“It is if we lose the cup,” Adam shouted over his shoulder. “Now is not the time, my friend.”
Noah glanced to his left and saw Edi watching him as they made their way up to the far goal.
“It is Carmine, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Noah replied, breathlessly. “We’re not together anymore. At least I don’t think we are.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, mate. What happened?”
Jogging and having a heart-to-heart wasn’t Noah’s favourite combination. Yet, Steven had a point. He wasn’t being professional. He couldn’t go to pieces at this stage in the season.
“The usual. He resented how much I give to the game. It’s a fucking piss-take.”
They ran in silence for a minute.
“Can I say something?” Edi ventured.
“I don’t know. Can you?”
“I’m the main breadwinner for my family,” Edi continued, ignoring Noah’s immature response. “I understand the responsibility you have on your shoulders.”
This time Noah stayed silent. Partially because they’d been running hard for nearly five minutes. And also because Edi did have this in common with him.
“Go on,” he said.
“From what you’ve said, Malcolm isn’t suffering. Why do you have to be so bloody perfect?”
“I’m not trying to be perfect. I want to save his league and set up a charity for kids like him. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, mate,” Edi replied. “Unless you’re using this mission to avoid giving everything to Carmine. That would be pretty shit.”
The words stung. Mainly because they were true.
“I’ll speak to Carmine,” he replied.
What would he say? It had been shit sleeping alone last night. It also hurt that Carmine hadn’t been in touch either.
They were both acting like kids. Noah would have to step up and fix this otherwise he’d lose something special.
Once again he caught Edi looking at him.
“I will,” he exclaimed. “I promise.”
EIGHTEEN
CARMINE
Carmine stared at his phone, which he’d left in full view. He would be pissed if he got a call and, for some reason, it went straight to voicemail. Far safer to keep it within his eyeline.
It was now mid-afternoon and nothing.
He was playing about with some designs for the potential new restaurant Raoul had his eye on. La Piazza had opened decades ago, which meant they’d had to squeeze in new technology such as the massive dishwasher that Stefano was unnervingly proud of.
He was proud as punch that all three Amato men would be working on a project together. Poor Raoul would never get to be the boss.
Not that they would neglect La Piazza. That place was woven in the fabric of their family. Raoul could handle both as well as their father pecking his head.
Carmine chuckled to himself.
