She wraps her arm around my waist before tipping her head back and smiling. “Is this okay? I know we haven’t really talked about it, but you called me your girlfriend to that whiny whino.”
Amused at her description of Chelsea, I reassure her, “This isn’t the crowd you have to worry about.”
She murmurs, “I know.”
“Then why…”
“Because I’m not afraid for the world to know I’m with the most incredible man in the world.”
Stunned by her words, I don’t even have time to react to them before we approach doors that vibrate with the roar of the crowd. I hold out my badge; Maya does the same.
The young usher brightens. “Mr. Walsh, welcome. Your seats are just ahead. Block 228, Row A. Right on the fifty. Let me escort you there.”
Maya holds my hand as we follow her down the carpeted stairs. She leans forward while we wait for a couple to pass by and teases, “Not bad seats for Wembley. Think we could get tickets to a concert here?”
Knowing I’ll do anything for this woman, I promise, “We’ll look into it.”
Finally, we’re standing in front of our seats, and there it is. The field’s stripes perfectly cut, making landscapers everywhere jealous. Players are running warmup drills. The crowd is feeding off its own energy as more support for both teams pours in as the clock ticks down to kick off.
Maya is practically bouncing with excitement. “This has such a different energy than any other game I’ve ever been to.”
I watch her instead of the field when I respond. “Yeah. It does.”
The way her blue eyes glow, the way her breath catches, she understands my meaning as we sit in our seats and she leans back and slips her arm beneath mine to get closer to me.
That’s when I catch the first phone pointed in our direction out of the corner of my eye from the next section over and one row up. I mutter a curse under my breath.
Maya’s head snaps around. “Is everything okay?”
My jaw is tight. “I was hoping we could enjoy ourselves without being bothered today.”Without reminding you of what you went through with Bryceis left unspoken but lies between us.
That’s when Maya shocks me. She reaches up and cups my cheek. “Let them take their pictures, Troy. I didn’t fly to London with my boyfriend to hide that from the world.”
She turns back toward the field. Before I can figure out a way to get out of the stupor from Maya calling me her boyfriend, the national anthems ring out. Maya stands next to me, her fingers brushing mine. I focus on the flags, but my pulse is rocketing from her touch.
Once kickoff happens, Maya and I cheer for the Lightning in equal measure. It feels just like it does when we’re doing it in front of my television back atTenuta delle Ombre. At one point, the crowd erupts when her ex-imbecile throws a perfect forty-yard completion for a touchdown. I jump to my feet along with everyone else before I realize,Oh, shit.
I’m cheering for the man who broke her.
When I hazard a glance in her direction, I’m astounded to find Maya full-out laughing at me. She’s slumped in her chair, grinning. “I’m going to text your mother this picture of you.”
Relieved, and a little terrified of what the picture looks like, I try to snatch her phone from her. “You’re supposed to be watching the game; not me.”
She holds it away from me with a sassy grin. “You’re more interesting. We’re crushing the Colonials despite the awful refs.”
Shaking my head, I lean forward and press a brief kiss against her lips.
The rest of the half is spent like that. Between plays, I catch the occasional fan lifting their phone in our direction. My name is murmured reverently. Normally, I’d pass it off as nothing. But today, with Maya by my side, I’m concerned it’s going to turn into something more.
She seems less concerned than I am. After I go for drinks, we’re snuggled together when both our phones buzz at the same time.
I set down her pint while Maya pulls up the link. Resigned, I ask, “They got us; didn’t they?”
“Yep.” She pops the “P.” “We even have hashtags.”
“We do?”
“Let’s see. There’s #GoTroyAndMaya, #MayaAndTroyMoments #MayaAndTroyFalling, and my personal favorite, #MayaAndTroyEndgame.”
