Chapter Text
Rebecca checks her phone as she feeds Claire. The task of giving the bottle to her daughter rote but always welcome at three months old. Claire's little hands open and close as she hums against the nipple of the bottle. She’s developed a bit of a personality that is all warmth and sunshine and wholly Ted, in Rebecca’s mind. She’s sure if anyone asked Ted, he’d say it was all her personality. Looking down, acknowledging the little hums, Claire smiles around the bottle and formula spills out and down her plump cheeks.
“This is why mummy no longer gets dressed before your bottle,” Rebecca tells her daughter before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Love you.”
She uses the burp rag to wipe up some of the mess, but she’s sure they’ll have to get in the bath at some point if they’re going anywhere. She’d hate for either of them to smell like formula when the smell of baby lotion is far more appealing.
Claire continues to suckle, closing her eyes as she leans a little heavier against Rebecca, content with their morning routine.
Keeley linked Rebecca to a couple of articles from the gossip mongers at The Sun. They have a photo of her and Ted from two days ago in London after her interview with BBC Sport and Sky Sports on how the team felt about having a break in the league season thanks to the World Cup in a few months. In the photo, Ted was holding her hand and sporting the baby carrier on his chest since they had walked over from Emirates Stadium, where the two media groups had gathered the top six Premier League owners for a group interview and one-on-ones, to the pub Jamie had texted the group text of where to meet to celebrate their gaffer’s birthday a few days early. Lackey Lasso and his Papoose, the header read. Naturally, there was a photo of Bex and Rupert with Diane. Diane was in a pram despite the fact she’s almost a toddler. The nanny pushed the contraption a few feet behind Bex and Rupert. Piers Morgan had picked up the photos last night and lauded the benefits of Rupert’s method of fatherhood compared to the ‘American Rodeo clown, Ted Lasso,’ the article reads.
It had apparently been the wrong thing to say on Twitter if Ted’s fans had anything to say about it. Most support him and his right to share child-rearing duties with Rebecca. A handful called him a ‘zaddy.’ Several assure their followers the fact he’s almost always photographed either wearing the baby carrier, steering the stroller, or just tossing the knapsack over his shoulder, and it’s clear he’s dad material.
Her hand holding the bottle cramps a little and she tosses her phone on the couch cushion and switches to her now free hand and listens to the telly she put on earlier, a recap where all top twenty of the Premier League owners and managers oppose having a biannual World Cup. This six week break is already wreaking havoc on their league. Add to that, the Olympics in 2024 means Ted, Beard, and Roy will have to augment their schedules more than originally planned.
As if he can sense her thinking about him, she hears his footsteps approach. His bare feet quietly slap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way down from their bedroom to the sitting room.
“Morning,” he greets as he combs his fingers through his hair as he sits on the couch next to her.
“Morning. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” he leans back into the cushion with a soft smile and grabs for Claire’s wayward foot, running his finger against the bare foot.
“That would be your daddy,” Rebecca says softly as Claire pauses and looks up at Rebecca with a furrowed brow.
“Mornin’ baby girl,” Ted emphasises his accent as he leans into Rebecca so Claire can spot him.
“You want to take her and I can make your coffee and my tea?” Rebecca dips her chin to Claire.
He nods and she clears her throat as she stands, turning and depositing Claire into his arms. She waits for a moment, watching as Claire looks up and finds it acceptable that she’s in her father’s arms before starting to finish that ounce or so left of formula. Rebecca watches Ted lean back further into the cushion and winks at her before she turns and heads for the kitchen.
When his coffee is perfectly sugared and syruped and her tea is steeped properly, she heads back into the sitting room to find Ted and Claire on Claire’s playmat. She doesn’t hate tummy time this morning as Ted props her up against his shin and is dangling a bright blue toy in front of her to encourage her stretching her arms.
“We gotta get your arms all sculpted like your mama’s,” Ted tells Claire as a little finger touches the blue toy as she lets out a noise that sounds like a huff and a giggle all in one.
Rebecca sits down next to him, handing him the coffee and laughs as Claire sneezes and it shakes her entire being.
“Beard-o said he’d forgo Sunday chess if you were planning on doing something,” he tells her as he takes a sip.
“It’s your birthday, Ted. If you want to play chess with Beard, go ahead. My only plans were whatever you wanted to do.”
“I think a certain publican had her eyes on a certain little lass to entertain,” he motions to Claire with a head tilt before he sips his coffee.
Rebecca nods.
“If you ever want to venture into becoming a barista, I’ll visit the shop every day.”
“Is the meet at a coffee shop a trope you’d like to explore?”
“Hey, it's a perfectly acceptable rom-com trope. And, you know I’m a sucker for ‘em.”
“Yes, I do,” Rebecca nods. A rom-communist until the very end, her partner. But she wouldn’t have him any other way.
—
When Ted goes out for Sunday chess with Beard and Claire, Rebecca sighs as she looks at the recipe his mother had forwarded. The thing is, Ted’s not as fond of desserts as she is. Doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth unless he’s drinking a coffee that’s more sugar and syrups than coffee. But she’s determined to make the peach pie and remind him of the dessert she first had in Kansas. Before she knows it, though, she’s on her phone.
“I have no bloody idea what I’m doing,” she says in greeting when the phone call stops ringing.
“Oi, you’ve got this,” Roy tries.
“No, I don’t. I shouldn’t attempt this. You think it’s too late to go to Waitrose and see if they have a pie? It doesn’t even have to be peach. Peaches aren’t even in season.”
“Which is why his mum sent you her tinned peaches.”
They are delicious peaches, she reminds herself. She had this whole surprise for him and got his mother to send over a few tins to Beard’s address so she could actually surprise Ted. The subtle exchange happened today when she had dropped Ted and Claire off in Richmond, parking near the Crown and Anchor. Ted had been distracted by Shannon and her group of friends playing football on the green and Beard had exchanged the baby knapsack for the mailed fruit before meeting Ted across the street.
