I didn’t need to ask what he meant by afterwards. I knew.
“Yes. I want to.” Because I did. This was my second night in his house and it didn’t feel strange. In the pit of my stomach I knew that come September, when our son was born, I’d want to return here, for him to have a home with his sisters and see his dad every day.
Just like I wanted to see his dad every day, too.
“Thank fuck for that.”
We cleaned up; Nate changed the bottom sheet on the mattress. He told me off for putting underwear on, so I gave in, knowing that I’d likely be woken in the morning with an orgasm, but I did put on one of his oversized T-shirts in case Zara or Libbie made an entrance.
I fell asleep wrapped in his arms again, but tonight lacked the tension of the night before. The sex hadn’t caused any blood or discomfort. I felt more relaxed than I had in weeks and when I fell asleep it was dreamless. Even the thought of that interview for the club’s website didn’t give me nightmares.
TWENTY-THREE WEEKS
Two games left until the end of the season. Or rather, one game and the twenty minutes left of this game, to go.
We were playing Everton at home. Levi Statham, the rather un-delightful man I had once thought myself half in love with, starting up front. I’d reminded Nate this morning to ignore him if Levi said anything to him, that he wasn’t worth it. Nate had smiled and nodded, then distracted me by doing that thing he was far too good at with my breasts, until the only name I was mentioning was his.
For the last week, we’d lived in some sort of dream. We’d managed a couple of nights out just the two of us; one for a meal at a quaint pub in the countryside that did amazing food, and another at Manchester’s Royal Exchange Theatre to see a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. We’d also had a dinner out with the girls, taking them to an American style burger restaurant, the result of which was Libbie being up half the night after eating too much.
My parents had also paid a quick visit, checking to see how I was and meeting the father of their grandchild. My dad had been bowled over by Nate, partly because he was likely to be England’s first choice goalkeeper at the World Cup, but also because Nate charmed the pants off him.
My mother was a little quieter, doing a lot of watching and listening, and saving her words and attention for the girls instead.
When they left, she’d only had a few words for me.“He’s a good man, and those are good children. Remember relationships aren’t easy so don’t give up at the first hurdle.”My dad had more words, mainly asking if Nate could get him tickets for the World Cup.
The first hurdle came in the seventy-ninth minute of the game. Levi had been spoiling for a fight throughout the game, trying to lure the Athletic defence into fouling him, throwing himself on the ground a couple of times to see if the ref would give him a free kick. I knew there were things being said on the pitch too, which often happened. I’d been in the treatment room with Danny when Guy had come in and absolutely battered him verbally for rising to something someone on the other team had been saying.
I’d been nervous before the game, picking up some light duties in terms of massage beforehand and trying to loosen up Rowan’s Achilles which had been giving him grief.
It was nil-nil so far, a game both teams wanted to win to secure a spot in Europe next season, although with the way other results were going, Athletic were pretty much assured of this now.
Everton pushed forward into the Athletic half, Jude managing to intercept a pass and get it away for a corner to prevent a run on goal.
Genny was on her feet, so was Neva, both trying not to yell instructions. Guy was pacing in front of the bench, shouting the instructions and gesturing wildly to Nate in goal.
Nate wasn’t paying any attention.
Levi was in his face, bending forward and clearly dropping verbal grenades at him, aimed at distracting him from how the corner was being set up.
I knew Nate had a very controlled temper. I’d seen it bubble occasionally, but his usual go to was to not say anything and let it pass, lifting heavy in the weights room afterwards or going for a run.
This time he said something. He made a gesture that I couldn’t see properly, but Genny figured was Nate accusing Levi of having a small dick. There were more words, Levi’s teammates trying to encourage him to move away, Nate backing off back into his goal, his back straight, his body language telling me he’d won whatever battle had just taken place.
The ref was still hovering around, but his presence wasn’t enough to stop Levi from turning round, breaking free from Everton’s captain who was trying to hold him back and then making a lunge for Nate with a right hook that was directed at Nate’s head.
I heard Genny yell, the crowd deafening, the ref’s whistle cutting through the noise. Levi’s punch made contact, but it didn’t seem to be enough to stop Nate from jabbing back, sending Levi straight to the pitch.
He tried to get back up, to get back to Nate, but his captain blocked him and Nate stepped away, Jesse patting him on his back, trying to talk him down.
Levi got to his feet, allowing his teammates to move him away. Nate looked at the ref, taking off his gloves and passing them to Jesse.
The crowd was turning nasty on Levi, our home supporters calling for his blood, a few chants going up that sang Nate’s name.
The card that the ref pulled out was red for both of them, Nate giving the man a nod before walking off the pitch and applauding the supporters, receiving a standing ovation as he left. Levi was arguing with the ref about the card, which would only lengthen his suspension, and probable fine from his club.
I got to my feet, wanting to follow Nate down the tunnel to the changing room.
“Don’t you want to watch Jesse in goal?” Neva grinned at me. She’d been easier in the last couple of weeks, I wasn’t sure why, but I did wonder if she was seeing someone.
