Page 47 of Playing to Win

Colin hesitated. “Right.”

“Just keep up your studies and when you get your degree, it’ll change your life. Maybe change all our lives.”

“Yeah. Sure.” But what if it didn’t? What if in three years, the economy was still pure crap, thanks to government austerity measures? What if a bachelor’s degree was nothing but a waste of time?

Still, he had to keep a brave face for Dad. “I’ve been doing extra reading for my business course this summer. All those hours on the exercise bike gave me loads of time.” He tapped his knee. “Talking of which, it’s official—I’m to play Saturday in the friendly match against Shettleston.”

“On your birthday? Well done! But you’ll be careful, aye?”

“Me? Careful?”

“Right. Never mind.”

Colin stood slowly, thrilled when his knee didn’t pop. “I’ll just have a quick shower, then we’ll work out next month’s budget, okay?”

“Thanks, lad. I could use your magic with numbers.” As Colin opened the bedroom door, his father added, “Did you see what else came in the post? Some posh-looking invite from someone in Kirkross.”

Colin froze. “Oh.” He eased open the bedroom door, trying to look indifferent. Then he tore off down the hall to the kitchen table, football boots thundering on the thin carpet.

He’d never expected to hear from Andrew again. A dozen times over the last week, he’d picked up the phone thinking to text an apology or explanation. But the thought of getting no response had stopped him cold.

Colin shoved aside the other mail until he found a white-linen envelope with his name and address engraved—fuckingengraved—in black on the front. “Whoa.”

“What’s that?” Emma asked, her attention drawn from the telly, whereRiver City’s end credits were rolling.

He turned his back. “None of your business.”

She vaulted out of her chair to land next to him. “Is it a love letter?”

“No.”

“I bet it is. I bet it’s a letter ofloooooooooooove.” She grabbed for it, and when he held it out of reach, she bounced around him chanting “Colin’s got a boyfriend! Colin’s got a boyfriend!” She started forming letters with her arms and legs. “B-O-Y—”

“Shut it,” he said, “or I’ll hide your inhaler again.”

She stopped. “What do you mean, again? When did you hide my inhaler?”

“He’s having you on, Emma,” their gran said. “And just for joking about it, he should let you see the letter.”

Colin scowled, but in this flat, their grandmother was the arbiter of justice. “All right, Gran, but it’ll be your fault if there’s filthy photos inside.”

“Ugh.” Emma made a face but opened the envelope anyway, sliding a long, blue-lacquered fingernail to break the seal. “Ooh, it’s complex.” She withdrew a small envelope and a piece of tissue paper, then the invitation itself. Her lips moved as she read it silently.

Then she began to laugh.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

“ISTHISAjoke?”

Andrew needed a deep, steadying breath at the sound of Colin’s voice on the phone. “Firstly, hello. Secondly, how are you?” Tucking the phone against his bare shoulder, he finished tying his yoga pants and toed open the door to one of his bedroom’s walk-in wardrobes. “Thirdly, is what a joke?”

“Yeah, hi. I’m fine. This invite your family sent. Have you seen what it says?”

“I’ve received myinvitation,” Andrew said, “but I’ve not opened it, as I already know the details.”

“Read it.”

“Now? I’m putting away the dry cleaning.” From his bed Andrew picked up the shirt he’d worn to Dunleven Castle last week, checking to see thesalsa romescostain had been removed.

---