The first year when she had met his mother, she had made her tinned peaches and let Rebecca try and warm peach and the syrup. It has a lemony, tartness to it that had ruined all other peach desserts for Rebecca.
“I may need to call you for another pep talk. I’m sure I’ll have another crisis about the fucking lattice pattern,” she reminds Roy.
“I’ll be here all afternoon. Keeley, too, once she gets back from the salon with Phoebe.”
“Oh, tell them I want a photo of their nails.”
“Will do. And, Rebecca?”
“Yeah?”
“Gaffer would eat a fucking mud pie for you made with mud and rocks and shit. You’ve got this,” he reminds her.
“Thanks, Roy,” she sighs as she hangs up, buoyed a little at the blind faith her friends have in her basic kitchen skills when it's outside the prep stage.
She looks at the recipe again, wondering if Ted’s mother wrote the little notes in the margin for her benefit. She’s sure, at this point, the older woman has made enough pies in her lifetime that she no longer needs a recipe. She takes a deep breath before re-reading the recipe for the hundredth time. She doesn’t want to screw this up.
She doesn’t preheat the oven. The little note in the margin tells her that the dough needs to chill and only turn the oven on twenty minutes before she plans to bake it. Ted’s mother even went out of her way to convert the 375 degree fahrenheit to 190 degree celsius and the cups of flour and sugar to grams. Gathering all the equipment and ingredients she needs on one side of the island countertop, she sends out a quick chant to the universe that it needs to have her back for the next few hours.
In the bowl Ted uses for her biscuits, she puts the sieve over the opening and carefully measures and then sifts the flour, sugar, and pinch of salt into the bowl. She's seen Ted do this with her biscuits. Something about air and clumping and she's not sure if it will help considering it's about to go into the food processor with butter and shortening, but Ted's far more experienced at this than her. And, unfortunately for Ted, he'd have to be the subject of her baking attempt, disaster or not.
She takes the butter and shortening out of the freezer that she had put in one of the pouches they use to keep Claire’s formula chilled because she sometimes prefers a chilled bottle. Plus, the little note from his mum said if she pre-cut the butter and shortening and then froze it, it would stand up to the processor and form into a disc part of the recipe. She had done that yesterday when she had left for the stadium later than him since Beard had picked him up early.
The food processor is loud and slightly terrifying but she thinks she’s got the coarse part right. Using the bowl she already had out, she dumps the mix from the food processor, careful of the blades, and gets the still water she’s stuck in the freezer out. Armed with a fork, she makes a circle with a couple ounces of water around the bowl before setting the empty measuring cup aside and combing the pie dough together with the fork.
“What the fuck is crumbly dough?” She asks aloud to the empty kitchen. Looking at the bowl, everything is mixed fairly well, to her untrained eye. She's not sure the Bake Off episodes she and Ted have watched mention crumbly dough. “Good enough.”
Upending the bowl onto the counter, she at least knows how to knead. In fact, she enjoys it when Ted makes bread from scratch and has her knead, pointing out she has the arms for it. She completes the kneads and it looks a bit like the frozen pie tins she’s seen at the market she had gone to with Ted in Kansas. After it's in a relatively disc-shaped ball, she cuts it in half with the chef's knife and wraps both before sticking them in the chiller.
With the time she had to chill the dough, she cleaned up what she had already used. The mundane task of filling the sink, washing the bowls and cups and the various parts of the food processor. Putting them all back in their place before she made herself lunch to extend the chill time. Ted’s mother suggests at least an hour rather than the half-hour the recipe details. And, she’s entrusted her beginner skills to his mother so far. So she’ll take the suggestion to heart.
Just as she wonders how she’s going to fill the extra seven minutes she has to make it a full hour, Keeley’s name pops up on her phone with a FaceTime request.
“Hi, babe,” Keeley greets with an air kiss.
“Hi,” Rebecca grins and returns Keeley’s air kiss with one of her own. “Let’s see them.”
Keeley sticks her free hand in view of the camera and a smaller hand also appears in Rebecca’s screen. Keeley’s are painted five different shades of pink. Ombre or something, Rebecca recalls the trend. Phoebe’s are two red, a yellow, and two blue that are as close as one can get to Richmond colours without stepping on the copyrighted colours.
“Love the support, Phoebe,” Rebecca points out with a nod.
“See, Uncle Roy,” she hears Phoebe saying off-screen, “ Rebecca got it.”
Keeley rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
“So, how’s the baking a pie for Ted going?” Keeley wonders.
Rebecca sighs.
“I honestly don’t know. I’m following all his mother’s directions and I’ve done too many Google searches for coarse meal and crumbly dough that I went down a recipe blog nightmare hole. But, really, how hard is it to just give me a definition and a picture? I don’t need to read about the one time you took a road trip on Route 66 to taste test American diner food.”
Keeley laughs out loud as Rebecca finishes.
“Sorry, babe. But that’s just how the influencer world works.”
“This is why Ted’s in charge of cooking and baking new things.”
“Yeah, sorry, but Ted probably loves those little anecdotes.”
Rebecca hums.
Her timer goes off and Keeley makes to leave but Rebecca tells her it's fine to stay on and Keeley assures her that she can prop her phone on something and she’ll get Roy’s opinion if Rebecca needs it.
Rebecca knows how to lightly flour the countertop. She’s seen Ted do it when his cinnamon rolls make an appearance when Henry’s in town and dough is a little too wet for his tastes.
The marble rolling pin was Ted’s favourite. He had only made do with a wooden one before he had moved in with her.
She focuses on rolling out the dough and she looks at it, wondering if it’s the correct size, before she looks up at Keeley. Obviously sensing her thought, Keeley raises her voice to shout Roy’s name.
“Let me see the tin?” Roy asks when Rebecca can see a part of his face over Keeley’s shoulder.
Rebecca shows him the pie tin and then goes back to the circular dough.
“Another two centimetres,” Roy confirms. “Should help with making it a little thinner, too.
“God forbid I make a pie with a soggy bottom. Mary Berry would never allow me at another garden party.”
