All at once, the noise quietens, and everything calms, except my heartbeat.
I wish I could say I was immune to her, but now I know what Alex meant earlier. After six years of no contact, it’s astounding how quickly my heart has remembered her, and keeping my distance becomes more impossible every day.
“Hey,” she breathes out, landing a playful punch on my shoulder. “Congratulations, champ. What a match. I’m regretting never watching you play before.”
Her smile is so broad, and I stare into the warmth of her eyes. “Can’t be right all the time.”
“Eh . . .” She laughs, turning to Max. “How’s it going? Having fun?”
“Where’s Oxford?” Max asks, though it’s more of a demand.
“He’s gone home now. It’s a long day for him to be out in the cold.”
“I could bring him a blanket next time if you like?” He smiles, and my heart grows ten times in the process. Especially when Story looks at me, her face screwing up to say “He’s the sweetest” and I’m so fucking proud to be his father.
“That’s so kind. I’m sure he’d love that.”
A big arm falls around my shoulder. “Hen, ready to come and meet your fans?” drawls Miles, turning to Story. “Hello, Story. It’s good to see you here. Thank you for coming to support us today.”
I’m not sure who’s more surprised, me or . . .
“You’re welcome, Miles. Happy to be here. Well played today. Excellent polo skills and all that.”
“Thank you, Story. I appreciate it.”
Maybe Miles is already drunk. Perhaps they both are, because I’m the only one who’s finding this interaction both weird and rare.
“Hen. . . coming?”
I nod, bemused. “Hey Maxy, can you stay with Miss MacIntosh while I’m awarded our trophy?”
Max takes her outstretched hand, and we walk up to the platform where Holiday, Lando, and Alex are waiting.
“What was that?” I whisper to Miles as we step up.
“What?”
“You know what.”
“Just being friendly to our supporters.”
Cameras flash violently the moment Holiday joins us, handing over the trophy to Miles, the captain of our team. We stand against the press boards and pose for pictures. We laugh. We pop the champagne, and mostof Alex’s bottle sprays onto Miles. And then, before everyone departs, Miles announces that we’ve raised over fifty thousand pounds for our local hospice, the chosen recipient of the match this year.
Alex grabs Miles’s neck, pulls him in, and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Well done, Milo. Good work today. Proud of you, mate.”
I’m giving it until supper for their truce to last, and decide to leave them to their love fest, and return to Max and Story. I’m now free. I have the whole afternoon to do exactly what I want. And what I want is to spend it with Story.
“Shall we go get a drink?”
Story nods and smiles. “I’d love to.”
I hold my hand out to Max, who’s charging around in front of us, riding his polo mallet. “Come on, polo player, let’s go.”
Max is less enthused about going to the bar. “Where’s Granny? She said we could go to the stables.”
“I’m not sure.”
Max tugs on my arm. “Let’s find her. Please. I want to see Chester.”
