Natasha is blonde and model gorgeous with a killer sense of humor. We get along so fucking well it’s not even funny. Even though she’s pushing her baby Ramona in the stroller, she’s definitely one of those “cool moms” without even trying to be.
Bram and Linden pile out of their chairs, engulfing Brigs with a double-whammy hug, while I quickly embrace Natasha and lead her over to the girls.
They’d all met before at my wedding (if I remember correctly, we got in a lot of trouble during my stag party, which just proves how easily Natasha fits in with our group), and already they seem to be acting like they’re old friends.
We all sit down, order more beers, while the kids crawl around us. True seems fascinated with baby Ramona (though not in an evil way for once), and Ava, well, Ava is a smart girl and keeps her head buried in a book.
Soon the round of beers turns into another round of beers, and when I’m starting to feel pretty buzzed, I take a look around the pub and notice we’re the only ones in here.
“Guys, I think we drove everyone else away!” I cry out. I don’t blame them, we’re being especially loud and obnoxious, with someone laughing at any given moment.
“Aye, don’t worry about it,” the bartender yells at us. “They were no fun. I think you might need a free round of shots.”
“Woo hoo!” Linden yells, arms raised in the air like he just scored a touchdown. “Shots, shots, shots, shots.”
Ava looks up from her book and rolls her eyes, clearly embarrassed by everyone. Thankfully it’s normal in Scotland to have children in the pub at any given hour. They practically grow up in them.
The shots of whisky go around and we all raise our shot glasses across the table.
“Here’s to Lachlan,” I say.
“To Lachlan!” everyone else says in unison.
Bottoms up.
It’s not long after that the stragglers show up, their cousins, Mal and Maisie.
Mal is younger than most of us, I think mid-late twenties, but he’s a handsome lad like the rest of the McGregors, with some killer eyebrows that he works in a Theo James way. Maisie is just petite and sweet, brown hair, brown eyes.
I greet the both of them with a quick hug and they say hello to everyone else.
But with Lachlan’s practice coming to an end soon, we can’t afford to stay for another drink.
“Okay,” I tell them. “Last call for us. And I mean that, so drink up. We gotta go.”
The lovely thing about Lachlan’s family is that they all completely understand that he’s a recovering alcoholic and they try to support him in every way they can, which means when we have a party, there will be no drinking at all. Lachlan always says he doesn’t mind being around it, and that he can handle it, but it’s better to play it safe. He at least doesn’t mind people being drunk, which is good because I think a few of the jetlagged people are heading that way.
It takes a bit for everyone to gather their wits and their children, with Bram generously picking up the bill, and then we’re trudging through the snowy streets, the flakes still falling from the sky. Hopefully we’ll get there early enough to get ready, plus Keir and Jessica are supposed to be there any second (they live just around the corner).
I spot them standing outside of the building and wave at them.
They wave back and there it goes again, the whole hugging and slapping on the back and hey nice to see you of the reunion. Thankfully they all know time is of the essence (probably because I’ve been telling them to hurry the fuck up every five minutes during the walk. With a bunch of them drunk, it’s like trying to herd cats), and we go into the building, heading up the stairs to the flat that takes up the top floor.
Once inside, Emily and Lionel go crazy with their barking (well Emily barks, Lionel gets the zoomies and runs around), and I tell everyone to go dump their coats and shoes in the bedroom then get into their hiding places.
And then the adults try to explain to their kids once more what we’re about to do. Ava gets it, Ramona is just a baby and she’s sleeping in the stroller in the bedroom, so it’s really only True that’s being a bit of a rascal.
“True, I mean it,” Steph says to her. “When we hide, you have to be quiet. You can’t say a word, okay? No noises.”
“Okay,” True says in a sing-song voice.
Steph gives me a look like, we’re screwed.
And then I hear the front door bang shut down below.
“He’s here!” I hiss. “Everyone go to your places.”
They scramble like fighter jets.
Okay, here we go.
Two
Lachlan
Practice was a fucking bitch.
It’s not that we haven’t played through snow before, it’s just not a lot of fun. Your balls shrivel up, your chest screams, each hit and fall feels like it may just break your brittle bones.
On top of that, I made some blundering errors that really messed things up on my end and with our game next week I really need to get shit together. As the team’s captain, I don’t have an excuse.
Okay. I do have an excuse, but it’s what I don’t admit to anyone but Kayla, and that’s only because she knows me that well.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.
And also my birthday.
And I fucking dread this day like no other.
It has nothing to do with getting older, I don’t give a fuck if the line between my brows is permanently creased, if my hair is getting peppered with grey at the temples, if my body isn’t as bulletproof as it once was.
It has everything to do with what my birthday symbolizes.
The utter rejection of my soul.
I know that’s some pretty deep shit and it
