Lucas waits until the last man is in the debrief circle before he tut-tuts. “Four exclusion fouls, people. That’s four too many.”

We fake remorse the best we can. But we know that, in truth, the coach is happy with the game and proud of us. No amount of tut-tutting can disguise the glee in his eyes.

“Jean-Michel, Denis, your sprints need work, but good effort there.” He turns to Zach. “Very good effort.”

Zach—our center forward responsible for two of the exclusion fouls—wipes the pretend guilt off his face and grins.

“If you guys can stay committed,” Lucas says, “you’ll peak right in time for the national championship.”

“We’re totally committed, Coach,” Zach says.

“We’ll do what it takes,” Denis chimes in.

Valentin, Jean-Michel and the rest of the team shout things like “Hell, yeah!” and “You can count on us!”

“That’s the spirit.” Lucas turns to me. “Great job with the saves, Noah. Perfect. Technically, tactically—you nailed it. Give me more of the same in the championship and LEN Cup games, and I’ll be a happy camper.”

Lucas no longer bothers to hide how happy he is. And so he should be. The squad is in great shape. For the first time since Lucas started the club, we’re truly ready to fight for gold medals, both French and European. That we just won a scrimmage game against one of the country’s best clubs, annihilating them like they were a college team, is no stroke of luck.

“OK, back into the water now!” Lucas blows his whistle. “Chop, chop! Thirty minutes of shooting, followed by thirty minutes of strokes and lunges.”

Valentin shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s my mom’s birthday today. I was hoping to leave in time for the family dinner.”

“Do you want that gold medal—yes or no?” Lucas gives our defender a hard stare.

“Yes,” he mutters.

Lucas jerks his chin at the pool.

Valentin nods resignedly and jumps in.

When the workout is over, the team—minus Valentin—head to the nearest bar for the customary drink. Zach comes along, too. He’s never available in the evening, so I look forward to chatting with him.

Call me a fanboy, but the guy is one of a kind.

Just a few years my senior, he’s so together it’s unbelievable. In the field, he’s efficient and generous. Even though he’s our hole player, count on Zach to go for an assist over a direct shot, if he believes the team would have a better chance of scoring that way. In addition to being our top scorer and team captain, he also runs a successful e-commerce business and raises a special-needs kid.

Alone.

Maybe he’s found the secret to bending space-time.

“How much do you sleep at night?” I ask Zach after everyone has settled around our usual table and Lucas has ordered a round of drinks.

“Six hours,” Zach says. “Why?”

I shrug. “I just don’t see how you can do all of the things you do and find time to sleep.”

“I have help.”

“Dobby?”

He chuckles. “Nanny. She’s the one who looks after Sam from eight thirty to six. So I can play water polo and operate my business.”

“I see.”

A crease appears between his brows. “Thing is… I know it’s selfish, but I do wish she didn’t have kids of her own.”

“Are you into her?”

“No!” He laughs. “She’s married and she’s in my employ. So no way. It’s just… If Sam had a live-in nanny, my mornings would be a lot less stressful. And I could go out in the evenings, maybe even date someone.”

“How long has it been since you—”

“Long,” he cuts in before I can finish.

“You should contact an au pair agency,” I say.

Zach shakes his head. “Mathilde has been with Sam for the past three years. She’s doing a great job, and Sam is attached to her. The only way I’m hiring an au pair is if she quits, which I hope she won’t.”

Lucas raises his glass. “Here’s to Nageurs de Paris, the best water polo club in France! Let’s prove it to the rest of the country this year!”

Everyone cheers and chugs their drinks.

Zach turns to me. “What’s up with you? Last time we talked, you were mad at your oldest brother for bugging you, and hoped your childhood friend would get her French visa.”

“I’m still mad and still hoping,” I say with a sigh. “Just as it looked like Sebastian might have given up, his wife took over. She writes letters to me. What do you make of that?”

Zach grins. “Like, real letters? On paper?”

“Yep. And she encloses photos with them.”

“Of what?”

“Family gatherings. Portraits of my brothers and their babies. That sort of stuff.”

Zach gives me a funny look, like he wants to say something but doesn’t dare. I told him about my fucked-up family months ago. He knows I was born a d’Arcy du Grand-Thouars de Saint-Maurice. He knows why I prefer to go by Maman’s maiden name and why I won’t talk to my brothers.

So why that look?

“Don’t you think…” He hesitates. “Don’t you think your family deserves a second chance? Don’t you want to meet your nephew and niece?”

“They’re cute in Diane’s photos—but no, thanks. I want nothing to do with the d’Arcys.”

“What about your friend’s visa?” Zach asks, clearly sensing that a change of topic is in order.

I roll my eyes. “The French consulate in Nepal is taking its sweet time.”

“I can’t imagine she’s a security threat.”

“Just the usual red tape,” I say with a dismissive wave. “But my mother is pushing for her protégée, and my mother doesn’t give up until she gets what she wants.”

“That explains your brothers’ doggedness,” Zach says. “It runs in the family.”

As much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point.

“It’s kind of your mom to take an unrelated young woman under her wing,” Zach says. “She’s covering all the expenses, right?”

I nod. “Strictly speaking, it’s the Marguerite Masson Foundation, of which she’s the founding CEO.”

“Respect.”

“She loves Uma,” I say. “You see, Maman always wanted to have a girl, but she had three boys instead.”

“I never wanted to have anything.” Zach lifts his eyes to the ceiling. “But, thank you, Lord, for giving me a boy. Girls are the sweetest thing, except I wouldn’t know what to do with one.”

I smile. “Uma is certainly sweet, but she has a backbone and an independent streak. She plans to find a job as soon as she gets here so she can repay Maman.”

“Good for her.”

“She’s willing to wash dishes in a restaurant, clean houses, anything. I’m keeping my eyes open for announcements.”

“I’ll do the same.” Zach glances at his watch. “Got to go. Mathilde has granted me two extra hours, but my time’s up.”

He fist-bumps the players, shakes hands with Lucas, and heads out the door.

The rest of us stay for another hour, speculating about which club we’ll be playing against in the first round of the national games. We also discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the top clubs and their players.

Barring Lucas, I’m the go-to guy on the attackers’ preferred shooting techniques, since I spend several hours a week studying them on tape.

As a goalie, you have to.

But the moment I leave the bar, my neurons settle into a new formation, and all I can think of on the ride home is Sophie’s text message. My new landlady has found an error in the lease agreement. She wants to discuss it and sign a new contract. Is this a pretext to raise the rent? Or to get rid of me so she can occupy the apartment herself?

My gut tells me there’s more to her initiative than just correcting a spelling mistake in the agreement. And I’m going to find out tomorrow if I’m right.

The weird thing is that I look forward to her visit more than I’m apprehensive about it. Actually, “look forward” is an understatement. I’m thrilled. There’s this wild idea that’s formed in the most primitive part of my brain. I’ve been trying to dismiss it as wishful thinking—and failing miserably.

What if the sexiest woman to walk the earth has invented an error in the agreement so she can see me again?

What if I’m not the only one who nearly lost it from our brief physical contact the other day? What if Sophie felt the same way and has been lusting after me ever since?

That’s preposterous. I know.

And yet I doubt I’ll be able to sleep tonight.