“One more try and they have it,” Amara squeals, clutching onto her beer even though there’s nothing left of it since she’s been chugging them down like a mad woman, along with the rest of the stadium.
I’ve pretty much stopped drinking in support of Lachlan. Maybe I’ll have some wine when it’s a girl’s night with Amara at her place, but when I’m with Lachlan I’m as sober as a jaybird. It doesn’t really have an effect on my life, it’s just something I need to do for him and I do it without him asking. Because I want to. Because he would do anything for me.
Amara has become a good friend though. She’s actually a lot like me, totally opinionated and speaking her mind, even though her love life is a bit lackluster. Still, Lachlan and I are always trying to set her up with some rugby player of the moment and I don’t think she can complain too much about that. Naturally, she still does.
Of course I talk to Nicola and Steph all the time, so I don’t feel like I’ve lost them at all. They both want to come out and visit with Linden and Bram but…well, there’s a complication now.
Stephanie is pregnant.
I know, I’m sad about it in a totally selfish way because it means that she’s moving onto a part of her life that I can’t relate to and I’m afraid that our relationship will change. But at the same time, it’s Steph. She’s always going to have my back, no matter what, and I know I can always be real with her. And really, she’s just so happy that she and Linden are going to be parents that her excitement is contagious. It’s enough that I’m buying every Scottish baby item I can find, including the tiniest little kilt in the MacGregor tartan. I figure girl, or boy, it’s wearable.
Either way, Stephanie is going to be an excellent mom and I can’t wait to see what kind of terribly attractive human being she’s going to pop out. I think I’ll have to fly back to San Francisco just for that.
I’m also in constant contact with my all of my brothers. In fact, I’m far closer with them than I ever was before and I think that wherever my mother is hanging out with my father that they’re probably happy that we’ve all finally found each other.
The people beside us start chanting something in favor of Edinburgh as the teams come together in the field. We watch as the scrum takes place, Edinburgh pushing Munster back until Thierry gets the ball at the back of the players and quickly tosses it under to another guy who then tosses it to Lachlan who is waiting in the wings.
Lachlan makes a run for it, the ball under his arm, even though the other team has players going for him, watching his every move. They’re always on him like a hawk.
But they never have his speed.
Watching him run is as impressive to me now as the first time I ever saw him on the field. He moves with such passion that you can’t help but compare him to a wild stallion or a feral bull, galloping toward freedom, moving like he was born to move.
I hold my breath as goes. So does everyone.
A player goes to tackle but Lachlan makes a move to sidestep before changing his mind and then plows through them. The guy goes down and Lachlan keeps running, legs and arms pumping, carrying him along so fast you think he’s going to break the sound barrier. He’s a hot blur of ink and muscle.
Someone else moves in front, blocking him, but Lachlan only bounces off and keeps going. He punts the ball down the field, side steps someone else, then keeps running until he meets up with the ball again.
By now we’re all screaming, on our feet, waving everything we can wave because he’s feet from making a try and winning the game.
And Lachlan just picks up that ball like it was always there waiting for him and runs across the line, making a dramatic dive onto the grass and sliding on his stomach. I know that was just for show but the crowd fucking loves it.
I fucking love it.
It’s rare to see him showboat so I know he’s got to be feeling good right now.