I’m then moving down the steps, through the crowd and toward him. I don’t even register how I get there properly, just that suddenly I’m close, close enough to see him clearly, close enough that when he turns and spots me, everything else seems to fade slightly again. There’s no hesitation. He comes straight toward me. And then…I’m off the ground. He lifts me like it’s nothing, spinning me around once, twice, my hands gripping his shoulders as I let out a surprised laugh, the world blurring slightly around us.
“Hi,” he says, breathless but grinning.
“Hi,” I laugh, my heart racing.
He sets me down slowly, but his hands don’t leave my waist straight away, like he’s not quite ready to let go.
“You were incredible,” I say, soaking in his deliciously sweaty looks.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There’s a moment where we just look at each other, everything else falling away again despite the noise, the movement, the people around us. And then someone calls his name. He glances over.
“Interview,” he mutters.
I nod. “Go.”
“I’ll be back.”
“I know.”
I step back slightly, watching as he moves toward the cameras, the microphones, the part of this world that still feels a bit surreal to me. He answers the first few questions easily, the usual things, the game, the team, the win. And then…
“Biggest win of your life?” someone asks.
He pauses for a second and his eyes flick up, straight to mine. “Honestly?” he says.
The interviewer nods. He huffs out a small breath, shaking his head slightly. “Biggest win of my life isn’t this,” he says.
The crowd behind the camera quiets slightly, like they’re trying to catch every word.
“It’s having something real to go home to.”
I smile, he’s still looking at me. And for a second, everything else disappears because those words were for me. Heat rushes through me, something warm and overwhelming and completely undeniable, my hand instinctively lifting to my wrist, to the bracelet, to that small, solid reminder of everything we’ve just stepped into. As he finishes the interview and starts walking back toward me, that same look still in his eyes, I realise that this isn’t just his world anymore. It’s ours.
Chapter sixty-seven
Rory
I’m still replaying the moment I lifted her up in the stadium when we walk through her front door, the feel of her arms around my shoulders, the way she laughed like she wasn’t even thinking about who was watching, like it was just us, and I don’t think I’ve ever walked off a pitch feeling like that before.
I flop down onto her sofa and when I turn back toward her she’s already watching me, leaning slightly against the wall, her fingers absently tracing over the bracelet at her wrist.
“You alright?” I ask, softer now that it’s just us.
She nods. “Yeah… I think it’s just all catching up with me.”
“Good catching up or bad catching up?”
Her lips curve slightly. “Good.”
I stand and step towards, not rushing it, not closing the space too quickly, just enough that I can steady her.
“You were unreal today,” she says quietly.
I shake my head. “You’ve said that already.”
