Michael Sterling woke up in his new bedroom at The Summit. The giant bed was soft like a cloud. He looked at the ceiling. It was quiet. No construction noise. No Arthur Milton eating toast.
He turned his head. Sarah was already awake. She was sitting up reading a book about baby names.
"Good morning old man," Sarah smiled.
Michael rubbed his eyes.
"Old man?" Michael asked. "I am thirty two. That is young for a manager. Roy Hodgson is seventy five."
"Happy Birthday Michael," Sarah said. She leaned over and kissed him.
Michael froze. He checked his mental calendar. August 24th.
"I forgot," Michael admitted. "I was thinking about the Fiorentina game."
"You always think about the next game," Sarah said. "But today you have to think about cake. And relaxing."
"Relaxing is hard," Michael said sitting up. "I have to go to the training ground. I need to check the medical report on Erik legs."
