“Why aren’t you asking Ebony? Isn’t this her wheelhouse?”
“Ebony is very busy overlooking the general publication of the newspaper.” His eyes twinkled. “Your personal relationship with Sebastian and Dylan, plus your son’s attendance, gives you a leg up here. As do your writing skills.”
Oh.
Oh, okay.
“I would be honored to,” I responded honestly. “How long is the assignment for?”
“I would like the entire edition pulled together within two weeks. Is that doable?”
“My son’s father is coming at the end of this week, I think,” I said slowly. “And he’s having him the entire weekends, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Plus I know my uncle will help me if I need him to.”
“Good news. Sydney already knows, so stop by his office this afternoon after two o’clock to discuss with him. We’d like photos of the classes but we need signed permission from the parents to feature their children in case their faces are on show. Can you handle that?”
I nodded. “I’ll ask the admin team to have the releases drawn up and speak to Sebastian about it.”
“Excellent. You can take your lunch now. And thank you for all your hard work.”
My cheeks flushed a little. “Thank you, Mr. Chester. I really appreciate this opportunity.”
“Just don’t let me down.” He winked, then turned to his computer, effectively ending our meeting.
“I’ll try not to,” I replied quietly, slipping out of the office into the hallway. I closed the door behind me and skirted a few feet away around the corner where I could lean against the wall and take a deep breath.
A whole paper special?
All done by me?
Holy shit.
“What did he want?” Ebony appeared out of nowhere, shooting daggers at me.
“Just a new assignment.” I smiled, pushing off the wall. “Excuse me, I have to meet my friend for lunch.”
I left on that note, leaving her glaring after me.
Nothing new there, then.
***
“Hold your arms out,” Oliver said in his crisp British accent, taking hold of Leo’s wrists and positioning them in front of them. “This is your ready position, okay? Feel how easy it is to move your hands to where they need to be. Copy me.”
Oliver moved his arms in every which way possible as he guided Leo to follow him.
“If you know the ball is coming at you, you want to be as ready as possible.”
Leo nodded. “I got it. Okay. Try again.”
Oliver pushed his ginger-brown hair from his eyes and waved over one of the kids who played in a striker position and was damn good. “Tom, I want you to do some practice shots with Leo, okay? You did really well over on the target practice, so I want you to do the same here. I’ll put some targets in the goal.”
“Sure!” Tom bounded over with a football. “I’m gonna get you, Leo.”
My kid laughed and shook his head. “No way!”
Oliver chuckled as he attached four big red circles to the goal. “All right, all right, settle down. You’re both seven years old, you’re not Tyson Fury. Let’s cut the big man talk.”
“It’s more fun this way!” Leo insisted, looking to his coach. “Who’s Tyson Fury?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“A British boxer who talks a bunch of baloney about everyone he fights.” Oliver stepped back.
That was the politest way anyone had ever said ‘shit-talking’ in their lives.
“Are you two ready?”
They nodded.
“Go.”
Tom got to it, kicking the ball at the goal. Leo got his fingertips on it and only just managed to stop it going in the goal.
“Fantastic, Leo!” Oliver said, clapping his hands as he walked behind the goal. “More of that, boys!” He grabbed the soccer ball and kicked it back to Tom, then walked over to me.
“He’s doing good,” I said with a smile.
“He is. He’s the best we have in this group for the tournament next weekend.” Oliver grinned at me. “Clean his gloves, Mum. He’s in goal.”
I laughed, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Well, I hope he plays well. His dad will be here.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“For Leo. Not particularly enjoyable for me,” I admitted. “Either way, it doesn’t matter.”
“Ah. I get it. Great goal, Tom!”
“Hogwash!” Leo said, punching the air.
“We’ve been watching Harry Potter.” I winced.
Oliver laughed, folding his arms over his chest. “I’ve heard worse, let me tell you.”
I was sure he had.
“Hey, so I actually wanted to—”
“There’s my favorite reporter!” Seb appeared out of nowhere and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I hear I’m to defer to you in all things for the next week or so.”
“I prefer journalist,” I replied. “And I’m not sure you need to defer, but cooperation would be helpful.”
“I’m missing something,” Oliver interjected, looking out at the boys. “What are you deferring to her about?”
“The paper is doing a special edition on the sports center. I may or may not have made a donation to the charity Mr. Chester’s wife runs a few weeks ago.”