“I am capable of doing that.” I knew some of my teammates would just move to another bed and have their housekeeper sort out messy sheets, but even though we’d had a housekeeper – who was more of a friend of my mum’s who didn’t have a great time and needed extra income – I had to clean my own room, change my own bed and do my laundry.
I also liked clean sheets and for the bed to be made a particular way.
“I got them messy. It’s my blood on them.”
I shrugged, standing up. “There’s probably my jizz on them too from the wet patches. It’s blood, Neva. Not some toxic substance. I’ll get clean sheets on while you’re in the bath.”
“Thank you.” She brushed away a loose tear. “Seriously, you’re amazing.”
I grinned, taking the compliment and loving it, trying to not read too much into it. “Want a cup of tea too?”
She nodded.
I was taking this as a step in the right direction, even though we’d had a disappointment.
We’d spent that Sunday mainly in bed, watching old Christmas films and catching up on last night’s celebrity dancing programme. We’d also planned our trip to Amsterdam, the trip we were now on.
The boat we were sat on was shrouded in the night, the lights onboard deliberately mostly dark. We were about to set off on a boat tour of the Light Festival, seeing light art installations that’d been put up around the canals and harbour.
We’d only landed a couple of hours ago, both of us only having carry-on luggage as we were only here for three nights. The hotel had picked us up from the airport, one of the benefits of being a footballer, and we’d pretty much just checked out our room and headed out.
The Christmas markets were on, and I’d wanted to go on this tour as well, not managing to stop talking about it during the plane ride.
Neva had listened, asked a few questions and then lifted her eyes from her e-reader a few times when I repeated the same information. I rubbed at my nose and tried to keep myself in check, but I knew I’d only relax when I was on the boat.
Which I was now.
Neva pressed close to me. She’d probably say it was because she was cold, but I figured it had more to do with being somewhere we weren’t surrounded with people we knew.
“It’s so pretty.” She focused on the display we were sailing past. “It feels like magic.”
“It does.” I wasn’t sure I was referring to the same thing. Not exactly. “I feel like I should take photos but I don’t want to.”
“Why?” She glanced at me, puzzled.
“Because I just want this to be in my head, exactly how I remember it.”
Her laugh was soft. “I get what you mean. There, look at that one.”
We spent the rest of the cruise pointing out the lights and other buildings, exchanging whispers about the couple opposite us who’d clearly had an argument.
When the cruise ended, we headed over to the Christmas markets, Neva’s mittened hand in mine – she’d forgotten her gloves so I picked up a pair from the first stall we’d found selling them – and spent an hour drinking mulled wine and looking over what was being sold. I picked up a wooden penis keyring for Jesse as I’d ended up with him for my Secret Santa for the second year in a row. This year I was getting him a box of dicks, possibly from Amsterdam, which meant they’d be an interesting situation if my luggage was searched.
We walked over the bridge with all the padlocks on it, posing for a selfie like everybody did, Neva now wearing a bobble hat because it was cold and she’d under packed.
We headed back to the hotel slightly tipsy from mulled wine and giddy from the lights and a Christmassy feeling from all the lights and decorations. The concierge gave us an amused look as we worked out where the lifts were, Neva’s hat skew-whiff on her head, her dark hair poking out from underneath. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her nose not far off Rudolph’s at the end.
I wrapped my arms around her as soon as the lift doors closed, pulling her close to me and bent my head down to steal a kiss.
I didn’t expect her to be reticent. The day – even the flight over – had been as perfect as it got and it’d felt like a date, the sort of date where I might’ve been considering proposing or something along those lines.
What we were actually trying to do was a lot longer commitment than any marriage had.
Neva’s lips were cold at first, warming up as the kiss took hold. The lift ride was short, ending either too soon or not soon enough. I wasn’t sure I wanted the kiss to end, but I wanted to be in our room soon. We’d said we’d walk around the red-light district tomorrow, maybe go in a few places, but I had no desire to put on our own live sex show. I didn’t want anyone seeing Neva like I did.
And I didn’t want Genny’s wrath tomorrow if we were papped and ended up in the press.
“Come on.” I practically ran her back to our room. “Before we make a scene.”
