“She’s going to ruin everything.”
“No, she’s not.”
“Her job is to work with the players to curate and manage our online content. She’s going to be around a lot, and then she’ll want to hang out with us every night and on the weekends. I’ll never get you alone.”
“I’ll run intervention.” Astrid strokes my arms. “She’ll make new friends and most likely have a new boyfriend within a month. It will be nice to have company at times when you’re away so I don’t feel too lonely.”
“Tamara is going to introduce you to all her friends, and you’ll meet people through work over the summer. You won’t need Gwen.”
Astrid sighs. “I know this isn’t ideal, but?—”
A bitter laugh shreds my throat. “This is the very furthest from ideal. Can’t you put her off? If you tell her out straight that we don’t want this, she’ll turn the job down and fuck off back to America.”
“You really want me to do that to her? I know she’s a lot, Callan, but she’s my best friend. I can’t do that to her. Please don’t ask it of me.”
“And if I asked you to choose between her and me?”
“I’d choose you!” Astrid shouts before lowering her voice. “Of course, I’d choose you, but you’re not the kind of guy who would force me to make such a choice, or don’t I know you at all?”
I pull her into my arms and rest my chin on her head. “I won’t make you choose, but I want it noted I don’t like this, and I think it’s a bad idea.”
Astrid rubs soothing circles on my back through my shirt, and we’re both quiet for a few minutes. When her head tips back and she stares deep into my eyes, I know what she’s thinking. “Don’t ask that of me,” I snap. “I can’t stop her from moving to London, but Icanstop her from staying here.”
“One week. Just let her stay for one week. I’ll talk to her and ensure she stays out of your way. She’s going to be busy with her new job, and she’ll probably be exhausted every night.”
“No. She can go to a hotel.”
“She doesn’t have money for a hotel.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“I hate this,” Astrid cries. “I hate that you don’t like my best friend.” She breaks down, sobbing into my shirt, and my resolve wavers with every tear.
“Please, baby. Don’t cry.” I hold her close, hoping I don’t come to regret these words. “She can stay here. For one week. After that, she’s on her own.”
“How’s life?” Dara asks when I answer his call from my car.
“Well, I’ve been parked in the car park of my apartment building for fifteen minutes, trying to pluck up the courage to go upstairs, so you tell me,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Crazy is still living with you?”
Leaning my head back against the headrest, I cleave out a heavy sigh. “Yep. One week has become three, and at this stage, I’m tempted to go rent her a fucking flat myself.”
“I know the rental market is competitive in London, but surely she can find somewhere to live?”
“You’d think, right? She keeps missing out. I asked the housing liaison officer at the club if she’d help, and she’s trying, but she says Gwen’s budget is limited and demand outstrips supply.”
“Can’t Astrid do anything?”
“She’s talking to Gwen about it regularly. Gwen cries and says she’s trying her best, and I come out of it looking like a prick. Astrid and I had a massive row on Monday night, and I’m sick of arguing over Gwen fucking Wright.”
“It’s a shite situation. Maybe you could set her up with one of the single players on the team. If she falls for someone, she can move in with him, and she’s no longer your problem.”
“I would not inflict her on any of my teammates, and she’s told me outright how important the job is to her, and I’m not to do anything to mess it up for her.”
“What’d you say?”
“That I wouldn’t have to do or say anything for her to mess it up.”
