Page 62 of Playing to Win

Moving past the tables being laid for the two a.m. breakfast, Andrew went to the banister overlooking the dance floor. By the time he reached it, his phone rang with a call from Colin.

Andrew answered. “Hello there. Did I wake you before?”

“Naw, I’m at Polo Lounge,” Colin shouted over the din of club music. “John and Fergus and Liam took me out for my—for my scoring the equalizer.”

“Well done! I wish I could’ve been there.”

“Aye, right.” The background bass thump softened a bit as Colin seemed to move to a quieter location. “A preseason amateur football match is no one’s dream Saturday afternoon.”

“Still, I would love to see you play.” Andrew had sat in the world’s most legendary stadiums—Madrid’s Bernebéu, Old Trafford in Manchester, Juventus Stadium in Turin—often watching players with whom he’d either had or would imminently have illicit rendezvous. As thrilling as that had been, nothing made Andrew’s thighs tingle like the thought of watching Colin dash down a muddy Glasgow amateur football pitch.

“How’s your reeling party?” Colin asked. “Is your dance card full of randy lads in kilts?”

“Only women get dance cards. If I were to reel with another man, the ballroom would probably burn itself to the ground. But that’s Old Scotland for you.Plus ça change, you know?”

“Hm.”

“That means ‘the more—’”

“—‘things change, the more they stay the same.’ I know whatplus ça changemeans.” Colin’s protest lacked its usual bite.

“Sorry. But no, I’ve not danced with a single man all night. Or a married one.” He tittered nervously at his own feeble joke. “I’m envious, you being at Polo Lounge.”

Colin made a distracted noise, and Andrew’s envy morphed into jealousy. “I’m sorry, are you with someone tonight?”

“Just my mates.” Colin’s voice sounded strangely hollow.

“Are you drunk?”

“Uh-uh. Just…tired…I guess.”

Andrew’s hand tightened on the polished banister. This was going poorly. He shouldn’t have phoned. They weren’t boyfriends, for God’s sake.

On the dance floor below, the Hamilton House ended, giving way to an eightsome reel—which, thankfully, Andrew was not promised for. He tried to salvage the conversation by showing he remembered the other reason this day was important to Colin. “Did you see your mum like you planned?”

“No, I—” Colin paused. “I mean, Iwentto see her, but…no. I didn’t. See her.”

“Was she not well?”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, she’s well all right. Well enough to be discharged, in fact.”

“Splendid.”

“Yesterday, in fact. Without telling her family, in fact.”

Andrew’s gut did a slow roll. “You mean she just—she—”

“Did a runner, aye.”

“My God. So you’ve no idea where she’s gone?”

“I know where she’s gone. Look, it’s really loud here. Can we talk Monday when I come to yours?”

Colin’s flat tone worried Andrew. “Are you all right? Do you want me to come back to Glasgow? It’s a few hours’ drive, but I’m sober—I have to be, or I’ll forget the steps—so I could be on the road—”

“No, you’re the last person I—” Colin stopped himself. “Sorry. I don’t mean that. I don’t mean anything, just…I’ll see you.” He hung up.

Andrew kept the phone pressed to his ear, as if doing so would maintain the connection between them. He shouldn’t haveofferedto come home, he should have just done it. Now he’d spend the rest of the night feeling helpless.

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