Rebecca props the phone against the back of her iPad stand again and takes a few minutes to roll out the dough to Roy’s specifications.
“If you roll it carefully onto the rolling pin, you should be able roll it into the tin without making a mess.”
She takes a deep breath, listening to Roy as he guides her through the process of rolling the dough onto the rolling pin without making it crumble.
“Shit,” she whispers as she lays it out in the tin and it tears a little.
“Oi, don’t fucking panic. Just keep going. There.”
She looks up with a frown at the phone.
“The pieces that are hanging over the tin? Tear off a little piece and form it into a ball.”
She does show and shows it to the camera.
“Right. So, carefully, and I mean it, lift the dough and press everything into the tin. Use the little dough bit so you don’t fuck with the shortening and butter.”
“And what do I do with the tear inside?” Rebecca asks as she starts following Roy’s directions.
“Do this first and we’ll get to that after.”
Keeley maybe takes a few screenshots as they watch Rebecca’s tongue poke out as she concentrates on not fucking up the pie dough anymore than necessary. With Roy’s help, she rescues her dough and she thanks them profusely. With both now rolled out and one securely in the tin, she sticks the tin and the baking sheet with the top crust in the chiller. Roy gets another thanks for his help and Keeley for being her personal cheer squad. Keeley gives her more air kisses, suggesting she’d be fine if Rebecca wanted to continue FaceTime while she showers. And, Rebecca barks out a hearty laugh before she tells Keeley goodbye and hangs up the phone.
She double checks her phone for messages from Ted and Beard before she turns on the showerhead in the washroom. Seeing none, she figures she can use the time to take more than a five minute shower which now seems to be her and Ted’s default.
Letting her hair air dry, she puts on a soft, knit wrap dress. It’s a little on the chilly side since autumn is fast approaching as September fades into October, but she’s only picking up Ted from Richmond and doesn’t plan to be out and about more than she needs to be.
Heading into the kitchen again, she finishes off the pie. Preheating the oven this time around before she starts reading the recipe again. Carefully opening and pouring the tinned peaches into the chilled pie tin and the few slabs of butter atop the peaches. She’s not quite sure what a decorative crimp is after she’s completed the egg wash and laid the top pie shell onto the tin, but she makes sure the two centimetre gap is there when she cuts off the excess. She cuts the venting slits like Ted’s mother has drawn out in the margin and after transferring the tin onto the spare baking sheet, she sticks the pie into the preheated oven and starts the timer on her phone.
When the pie is finished and relatively golden brown with its crust, she texts Ted, telling him she’s finished her shower and then she’ll come pick him up if he thinks Claire has it in her to wait the twenty minutes it will take her to reach Richmond.
He assures her that Claire is perfectly content to hang out with him and Beard and the regulars at the Crown and Anchor. Her lunch is being drained as they swap texts.
When they walk through the door after she picks them up, Ted carrying a sleeping Claire in his arms, he smells it.
“It smells like my mama’s kitchen in the summer,” Ted turns back to Rebecca as she toes off her shoes and drops Claire’s knapsack beside both their pairs. His brows raise in question.
“It’s possibly a disaster,” she tilts her chin to the kitchen, letting him know he’s free to follow his nose. She squats and unzips the knapsack, getting out the bottle with the last dregs of formula, the burp rag, and the muslin blanket.
“I’m just gonna put this little lady up in her crib since she’s got a bit of a nap left in her,” he raises one arm and heads up the stairs after she nods.
She’s washing out the bottle when he comes into the kitchen and wraps his arms around her waist much like she usually does to him.
“Peach pie,” he hums as his lips brush the side of her neck with a kiss. She can feel him smile as she sinks back into him.
“Yes, well, you don’t have much of a penchant for eating sweet things,” she reminds him as she turns off the sink water and moves the pieces of the bottle to the little air-drying contraption near the kettle.
“Mmh, I…” he trails off when she turns and covers his mouth with her hand.
“If you’re about to make a reference to eating me out as being something sweet for dessert, I will ban you and Keeley from hanging out for a month.”
She gives him a look and he nods before she slowly drops her hand to slip between them and rests on the waistband of his dark wash jeans.
“Ice cream is probably the sweetest dessert if it's not just sharing a few bites of your dessert,” he concludes.
It's too easy and she looks at him as he gets a glint in his eyes.
“And, you’re right, you’re more of a delicious tang with just a hint of sweet,” he winks.
Before she can tell him to fuck off, or any other one of her usual responses to his innuendos, he kisses her, and she responds in kind.
“I’d really like to unwrap my gift if you don’t mind,” he points out as he leans away and gestures to the bow on the side of her wrap dress. Giving the material a slight tug.
“You are impossible,” she whispers but her fingers counter her non-statement as they pop the button of his jeans.
“Happy birthday to me,” he whispers as he takes her hands in his and he starts backing her out of the kitchen and upstairs.
Rebecca can’t help but smirk as Keeley purposefully uses her left hand to grab at her scone as the two of them have a late breakfast after Rebecca’s finished her photoshoot and interview with the Football Financial Quarterly staffers on a blustery October morning.
She waits until Keeley smirks and winks at her.
“I fucking knew he took you or Ted,” Keeley shakes her head as Rebecca grabs the younger woman’s hand. “Which one of you did he take?”
She had met Roy at a jeweller in South London a few weeks after the season started. An old family friend of his grandfather’s, apparently. There for the moral support, a second eye, and a hand model, she had brought Claire along who had quietly looked up at her mother from her perch against her chest in the baby carrier until she’d fallen asleep.
“It’s lovely. Congratulations, Keeley,” Rebecca tells her sincerely. He had gone with the solitaire princess cut, as she had expected when he had narrowed it down to the halo or princess. Roy had told her she would look right fuckin’ fit with an emerald cut the moment she tried it on.
“Well, I know it's not as big as your life event from last year around this time, but I couldn’t wait until match day when we saw each other again. I know you’re crazy busy with the rest of the league owners trying to work out the schedule for next year.”
