five to fifteen, from all around the country, running around in their different club jerseys, a kaleidoscope of colours against the backdrop of green grass and blue sky.
And loud, too, with whistles blowing and coaches calling and hundreds and hundreds of people bustling and milling as they cheered and clapped and yelled encouragement from the sidelines.
Not to mention the constant stream of announcements over the loudspeakers that floated to the furthest reaches of the fields.
Everything from messages for officials to what games were up next and on what field to lost hats, lost children and the spruiking of special lunch deals at the food vans that had taken over a section of the car park.
By the time the comp had wrapped for the day, Sweeney was once again exhausted.
But, by some miracle, both Ballyshannon teams had made it through the first round of knockouts—by the skin of their teeth—and had survived to play a second knockout round tomorrow morning.
The winners of those knockouts would advance to the quarter finals, which would be played after lunch, with the semi and grand finals being played on the final day.
Mai, who had been chief herder, running the schedule like a drill sergeant—making sure that kids and parents were where they had to be at any given time and that sunscreen had been applied and reapplied and that the kids were staying well hydrated—was probably the most exhausted.
So, instead of heading out to a pizza joint for dinner as had been in their official schedule, she arranged for a pizza delivery to the sporting complex that had quickly cleared out after the last game and was now pretty much deserted.
It had been a brilliant idea. No one had to go back to the hotel and quickly change and get going again, jollying along kids in that potentially volatile state of being both tired and wired. They all just sat under the large jacaranda trees that lined the perimeter of the grounds and ate al fresco.
Come September, the trees would be resplendent with electric mauve flowers, which would form an almost iridescent carpet as they eventually fell to the grass, but for now they were a cool, fluttery green canopy, perfect for a picnic as the sun slowly faded from the sky and the temperature started to ease.
Low murmurs emanated from the group as people ate and chatted about the day or their jobs or whatever they had going on back at home.
It was nowhere near as boisterous as the noise level had been for most of the day, which was a nice change.
Off to one side, Fin and Donny were talking to the coach and a group of parents from the older team about how their games had unfolded.
Every time Sweeney’s gaze had sought Fin throughout the day, he’d been occupied doing one thing or another.
With his dad’s whistle hanging around his neck, he’d juggled strategising with his cousin, chatting and signing with the kids, handing out orange segments at half-time or doing up yet another shoelace for yet another player who for sure was going to trip over it at some point. And for that she was grateful.
At least the day hadn’t dragged for him, which was not nothing.
‘They’ll sleep well tonight,’ Sweeney said, nudging Mai’s arm as she spotted Tori and Nellie.
They were sitting with Winnie, none of them their usual animated selves.
There were no clapping games or handstands or comparing toes—as they’d been doing in one particularly memorable snap Sweeney had taken during a training session.
The three little girls sat quietly, holding hands as they devoured their triangles of pizza.
‘They sure will,’ Mai agreed, wiping her greasy mouth with the back of her hand as she glanced at her daughters. ‘They look like they’re about to fall off their perch any moment.’ She returned her attention to Sweeney. ‘What are you and Fin doing after this?’
‘I’m taking him across to the diner for dessert. It’s Michael’s birthday today.’
‘Oh, shit,’ Mai swore quietly. ‘We completely forgot about that.’
Sweeney waved her hand. ‘It’s fine. Today has been full-on and neither Fin nor Michael, for that matter, would want everyone making a fuss.’
‘Maybe but … birthdays, Christmases, Father’s Days.’ Mai shrugged. ‘They’re all hard, right? I don’t need to tell you that.’
She did not. ‘Yes. They’re all hard. But it hurts less over time.’ After twenty years of special days without her dad, Sweeney could speak authoritatively on how deep, grinding grief eventually eases to something more bearable.
Not gone, just different.
‘I’m pleased he has you,’ Mai murmured.
That twinge of guilt Sweeney had been feeling practically non-stop these past almost four weeks didn’t tweak like it usually did. Because she was pleased Fin had her today, too. Whether as a bestie or a fake fiancée, she was just pleased to be here.
Sweeney smiled and patted Mai’s arm. ‘I got him,’ she assured.
And hell if she didn’t like the sound of that.