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“Cracker,” Finn responded. “Lovin’ his job, which is a nice change.”

The relief on his features had been apparent for months now, especially as his dad began to pay back the money Finn had given him.

“Don’t even bother protestin’ me payin’ you back, son,” his dad had said. “This is rightfully your money. Just use it for plane tickets to visit Maisie, here.” Then he’d smiled at Maisie warmly and moved to help Niamh in the kitchen.

Maisie had loved every second she’d spent with the O’Meara’s and couldn’t wait to get to know them even better, especially in working alongside Mrs. O’Meara with the new licensing agreement for her stew.

As the meal wound down, and as Cedric paid for the enormous bill—despite the protests from all the men—the conversation shifted to the game ahead.

“You ready to play, Ced?” Finn asked.

“I’ve never been more ready for anythin’,” Cedric said in his lilting, Welsh accent. He extended his card to the waitress, gave her a wink, then leaned back in his seat. “The last ten months have been the longest of my life.”

“But your ACL’s healed,” Graham said. “That’s what’s most important.”

“Right,” Cedric agreed. “But it was fine months ago.” He sighed with frustration, visibly trying to let it go. “Anyway, I’m goin’ to make up for lost time, you can be sure of that.”

“Five goals?” Finn teased.

“Fifteen,” Cedric upped. They laughed, knowing the score would be impossible to achieve in the Premier League.

“And the media,” Matthew asked next, “they’ve backed off, haven’t they?”

“’Course they have,” Finn said. “They’re callin’ him England’s greatest comeback in the last two decades.”

Maisie listened to the boys chat with a smile on her face. She’d heard all about how the media and Cedric’s fans had turned on him when he’d first sustained an injury, but now that he was back on the pitch, they had high hopes that he would bring his team to win the entire league.

“Well, whatever happens,” Cedric began, “with the media’s support or not, I’ll be winnin’ the game for Habergham today, mark my words.”

With that, their meal ended. Cedric left for Old Trafford—the stadium they’d be watching him play in that night—while the others wandered around Manchester, stopping in a few shops to pass the time before the match.

As they meandered, with Graham, Matthew, and Winnie in front of them, Finn took Maisie’s hand again and smiled down at her. “Are you happy, love?”

She sighed. “Mmm. Very happy.”

“’Course you are,” Finn said, puffing out his chest. “How could you not be, walkin’ ’round with your muscle-less man?”

She laughed. “I’m more into height than muscles anyway,” she said.

“Fortunately for you,” he said. “Although, I am cheatin’ with these trainers givin’ me a wee boost.”

She peered down at his shoes, having gifted them to him for his birthday in October. “How are you liking those Kiziks?”

“Ach, they’re magical, aren’t they? Don’t know how I lived without ’em.”

“See?” she said knowingly. “I told you you’d love them.”

“I do. Almost as much as I love you.” He winked down at her. “So have you filled in your notebook with what we just ate?”

She shook her head. “I’ll do it tonight.”

He was silent for a minute. “And have you added another entry about me yet?”

She laughed. Finn had given her a new notebook a few weeks ago when hers had officially been filled to the brim. Since then, he had yet to stop pestering her about adding another entry on him.

“I told you already, you’re not wiggling your way into this one.”

“Ach, why not?” he complained.