Rebecca’s own life event from last year at this time was currently spending some quality time with her grandmother since Ted had to do some press between training and she hadn’t wanted to bug Leslie when he was trying to finish up the readthrough of Jamie and Isaac’s national team contract for the World Cup and Olympic matches.
“You can always interrupt me,” Rebecca reminds her. She’d actually welcome more interruptions which is probably one reason why she has yet to get a nanny. Enjoys the fact she can still work and hang out with her baby minus the occasional Tuesday when her mother requested Claire’s presence at her book club. Which Rebecca thinks is code for she just wants to show off her grandchild. Plus, the entire back room of her office is suitable for a nap area where they’ve put a portable crib and where all Claire’s things go. Ted often takes her down to the training pitch in her baby carrier for some fresh air and sunshine before she takes her afternoon nap.
“One day I’ll walk in on you and Ted and you’ll regret saying that. I won’t, but you might.”
“You have,” Rebecca points out. The one day last year when she had been nervous about the ultrasound where Emily got the all-clear to graduate from the fertility clinic to a regular OB/GYN.
“Yeah, but that was like only a little snog session,” she reminds Rebecca with a pout. “Come on. You can’t tell me you and Ted haven’t, like, shagged in your office. Or his office.”
“You’re right, I cannot.”
“Wait, does that mean you can’t because you have or you can’t because you haven’t?”
Rebecca tilts her head, raises a brow, and sips at her tea.
“You fucker,” Keeley whispers.
Rebecca chuckles quietly behind her teacup.
Keeley spreads the clotted cream and strawberry jam on her scone as Rebecca puts her teacup down and aims for her fork to spear a few more fruits off her plate.
“Obviously I’m going to need a maid of honour, right. So, please, will you stand with me? I promise I’ll get you a gift and shit later but I wanted to make sure you’d be available.”
“Of course,” Rebecca answers with a nod.
“Do you guys know your Henry schedule yet? I know Phoebe will probably want to be the ring bearer but, like, I was thinking Henry and Claire could be the flower kids.”
“We have him for his winter and spring break,” Rebecca recalls. “The winter break is from the 17th of December to the 3rd of January. His spring break is sometime during the FA Cup. I think maybe the quarterfinals week. So, mid-March?”
Keeley nods.
“And we’re planning on going to Kansas the week after my birthday for two weeks this year if we don't make the Champions League group stages.”
“When are the breaks next season? Do you guys know yet?”
Rebecca pulls out her phone and goes to her email, ignoring the 87 unread messages from the hour she's been gone and pulls up the tentative schedule all the Premier League owners were given at the start of the season that they’re trying to finalise.
"Looks like September 9, October 14, November 18 for 2023. And, March 23 for 2024."
“My vote is September 9.”
Rebecca nods.
“We can ask Michelle if he can skip a few days of school. He usually starts in mid-August.”
“Have you guys ever thought about making it official?” Keeley wonders as she looks over at Rebecca’s hand and her bare ring finger. “Ted’s just, like, such dad and husband material.”
“We talked about it when we were going through the process of bringing Claire into the world.” Rebecca puts her left hand in her lap. It’s one question she keeps getting asked in interviews now that they have Claire. Reporters ask if they’ll ever get a photo with her baby’s face (no) or if either of them will ever share her name (not likely unless either of them or AFC Richmond slips up in an interview). She wonders why the world is obsessed with a family unit always being a married unit. But Keeley isn’t coming from that angle, she knows. It is true about Ted. He exudes husband material. They apparently swing between the honeymoon phase and an old married couple according to the younger woman in front of her. “We’re happy as we are now. And, we’re supposed to talk to one another if that ever changes.”
“I get it,” Keeley nods. And she truly does.
“Now, tell me how many times Roy cried,” Rebecca leans into their little table.
“Oh my god. He should have been recording it so I could have had his retirement speech and his proposal as proper wank material,” Keeley giggles as she scoots closer and proceeds to tell the proposal story.
Rebecca is thankful she didn’t have tea in her mouth at that moment. A laugh echoing through the little cafe.
When Roy drops him off from a long day of training to prepare for their first West Ham match on Sunday and the last of their league matches before the six-week break for the World Cup, it’s already bedtime for Claire and the quiet house suggests she’s already asleep. He sighs a little as he locks the front door and toes off his Nikes before shuffling his way to the kitchen where he finds a little bouquet of snowdrops and an envelope with his name in her familiar loopy handwriting.
Although the team has been on a winning streak and has overall only lost three total matches this season, any time Rupert or Nate get mentioned in the press room, Ted still goes into a bit of a protective or retreat mode, depending on who the lob is aimed at.
He tilts his head, curious, and tries to listen for where she might be in the house but she’s not giving herself away if she’s still up. So, he takes the envelope in hand and traces his name before he flips open the back flap she hadn’t secured other than tucking it into itself. Inside the envelope is the same little toy soldier he had put in her birthday card almost two and a half years ago.
Her sock-clad feet shuffle on the hardwood behind him and he turns to face her. There’s a slightly pink tinge on her cheek but she holds his gaze.
He looks at her before looking down at the little green man. His fingers tap the helmet the little toy figurine wears and he can’t help the small, hopeful smile.
“This mean what I think it means?” Ted whispers as he looks up at her again.
She breathes out, wringing her hands.
“I know Claire is only five months old. And I know she might be my last good egg from all those rounds, but I’d like to try again if you’re up for it. You asked me to think about it. And, I’ve done some thinking since that day. You don’t have to answer now but I thought I’d put it out there for you to think about, too.”
She knows she’s going to get the call from the clinic soon about what she wants to do with the second round of the collection she did almost a decade ago. The same one she received in Kansas that started this whole journey and gave them Claire.
“There isn’t anything to think about, Rebecca. There ain’t anybody else I’d rather do this with again than you.”
Her tongue pokes out of her lips as she wrings her hands.
“What if I told you I wanted to try?” She whispers.
He opens his mouth, about to tell her that it’s her body and her choice but she stops him.
