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... owl of salad that the twins had attacked before anyone sat down. Kristin poured water and nudged a phone off the table with a look. The youngest, their daughter, swung her legs and hummed a tune from an old club song. Outside, the sky over the Mersey held the last thin stripes of evening.

Zachary watched them with the kind of quiet you earn. He was already forty-three, retired, and finally allowed to breathe without counting the days to the next match. He lifted his glass and clinked it ...

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Eh? What’s this? Well fine! This time I’m gonna hug that brother’s thigh real tight and never let go!

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