Now Therefore It Is Agreed as Follows:
Separation
The rest of the text is covered by a large purple Post-it that just says “Draft agreement for review,” and it feels far too invasive to lift it up to see the terms of the split. The note is scribbled in a hand that’s not Lachlan’s, but I can glean no other information from it. I slip the papers back in the folder and turn it over, but there’s no address on the front. Another dead end. So here are two things I know to be true: One, Lachlan and Claire are moving toward a formal separation, and two, I would be a terrible detective. I rearrange the stack of mail, shoving the newspaper at the bottom of the stack and slipping the manila folder somewhere in the middle. I’m pretty sure that’s what it looked like before I mangled it with my clumsiness, but just to be safe, I walk all the way to the other side of the room, sit down, and take out my phone.I was nowhere near the stack of mail, Your Honor, I swear.
When he emerges from the shower, Lachlan is the picture of cheeriness. He grabs his keys and ushers us out of the flat without so much as a glance at the table. And even though I keep up a decent stream of chatter, my thoughts for the rest of the day are devoted to the manila folder and what it contains.
Chapter Fifteen
“All right, Stripes, how longis this going to take?” Lachlan sidles up to me in the training center and drapes his arm over my shoulders, peering down to try to see what’s written on my notecards.
I press them to my chest and turn to look at him—not hard to do, as his face is impossibly close. I can smell the mint of his mouthwash. “Stripes?”
“Yeah, that’s your new nickname. As in ‘Stars and—’ ”
“What happened to ‘Macca’?”
“That’s what all the lads call you. I want something special. Something that’s just mine.”
A little firework, a little pinwheel of sparks, fizzes in a circle in the center of my chest.Something that’s just mine. Before I can retort with a nickname of my own, Matthew Fletcher shows up and slaps Lachlan on the ass.
“Come on, big boy, let’s get into it,” he says. Then he turns to me. “All right, Macca?”
We’re filming a new segment today called “BFFs”—basically the Newlywed Game, but with pairs of Mersey players. As probably the two closest people on the team, Lachlan and Matty are up first.
Phil and his crew make final adjustments and then I kick us offwith the first question for Matty. “Who did Lachlan make his debut against in his first Mersey game?”
“Everton. He assisted my goal. Great match.”
Lachlan nods and shows us what he’s written on his whiteboard. “Yep. Very special day. The beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He leans his head on Matty’s shoulder; Matty jerks his shoulder and shoves him off.
“Don’t try to distract me with affection, Ramsay. I’m going to smash you.”
“Who did Lachlan say was the most talented defender he ever played against?” I ask.
Matty looks at Lachlan. “You’ve always hated Damon Talbot, right?”
“I don’t hate the man, butfuckI hate playing him.” He turns to me. “Oh shit, I’m not supposed to swear, am I? Anyway, well done, Skip.” He flips around the board, where he’s written “Talbot” and drawn a face with angry eyebrows and devil horns.
“Get in!” Matty shouts, pumping the air. “I’m on a roll.” Matty’s shout has drawn the notice of a couple of the players leaving the gym, and a few of them come over to watch us film. Matty’s energy intensifies as he notices the audience; he sits up straighter and the expression behind his eyes darkens. Lachlan, on the other hand, is smilier than ever.
“Who did Lachlan say was the most talented teammate he ever played with?”
Matty pulls a face. “I mean, me? He must have said me.”
Lachlan is hiding behind the dry erase board, but we can all see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, and some of the players watching us from the circle have immediately twigged what’s going on.
Matty notices too. “Come off it, are you serious?” He tries toprize Lachlan’s fingers away from the board, but Lachlan’s got a death grip on the thing. “Who did you say? If it’s some bloody Spaniard, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Through his giggles, Lachlan slips the eraser up into the infinitesimal gap between the board and his chest and furiously erases something. Pulling off the cap of the marker with his teeth, he scribbles a word and flips the board to the camera. “Look,” he says, tears in his eyes. “Matthew Fletcher, obviously.”
Matty is apoplectic. “That doesn’t say anything! You’re such a liar.”