“I know it’s my body and my choice, but you’re in this, too. It’s a risk. And, I’m older. Maybe we shouldn’t put all the good eggs in my maybe faulty, old basket though. Maybe a surrogate and me? See which one will stick, if any?”
“You got the all-clear from your doc today?”
Claire had one of her paediatrician checkups that afternoon, so Rebecca had scheduled her own annual physical the same day to get two checkups out of the way since she had planned to do a half-day of work anyway.
“Minus the whole, I have an IUD, yes,” she nods. “Still the same as when I had the appointment before. I am in perfect health, I’m just maternally advanced and should consider the risks and remember the chances of carrying at all are slim even if the eggs are better quality than the ones I have left now.”
They had gone through the usual annual appointment and included the internal scan and additional blood panel. Made sure she was all current on vaccines. But the entire 'advanced maternal age' wasn’t a comfort which made her pause in the decision again. She would be approaching her mid-forties. It’s a lot to consider.
“Let’s get a second opinion and see if you’re really an 'advanced maternal age' before we make a decision,” he repeats the words from when she had her appointment when they had decided to go the surrogate route with Claire. “We get six weeks to ourselves with no league matches. Maybe we can have a consultation then.”
She nods and wraps her arms around him, hugging him close to make sure he knew it was really okay not to have an answer now.
Ted licks his lips, about to say something when Claire starts to cry through the baby monitor that she holds. He chuckles and shakes his head as she pulls back and whispers she’ll get her.
He follows her up the stairs and down the hall anyway.
Her hair falls over her shoulders and she leans into the crib to pull Claire out and he realises it’s gotten long. Wonders if she’s thought about cutting it or wants to continue letting it grow. Wonders if she's been caught up with taking care of him and Claire to not get her hair done or if she’s trying something new. Either way, she looks amazing in his mind.
“Was it a specific moment for you?” He wonders as he watches her change Claire’s nappy and sit in the rocking chair to help Claire go back to sleep. It had been a multitude of moments for him when she had asked the first time. Moments he observed when she was with Henry. Moments with Phoebe. And then with him. And how much love he knew she had in reserve.
She thinks he knows it’s a multitude of moments to get to this moment. She’s not sure she believes in the red string of fate or ghosts or monsters. At least, not the spiritual kind. She’s experienced ghosts in the way she remembers her childhood before 1991. Competing with the girl who didn’t hate her father for 30 years and who was thick as thieves with her mother. The ghost of the woman she was before she married the man who has been the monster lurking in the shadows. She’s learned to adapt and cope in a healthy way thanks to therapy and a healthy relationship with the man leaning against the doorframe of the nursery. Walks around the greenspaces, long baths, baby snuggles, asking Ted to hold her, or requesting an extra session with Brigitte.
“No,” she whispers. Her fingers gently brush the bridge of Claire’s little nose as the baby blinks sleepily up at her. She loves how gentle he is with her, with Claire, with Henry. Each milestone they had last year was something else. But she had remembered that each milestone, he’d get this little look before his face morphed into sheer gratitude and wonder. And, she remembered that he hadn’t been around for many of the milestones with Henry. Going to different universities or gruelling training sessions with the university football staff and players. She had always wondered what it would be like if it had been the two of them and it was her sharing the milestone with him.
They communicate through touch. It’s something she first noticed after the hug at the gala when she had first told him about Rupert. She adores holding his hand or setting her hand against his thigh as they squeeze into a booth on nights out with the boys. Relishes how he doesn’t brush her off when she wraps herself around him in and out of bed. The simple, casual affection is welcome instead of brushed off as ‘randy Rebecca.’ She had asked him about it once when they had been on holiday in Dublin when they had escaped on their “weekends” early on. He had told her that her touching him was like he was one of those special little biscuits the Australian transfer had taught the team. And she giggled, remembering the young footballer showing the team how to perfect a Tim Tam slam. It had been the one time Ted had deemed garbage water acceptable as he wasn’t getting too much tea when he had bitten the opposite corners and used the caramel flavoured chocolate-coated chocolate biscuit as a straw of sorts to melt the inside before slamming the softened biscuit all in one go. In other words, her touch made him all gooey and melty and he liked that very much.
He’d be beside her spending all night or morning in the washroom if needed. Holding her hair back, getting a toothbrush all ready. Hand on her belly and waiting for tiny kicks and jabs. She wants it for him. For them. But she knows it's a long shot.
—
Eight days into their six-week break, she gets the phone call she was expecting from the clinic. The same voice from the first call listing their options and how they’d be happy to let her take a few days to decide. But she doesn’t need the days this time. She sets up an appointment for early next week for her and Ted after checking Ted’s calendar to make sure he and Beard don’t have any secret sandwich switcheroo plans outside of every other Friday.
She hangs up, feeling a little lighter, and gently moves in their bed. Careful not to upset the sleeping baby on her chest that’s acting as a weighted blanket and heating pad. Doing exactly as her father intended when he left Rebecca with a fresh cuppa, some Cheerios, and a bottle of formula as he stopped by the market a few blocks away to get nappies and the corner chemist for some real heating pads and to fill her prescription.
She’s nodding off when she hears him quietly putter around with something in the paper bag he sets at the end of the bed. She feels him take Claire from her chest. A whispered, 'I got her,' has her relaxing her grip on the baby. She curls to the side rather than on her back since it's her preferred way to sleep. And, soon enough, he’s traded spots with Claire.
“Are you feeling okay? Need anything?” Ted asks as he wraps an arm around her and his hand presses against her lower back.
“Keeping warm helps,” she whispers sleepily as she tucks a leg between his under the covers.
Ted hums. It’s par for the course considering she had the copper IUD rather than the hormonal version so she still went through a regular monthly cycle rather than a light or every other month version. But after a consultation with another specialist a few days into their break, she had opted to go back to her physician to have her IUD removed this morning. She knows the odds are against them, but she wants to try IVF. With her eggs already collected, she’s cut down on the process somewhat but it will still take a few months. Plus, they aren’t sticking all their eggs in her basket and also trying the surrogate route, just in case.
