* * *
Amy isn’t at dinner and she doesn’t appear for breakfast either. I never got her room number, instead only offering her my own. I’m sure I could find out from reception but that might risk alerting Eddie or the others to the situation unnecessarily.
My mind is sick with worry about where she is, how she is. I don’t believe for a second she meant what she said, but her phone’s been switched off since that conversation. Even as she stands at the sideline at Twickenham, she won’t meet my eye.
We lose the game by thirteen points. Gareth’s shoulder pops again spectacularly; he’ll be out for the rest of the season. I spend ten minutes in the sin bin for a tackle that does nothing to relieve the rage coursing through me. Rain batters the ground but I don’t feel a thing except my internal pain. I want to do the right thing, but I don’t want to lose her.
I want to grab her by her waist and crush her heart against mine, remind her what we have is real. Remind her it’s worth fighting for, but it’s worth going the right way about it. Stuart proved yesterday that someone’s always watching or listening. I can’t afford another fuck up if I want to keep my friendshipandrelationship intact. The second we get back to Dublin I will go to her house and I will prove to her that we are more than an illicit fantasy. Actions have always spoken louder than words for us. What I feel for her is real and the time for sneaking around is over.
The flight home is quiet; the defeat hangs heavily over the team. My own personal defeat is far heavier than a bad day at the office, or pitch in our case. Rugby is my job, but Amy is my life, I need her to understand this.
The lads accept my silence as regret over a bad performance which at least allows me to wallow in peace. My eyes fix firmly on the back of Amy’s head. She sits between Aiden and a rather smug-looking Stuart and hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction all day. Her easy dismissal of us haunts my every thought.
‘Yo, Amy.’ Eddie kicks the back of her chair as if they’re in a classroom. ‘You heading to Mam and Dad’s tomorrow?’
Her spiral curls flick Stuart’s face next to her and I swear I can see the creep inhale her hair. Rage courses through me. Is it still her job she’s worried about? Or is there some underlying issue with Eddie that I’m not fully grasping? I get he’ll be pissed, but if I can explain to him, if he could just see how I feel about her, I’m certain he’ll get over it in time.
‘Yes.’ She smiles a hollow smile and I wonder how he doesn’t see straight through it. Despite her cold front, she’s hurting. Pain reflects in her glassy eyes. Eyes which dart in every direction except mine. If she wasn’t hurt, she’d be able to look. It wouldn’t be painful if she didn’t care. There’s hope for me yet.
It’s eleven p.m. by the time I reach her doorstep. I parked the Tesla four streets away on another cul-de-sac in case Stuart has already raised Eddie or anyone else’s suspicions. Knocking on the door, I wait with my heart in my mouth.
Footsteps are audible from behind the door. It creaks open and she peers out with a caution that doesn’t ease even as she realises it’s only me.
‘Can I come in?’ I’m already nudging past her.
‘This isn’t a good idea, Ollie.’ She hold her arms across her chest in a defensive stance, pushing her breasts up higher in the purple flannel nighty she wears. It’s like something my granny wouldn’t be caught dead in, yet on her it’s somehow still sexy as hell. Possibly because I’ve memorised every inch of what’s beneath it. It’s not her style at all. I wonder for a split second if her mother brought it round with the curtains. Either she wasn’t expecting me, or she’s deliberately dressed herself to project a non-sexual intention.
‘You’re trying to run at the first hurdle? I thought you triathletes had more stamina than that.’ My hands span against her waist, dipping and slipping under the hem of the flannel. She takes a step backwards but I pull her towards me, refusing to let go of her, to let go of us. Securing her to me, I run a thumb over her silky smooth flesh in a tender gesture that sends goosebumps rippling across her skin. My other hand cups her chin, forcing her gaze to meet mine for the first time in two days.
‘You were the one who ran.’ Her eyes glisten and her jaw remains tightly clenched. ‘You picked Eddie over me. You picked his feelings over mine. Everyone who gets the choice always does in the end.’
The charge between us is magnetic, powerful and urgent. Pressing her tighter against me, her feminine frame rests against my chest as my lips crash down on to hers. Her mouth parts a fraction, as though her body begs her to cave but her head is willing her not to. Taking the opportunity, my tongue slips in, gliding over hers with a tenderness that I only hope she understands. Her head rolls backwards a fraction, enough for me to know she’s submitting.
Lifting her up, I wrap her long bare legs around me, carrying her through to her sitting room, to the very sofa where we began. Between mouthfuls of her sweet gleaming flesh I remind her of everything we have, everything we are, and everything we will be.
‘Choosing anyone over you is not an option, whether it’s the queen, the pope or your brother.’ My kisses travel across her collarbone, then my fingers tug the nighty over her head to reveal her fabulous breasts. A pair of black pants is all that remains. My mouth claims her nipple and between each flick of my tongue I state my case, knowing she’s incapable of answering. This is the only way she’ll listen to me.
‘I want to do things right. I want to walk into the players’ lounge with my arms around you. I want Stuart, Eddie and every other man in the vicinity to know that you are mine – because you are mine.’ My hands drop to her thighs, parting them as my tongue dips lower over her torso, towards her naval, lowering the waistband of the cotton separating me from the only place in the world I want to be.
‘I want you in every way possible, but I want your family to be ok with this. Not because I’m choosing them over you, but because I’m choosingusover everything.’
I’ve underestimated her willpower because she pushes my chest firmly away, even as her shallow breath reverberates between us.
‘Your first concern was Eddie, not me, my job, or my feelings. You know how hard it is to be the only woman to be part of this team? You know how hard it is to earn the respect of my peers? Coach has only stopped explaining what each kick of every practice means. He’s only just beginning to appreciate that not only do I know my physio, I know my rugby too. Would he explain every pass, every tackle, if I was a man? Would Stuart pressure me into drinking with him if I was a man? I’d give it all up for you, don’t mistake me. But what pissed me off was that I thought you understood all of that, yet your first concern was Eddie.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Truly I am. ‘The truth is, I’m not worried about your job. I don’t care about that line in your contract. If it comes to it, I’ll walk with you. I’ll support you any way I can. And the only reason I put my relationship with Eddie first is because in my mind you and I are solid, unbreakable. I never have to question my feelings when I’m with you.’
She bites her lip, raising an eyebrow, her eyes straying to something else solid bulging in my too tight jeans.
‘We’ve come so far. I thought you felt the same. Losing you never even occurred to me as a possibility. Not after everything we’ve said and done.’
‘That tends to happen when Eddie is in the picture.’ Her tone has a resigned edge to it, like she’s on the verge of forgiving me.
‘It won’t happen again. But I do want to square things with him. It’s time.’
Her hazel eyes stare into mine and she offers one swift nod of the head.
‘I wasn’t joking when I said I’m going to marry you.’
