Fuck.
“He’s away all weekend?”
“You’ve left me no choice. I have to pack. I can’t do that while Toby’s needing my attention. You’re the one throwing me out of here. Anyway, I’m going to need some furniture.”
“No. The apartment’s fully furnished. Save the money you’d be paying on rent for furniture for when you move to your own place.” I knew I had to stop enabling her, else it wasn’t going to stop. If Toby needed anything for his room, I’d get it for him.
There was silence at the other end, until it was broken by the sound of a man’s voice, a man who had a London accent.
“Babe, we need to go.”
My sister wasn’t at home packing. Whatever weekend plans she’d made were still going ahead. She probably wasn’t in Manchester and I could easily find out.
“Where are you off to?” I kept my voice light.
“Nowhere.”
“Who just spoke then?”
“I’ve got the TV on in the background, is that alright?”
I wanted to flip out, ask her about whether it was alright to keep palming her son off on anyone she could. Ask her if she thought I was a fool.
“I don’t believe you’re at my house, Joanne. I really fucking don’t.” I hung up. There were only about half a dozen times I’d hung up on my sister. I didn’t have a temper; I hated to end a conversation on a bad note, but right now I couldn’t talk to her.
I put my phone down on the kitchen worktop and walked away from it, taking the glass of prosecco over to the sofa and sat down.
“You okay?”
The voice made me jump. Maybe that was why Rowan could twist round defenders: he was stealth-like.
“Fine.” Default answer.
“Didn’t seem like it.”
I shrugged and forced a smile. “I thought you’d gone over to the club house with Ryan and Izzy.”
He shook his head. “I needed to speak to my mother. Family stuff.”
I nodded slowly. “Family stuff too.”
He sat down on the other sofa, folding his arms which only showed off those biceps again. “I think most of us hide the family stuff. When it’s going wrong. Divorces, parents being ill, brothers with drug problems…”
“Is that your brother?” The question was out before I could really think about what I was asking.
Rowan laughed. “No. My little brother plays snooker and stays well out of the limelight. I think the hardest thing he’s ever done was cherry coke instead of original cola.”
“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed…”
He shrugged. “My family are low key. But I know other players whose families aren't and we all try to keep it private so the media doesn’t find them out.”
I nodded. Any scandal, anyone who wasn’t perfect would be lynched by the media. If our image was tainted, we risked losing sponsorships, or even being transferred to another club.
“I didn’t mean for my ex to go to the press, or those photos to be printed.”
He sounded so incredibly sincere.
“You don’t need to explain to me.” I stood up. “I get it.” I did. I knew the press would feed off anything. “We should head for dinner.”