“The clinic called when you were out. I set up an appointment for next week, but my solicitor thinks the contract language is still valid. We’ll just have to figure out the steps ourselves. How are you with needles?”
“Well, I generally look away when it's vaccine time but if I gotta jab you to help make our baby, I can get over it.”
“Get ready for the hormones,” she whispers with a quiet laugh against her pillow.
“No problemo. Well, let me know when you want a bath and I’ll make it all fancy and keep the little mermaid all occupied so it can be a hot one. Get that nice bubble bath all ready to go.”
“Mmh, later,” she hums as she winces a little as she moves too quickly to shuffle closer to him. “Keep me company until I fall asleep?”
“You drive a hard bargain, baby,” he presses a kiss to her forehead and his hands move softly up and down her back.
He stays for a nap of his own, drawn in as the temperature dips outside and Rebecca’s cocoon of blankets no match for his weary self.
Although it's only a nap, and a sort of fitful one at that, she pictures another little girl. This time with dark hair and dark eyes as she latches onto Henry while Claire wields one of those plush Thor’s hammer toys and chases them around the garden. Baby giggles and young laughs mixing with a Ted laugh despite him not being visible in the dream.
—
Four weeks into their six-week break, they’re back in the familiar seaside cottage in Brighton. It had been quicker this time around with getting all settled with the fertility clinic. Rebecca had cried tears of relief as soon as they had made it to the car park that maybe it wouldn’t take an entire year again. The contract language is still okay to use. Their preferences hadn’t changed. She would still have to attend the mandatory five sessions but since she was still seeing one of their recommendations, they’d have to talk about the gestational and her IVF for at least one session. And three days after their meeting with the clinic, when the secure file came with the matches, Rebecca may have scanned for Emily’s name without conscious thought.
Seems like the universe is trying to tell us something, Ted had hummed as he peeks over her shoulder at her quiet smile that lingered in the corner of her mouth as he then moved to cut her cooled biscuits.
The surrogate meet and greet is more a reunion than what it was last year with the long hours and endless list of questions as they tried to find their perfect fit. Ted and John play catch up and introduce Claire to the rocky shoreline of where their journey for her first began since the first time she was here, she was only seven weeks old. Rebecca and Emily trade takes on motherhood and laments they grow too fast.
After a quiet lunch with takeaway from the chippy usually packed with tourists in the summer, Rebecca’s fingers twist in her lap and Emily tilts her head.
“You’ve got that guilty mom look,” Emily tells her and points to her brow line as she furrows her own to show Rebecca what she looks like.
“I think you have the right to know before you sign the paperwork agreeing to be our surrogate again that I would like to try carrying, too.”
Emily pauses any reply she has. She can see Rebecca working on how to say the next thing on her mind.
“I’m forty-three. Obviously, the statistics aren’t great to begin with but we’ve seen a few other specialists who haven’t said no or it’s impossible. If Claire is my last good egg, I accept that. Henry is absolutely besotted with her and Ted and I are in a good place. I know we can handle it if it doesn’t work.”
Rebecca’s sure that being Richmond fans, Emily and John caught Ted’s talks on sports and mental health. May have even seen their joint interview where she held Ted’s hand under the table the entire time.
“I think the Stones put it best, yeah?” Emily finally speaks up.
Rebecca looks slightly confused.
“You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, well, you might find you get what you need.”
Rebecca chuckles.
“What’s that American saying? Umm, more power to you? If you have the energy for three under three, you’re Superwoman. Which goes without saying. But, you and Coach Lasso also deal with 25 boys all the time so maybe you’re used to chaos,” Emily laughs. It’s far from discouragement. In fact, it's encouragement.
“Mmh,” Rebecca looks out as Ted moves to pretend to dip Claire into the water. The rolling giggle audible from their perch at the front deck of the cottage. “I’d understand if you don’t want to go through with it, though.”
“You know they don’t release your name until we’ve both matched or say yes,” Emily forks a tomato with her greens. “But reading your profile the first time around, I had this feeling about you. And, then, when you show up with Coach Lasso. It was kind of like the universe was making sure all the stars aligned, you know?”
She eats her bite as she watches Rebecca mull over her words.
“All that to say, I’m in,” Emily nods after a moment. “It would also be easier if your kids ever want to meet me, you know? Rather than carting them to two different surrogates?”
One of Rebecca’s caveats last time was the surrogate had to be comfortable with possibly being contacted later on if any child wanted to know how they came into the world. It was still the same for this go-around, too. Rebecca and Ted never planned to hide it from Claire or any other child they may have out of the process since, without it, they wouldn’t have their little giggly ray of sunshine.
Rebecca can’t help the soft smile and the slight tears that form. And, she reaches out and curls Emily’s hand in her own.
“Thank you,” she whispers as she squeezes the younger woman’s hand.
—
Five weeks into their six-week break, Henry steps off the plane for his two weeks of winter break and he bounces anxiously as the flight attendant and gate agent check Ted’s paperwork. As soon as he gets an okay, Henry darts over to Rebecca who is pushing the stroller back and forth with her foot as she sits near the gate agent. She pauses the motion as Henry sides up and peers in to find a half-asleep Claire.
“Hi, Rebecca,” Henry says quickly before he leans over and hugs her.
“Hello, Henry,” Rebecca greets as she wraps an arm around him.
He knows he needs to wash his hands to hold Claire, but she gets out a wipe from the knapsack beside her and hands it to him when he releases her.
“Can I push?” He looks up at her as she stands from the seat.
She nods and she lets him take charge and he leans over the front of the stroller and watches as he grins as Claire looks up at him with interest.
Ted takes Henry’s carry-on from him and Rebecca grabs the knapsack of Claire’s things before they start off to baggage claim. With her hands now free from the stroller, Rebecca takes Ted’s hand in her own as they walk a few steps behind Henry.
The line for international travellers in customs is long enough for Claire to start fussing after being stationary for too long. Her darkening eyes are glassy with sleepiness but unable to self-soothe to a nap with all the chatter.
