Chapter 16 Vincent #2
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, man.” Most men would love to find a half-naked woman waiting for them, but Noah was the opposite of most men. His only focus was football and his daughter Evie. He didn’t care about dating, but given his work and travel schedule, he couldn’t take care of her on his own.
Unfortunately, he’d had the worst luck trying to find the right nanny. They either fell in love with him, didn’t get along with Evie, or both.
“Thanks. The new nanny is in her seventies and happily married, so the lingerie situation shouldn’t be an issue,” Noah said dryly. “I just hope Evie isn’t giving her a hard time.”
I kept my mouth shut. Personally, I’d rather set myself on fire than watch anyone between the ages of ten and twelve. Preteens were terrifying.
While Noah texted his nanny, I checked my own phone. My heartbeat tripped when I saw a text from Brooklyn. It was as though she’d heard my thoughts earlier.
Brooklyn
Sorry about today’s match :( That last ref call was bullshit
Brooklyn
But at least you didn’t misjudge your interception the way you did during the Holchester match. Baby steps. You’re learning.
My lips curved. Trust Brooklyn to remember a small mistake from last month.
Thanks a lot. That makes me feel better
I wasn’t being sarcastic. Talking to her was like a weird form of therapy. She could insult me the entire time, and I’d still feel better after one of our conversations than I did after a session with the team’s psychologist.
Brooklyn
You’re welcome :)
Brooklyn
Seriously though. That ref was the worst. You should’ve at least gotten a draw.
It is what it is. We’ll smash it next time.
I wasn’t as nonchalant about the loss as I pretended to be, but I was the captain. I had to put up a strong front for everyone else.
What are you up to?
Brooklyn
Enjoying alone time in the flat without you. Finally.
Define “alone time”
Brooklyn
…
Brooklyn
Get your mind out of the gutter, you perv
You started it. Anyway, don’t lie. You miss me and you know it
Brooklyn
I miss you the way I miss root canals—the ones without anesthesia
Wow, buttercup
That’s not a nice joke and my feelings are hurt. You should apologize by making me pancakes when I get home
Brooklyn
Make them yourself. I’m not your personal chef
I mean, technically…
Brooklyn
Finish that sentence and I will sic HR on you
Not HR. C’mon, you know Lizzie’s had it out for me since I accidentally ate her yogurt
Brooklyn
You should’ve thought of that before stealing other people’s snacks
Three dots popped up, disappeared, and reappeared.
I held my breath.
Brooklyn
But I was thinking of you because Bake Off comes on soon
A grin stretched across my face.
Were you? Interesting
Brooklyn
Don’t read too much into it
Brooklyn
You’ve brainwashed me into turning on Channel 4 every Tuesday night and I WILL make you pay for it
You’re lying again. You love watching Bake Off with me
Actually, she reminded me that I needed to leave soon. The show started in ten minutes, and our book club had devolved into a half-pillow fight, half-philosophical debate about the dinosaurs’ extinction.
Want to watch it together? I can regale you with hilarious commentary over the phone
I waited. Nothing. Not even the three dots.
“Who are you texting?”
The voice was so close to my ear, I instinctively jumped and nearly banged my head into Adil’s nose. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that. I almost punched you.”
“Sorry.” He plopped down in Asher’s vacated spot. He’d given up on mediating a book club discussion and was eyeing me with open curiosity. “So, who were you texting? New girlfriend? You have a goofy smile on your face.”
My mouth flattened into a straight line. “My smile isn’t goofy.”
“Hmm. I beg to differ.”
“Don’t make me rethink punching you.”
“Okay, okay. I can take a hint.” Adil held up his hands in surrender. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you because, um, I wanted to apologize again.”
“For what?”
“For telling Coach about your intruder.” He shifted, his brows pulled so low they formed a sharp V. “I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble. He’s Coach, you know? He always has the answers, so I thought…I don’t know. I thought he might be able to help.”
“You already apologized. Don’t worry about it.”
I’d been annoyed at the time, but I’d gotten over it. I hadn’t expected Adil to still be beating himself up over it.
“Okay. As long as you’re not mad at me,” he said anxiously.
“I’m not.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder before rising to my feet. “But I’m going to turn in early. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Noah was already gone. I said goodbye to the rest of the guys and slipped out before they could guilt-trip me into staying longer. I was going to miss the start of Bake Off, and Brooklyn still hadn’t texted me back.
I tried not to think about it as I walked to my room. She was probably busy with something else. She said she’d turned down a date with Mason, so she—
A door to my left opened. “DuBois.”
My steps faltered as Coach stepped into the corridor. “Hey, Boss.”
He raised his eyebrows and glanced over my shoulder. Muffled shouts and laughter leaked out from Adil’s hotel room. “Do I want to know what’s going on in there?”
I discreetly pushed my copy of Fucking My Theropod Therapist deeper into my pocket. “Not really, no.” I swallowed, then added, “I’m sorry we let you down today.”
I hated disappointing myself, but I hated disappointing him more.
“You didn’t,” he said gruffly. “The entire team fought like hell out there. Sometimes that’s enough. Sometimes it isn’t. That’s the nature of the game. What matters is getting back up after you’ve been knocked down. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.” He’d given us a similar pep talk in the changing room after the match, but I’d needed to hear it again. This job could really fuck with your head if you let it.
“I’m glad I caught you because there’s something else I wanted to discuss. It’s about Brooklyn.”
My whole body tensed with foreboding. Sweat slicked down my spine, and I had to fight to keep my voice even.
“Oh?” I managed. “What about her?”
He couldn’t know about our living situation. If he did, he wouldn’t be this calm—unless he was trying to lull me into a false sense of security.
A golf ball lodged itself in my throat.
Coach ran a hand over his face. “Normally, I wouldn’t do this. I hate mixing work and family, but Jones said she still hasn’t accepted his job offer. The deadline is in a month, and you’re friends with her. Has she…said anything to you about it?”
“No.” Technically true. She’d never told me why she hadn’t accepted the offer yet. “I’m sure she’s just doing her due diligence. A permanent position is different from an internship.”
Coach sighed. “You’re probably right. She has a good head on her shoulders. She knows what she’s doing. But don’t, ah, tell her that I asked, okay? I don’t want her to think I’m sneaking around behind her back.”
“I won’t.” I hesitated, then added, “Your relationship with Brooklyn is none of my business, sir, but—and this is just a suggestion—perhaps you might want to talk to her yourself instead of asking her friends. I have a feeling she’d appreciate it.”
He stared at me.
Shit. Had I crossed way over the line?
I held still, worried the slightest muscle twitch would set him off.
“Get some rest,” he finally said. “We have an early morning.”
I didn’t release my breath until he disappeared around the corner, toward the vending machines.
By the time I got to my room, Bake Off had already started
I checked my phone again. Still no reply from Brooklyn.
I set it aside and focused on the TV, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t enjoy the episode as much as I wanted to.