“Not just recently. I admit, I studied you long before we knew each other. Who has the most one-to-one sessions with the coaches? Who spends the most time watching back footage, critically assessing plays, trying to figure out where they went wrong?”
She buries her face in my chest when she realizes I’m not bullshitting. I have actually paid attention to her, to her game, her skills. Like I’ve said before, she’s hard to ignore.
“Exactly. You might be the most glorified position in terms of fame, pressure, and attention on the field. But you’re also the most hardworking behind the scenes. No matter what the internet says about you.”
Since we got together, the initial honeymoon phase of people being happy for us kind of blended into a weird mix of those thrilled at how Rhiannon is handling herself and those who want to see her fail. See us fail.
Most people are thrilled she stood up for herself against George at the altar, how she didn’t back down when theRuck Offpodcast made her look like a shark who’s out for her own ends—she gave an interview to another podcast as a “fuck you” and set the record straight like a queen. And surprisingly, they’re all thrilled she “followed her heart,” and not her father’s loathing and started dating me.
Nearly every day, the PR manager forwards her fan mail: young girls who want to be just like her when they grow up, and mothers writing to say thank you for being a strong and good role model for their daughters.
By contrast, the haters aren’t quiet about it either. Nomatter where she is, what she does or wears, they all have an opinion about it, and they need to share it at all times.
They have gone back through her career and found every mistake she’s ever made, thrown it under a magnifying glass, and used the internet as an amplifier to trash her. I never see people shredding male athletes the way they come for women. My privilege protects me from a lot but being by Rhiannon’s side through this… it’s not easy to watch. I’m not sure how she’s coping.
It takes its toll on her, even if she says it doesn’t. “I want to show them all of you. The you beyond running the attack, calling plays, and kicking for goal. You’re more than the hot one with a sharp tongue.” I wink at her. “Fast reflexes, and a tortured soul.”
She jerks her head up.
“You’re more than a pretty face who can run the backline like a maestro with a death wish. And I’d like the world to know that, too.”
“I don’t know that I’d agree with most of that.”
That figures. She’s hardest on herself over everyone, except maybe her father.
“I’m also not sure that I’m okay with showing my soft underbelly to everyone, Robert. You’re different. This is different. People out there, they can be so cruel.” She shudders, so I pull her tighter to me.
“Okay, but to play devil’s advocate… what about all the positive messages you’ve received from women about how brave and inspirational you were to leave George the way you did? And after your podcast? You had so many positive messages from young women wanting to go into the sport.”
“I know.” She sighs, tickling my nipple with a puff of air. “I’ll think about it.” She kisses me. “What I will say is, if anyone’s going to write a story about me, I’d rather it was you.”
I pull her onto my chest and kiss her deeply. “That made me all warm and fuzzy inside.”
She shakes her head. “You’re such a romantic.”
Nudging her nose, I nod. “It’s one of the many, many things you love about me.”
“For a man who’s never had a long-term relationship, I am a little dubious that you’re such a perfect boyfriend when you’ve no experience being one.” She’s not wrong, but it still pinches at my heart thatthat’swhere her mind went.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” I shrug. “It’s easy to be a good partner when you’re in a relationship with such a great girlfriend.”
She rolls her eyes before falling silent, staring into my eyes for a long beat.
“What is it?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure my relationship with my dad would survive another story, Robert.”
“Sometimes a disruption can lead to a stronger relationship in the future.” I tilt my head to the side. “And you don’t want to hear this…”
“But?”
“But, not all relationships are supposed to survive.” It’s a tough lesson to learn, but I’m not wrong. “Just because he’s a blood relative doesn’t mean he can treat you like dirt. Or that you have to put up with it.”
“Ouch.” She drops her head to mine. “You’re right. I don’t want to hear that.”
“Trust in who you are and what you do. And meanwhile, I’ll start drafting a story that tells the world you wear lucky knickers at every game to remember where you’ve come from.”
She pokes my ribs. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