“Can I hold her?” Henry asks as he abandons his pushing position to stand at the side where Claire looks up at him.
At baggage claim, Henry had used the washroom and while they waited for his bag, he had taken out his jumper from his carry-on now that he wasn’t flying across the Atlantic.
Rebecca nods and she gets the sling out of the knapsack she carries.
“I’m going to have you wear this since she’s a little bigger than she was when you last held her and we don’t want pictures of either of you on the internet.”
“Okay,” Henry nods as they move up a few paces in line.
Rebecca loops the sling over his head and adjusts it so it sits properly. Ted uses his body as best he can to block one side while Rebecca takes Claire out and sticks her in the sling.
“There we go,” Rebecca nods.
“Give her a slight sway and pat her a little,” Ted whispers to Henry as he demonstrates the slow movements.
Henry copies Ted.
“Little slower. There we go. Just for a few minutes.”
Rebecca watches little eyes droop as she peeks inside the opening as she stands beside Henry. Claire closes her eyes for a moment before they pop open. Repeating the process a few times before Henry starts whispering to her as he continues to sway and pat her back.
When Claire does eventually fall asleep, the customs agent comments that he’s a good big brother. And Rebecca and Ted both heartily agree with the sentiment.
—
Christmas morning had dawned bright and early in the Welton-Lasso household. Henry got up at the same time as Claire, peeking in her room and trying to figure out how the side of the crib went down so he could carry her out. He tells her that their parents are still sleeping and she needs to use her inside voice as she chatters at him. Rebecca had laughed against Ted’s chest, listening to Henry talk to himself and Claire babble at him as they carried on a conversation in their own language.
“You think next year we’ll have another one?” Rebecca asks as her fingers find the hem of his t-shirt and her fingernails scratch at the skin of his belly.
“If we time it right, we could have two,” he hums. “But we might never get a sexy Christmas morning for the next eighteen or so years.”
“That’s why sexy December 28th exists. Sexiest of all the days,” she remembers Keeley telling her about Roy’s nonchalance about moving sexy Christmas to another day.
He rolls her over onto her back and she hums as he peppers kisses along the side of her neck and his hands roam under her borrowed t-shirt as she lets out a contented sigh.
They half-listen to Henry continuing to talk to Claire and as Rebecca thinks of going to help him when a third voice sounds out.
“Good morning, little sausages,” Deborah greets them and Rebecca feels Ted chuckle against her belly.
“Merry Christmas, Nana,” Henry’s bright voice welcomes the sight of Deborah Welton. “I was trying to help get Claire out so we can see the presents Santa left but I need help.”
“Well, luckily Nana’s here and can just pop her over the top, eh?” Deborah takes a babbling Claire from her crib. “Be a good lad and get her blanket while I change her nappy.”
Henry moves to the rocking chair to get Claire’s pink knit blanket and lingers in the doorway. Deborah finds it especially lovely to find Claire and Henry wearing matching pajamas with little elves and wrapped present boxes.
“Should we wake up Rebecca and dad?” Henry asks as Deborah tosses the soiled nappy in the bin, wiping her hands with a wipe, and picking up Claire who cuddles into her grandmother’s shoulder.
“Let’s let mummy and daddy have a bit of a lie-in. We are two capable Weltons and Lassos and can get Claire her bottle and entertain her before your father gets up and mummy comes.”
“Comes looking for us?” Henry asks.
“Yes, precisely,” Deborah relays but something in her voice tells Rebecca that’s not at all what she meant. Their voices soon lower and then they can hear Henry trying to quietly make it down the stairs, leaving the second floor empty.
“Did my mother just make a sex joke to our children knowing full well we can hear her?” Rebecca half groans through a quiet laugh.
“Maybe you should ban her and Keeley from hanging out,” Ted points out as he presses a kiss to her hip. “But I’m going to open my gift now if you don’t mind.”
She only lifts her hips as a response, helping in his mission to rid her of her sleep shorts.
The afternoon was spent delivering gifts. They occasionally crossed paths with other familiar-looking AFC Richmond elves. Rebecca had Claire strapped to her chest in the baby carrier as Ted and Henry lugged around the stockings of presents for the underprivileged children. Henry delights as his dad tells tales of how Rudolph blinded him with his shiny nose, or how Santa couldn’t stop eating the biscuits at one house which delayed the whole night.
An early Christmas dinner is served at Crown and Anchor with Mae, her mother, and Leslie Higgins all pitching in and making a dish or two. Knowing the chaos of a six-month-old and an eight-year-old underfoot left Ted and Rebecca looking for other ways to celebrate Christmas dinner a few months ago when Ted, her mother, and Leslie suggested a Richmond celebration. After all, since their reserve national team players, Jamie and Isaac, hadn’t been called up to the World Cup (not that England had made it far in the qualifiers), they had the whole team still in Richmond and were scheduled for a home Boxing Day match against Norwich City. It had been marketed to the boys as a larger gathering of the Higgins Christmas dinner from a few years ago when they had been relegated to the Championship League.
Claire does not enjoy the paper crown Keeley puts on her head as soon as Rebecca comes back from the washroom at the Crown and Anchor with a freshly nappied baby.
Rebecca has her own gold coloured one that matches Ted’s and she’s pretty sure the team set it up that way as no one else has their colour. Keeley made Claire a pink one to match her own but she detests things on her head unless it’s Ted putting his old bucket hat on her as a joke during peek-a-boo. Her hands crinkle it as she takes it off, squishing it between her and Rebecca as she hums around her pacifier. Keeley looks undeterred as she holds her hands out for Claire and the baby accepts being passed off as she’s still focused on the crinkling paper.
And, when the four of them get home from the rousing successful dinner, Claire is put to bed to hopefully sleep through the night as Henry and Rebecca get out one of Henry’s Lego sets from Santa’s visit. It's some sort of Star Trek-looking spaceship. Or maybe Star Wars. Rebecca only knows that Nora prefers one over the other. One with a borg called Seven or something. Henry’s asked her to help and she’s excited to be of assistance as Ted makes Henry and himself a cup of drinking chocolate and adds whipped cream and cinnamon as they complete bag after bag of the spaceship until it’s complete and a photo of Henry taken for Michelle to comment on after Ted sends a few from their busy day.
When Ted kisses her later that night, he tastes like chocolate and cinnamon and she’s warmed by the prospect that this is just the beginning of their best holidays.
Spring is full of new beginnings. AFC Richmond is third in the Premier League table, five points behind Man City and three behind Arsenal. It's the highest they’ve been ranked in almost seventy years and Rebecca couldn’t be prouder of the little team that could. They’re doing well in the FA Cup and the Europa League standings, too. They’ve made it to the fifth round for the FA Cup and Round 16 for the Europa League. Although she and Beard are of the opinion they won’t make it to the final-final match to the two latter events, they’re sure of their status at the Premier League being top five again.
“I don’t know how you all keep the Premier League schedule, FA Cup schedule, and Europa League schedule square,” Ted says as he erases the February match dates and starts the March schedule as he looks at Rebecca’s notes. Blue ink is the Premier League. Pink is the FA cup. Purple is the Europa League. He has to use green dry erase marker ink for the FA cup stuff since Keeley keeps stealing all the pink markers for her own office.
Rebecca is sitting in his chair with Claire as she and Beard share a look.
“We’ll help with the schedule making,” Rebecca nods to her handy cheat sheet in his hands as he looks back at her.
She’s tired. They began the IVF treatments and she’s been falling asleep at the same time as Claire most nights. Tonight, though, she has her last mandatory session with Brigitte and he and Claire are going to spend some quality time with Uncle Beard at the Crown and Anchor.
Most of her symptoms have been mild enough to disguise as life with a baby. Slight exhaustion and tenderness are the top two symptoms. One time, when it had first started and she adjusted to the additional hormones, she relayed that her entire body felt like it just completed two marathons in a row. She commiserates with him and with Emily. The younger woman going through the same process and having been through it before, assures Rebecca it's normal and eventually, she’ll feel like herself again.
He suspects Beard knows something. But, as always, keeps it to himself until he’s told. If his best friend just happens to leave a few packets of soda crackers on the corner of his desk that Rebecca will unconsciously take and nibble on, well, that’s his prerogative.
—
Although Henry had given her a Mother’s Day surprise last year, this Mother’s Day was her first official one. The AFC Richmond social media accounts posted a recent photo of her to celebrate the day. She knew Keeley had taken the photo. It had been taken on Valentine’s Day. Claire dressed in a precious lavender romper while Rebecca had gone with a dusty pink dress. She had been at the open office window with Claire, the latter eagerly watching the players and listening to the familiar voice of Ted as she leaned against her mother. The players could be seen doing drills in the background. All twenty-five AFC Richmond players had reposted it with the hashtags Welton’s Boys and Richmond Mum.
Ted had even posted one of his own where she had been on the floor with Henry and Claire at Christmas time. They had all been in matching pajamas after Ted and Rebecca had made it downstairs, receiving a knowing wink from Deborah as she took one look at her daughter as she made her way into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and Ted his coffee as Ted wrangled Henry into passing out each of the presents under the tree.
Much like how she wrangled assistants to help her in making Father’s Day a success for him when Claire was mere days old, Ted wrangles the usual suspects into helping prepare a successful first Mother’s Day for her.
That afternoon, when Claire is supposed to go down for her afternoon nap and Henry’s finished getting ready for his weekend football tournament on the other side of the Atlantic, he sticks his boy on a FaceTime call and settles his phone in the plush rocking chair in the nursery as Ted gives Claire the little package before he calls out for Rebecca.
She pops into the room, noticing Ted sitting on the floor as he holds one of Claire’s hands as the other holds onto a destroyed ribbon as she swings a little box in front of her with a giggle as she looks up at her mother.
“She sort of claimed your present as her own. Licked it and everything,” he nodded to the wet-looking wrapping paper.
Rebecca chuckles and makes her way into the nursery, sitting beside Claire and asking if mummy can take a look at what she has.
Claire takes a moment but hands it over, plopping into Rebecca’s lap and releasing Ted’s finger as she aims to help Rebecca much like she had tried to show their daughter at Christmas time as they opened presents.
Ted watches her as she opens the paper and hands it to Claire to distract her since she loves to crinkle paper and anything else she can get her little hands on. With her nine-month-old successfully distracted, she opens the pink-coloured box to find a ring box inside. She looks up to Ted who has shifted a little closer but is still sitting on his bum rather than taking a knee.
“Well,” Ted nods to the black velvet box nestled in the pink box. “Go on.”
It reminds her of the first time he ever brought her biscuits. Telling her to go on and try a little nibble.
When she opens the velvet box, there’s a single ring inside. The alexandrite and diamond are every other stone in the eternity band in front of her nestled in the ring box. The alexandrite seemed to change from a blue-purple to a blue-green every other stone as either colour coordinated perfectly with the diamonds. Though, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who would say you can't match diamonds and another gemstone.
“Hope you don’t mind I included Henry’s birthstone,” Ted nods to the ring. “I know it's not as bold as the pieces you usually wear, but we were out one day and couldn’t help myself.”
“Ted, it's lovely.”
It is dainty but it's perfect, she thinks as she stares at it. A little overwhelmed by such a thoughtful gift.
“Happy Mum’s day, Rebecca,” Henry giggles as he pretends to be British again, and Ted reaches for the phone and turns it so Rebecca can see Henry as he hangs onto the edge of the couch in Kansas.
“Thank you, Henry,” Rebecca looks up with a soft smile and blows a kiss to him.
“Dad, I gotta go. Mom’s already in the car.”
“Oh, yeah, sure bud. Talk to you later.”
With a last goodbye, Henry hangs up the FaceTime and Ted drops his phone to the seat of the rocking chair before turning back to Rebecca.
“I know Henry has his own mom, but you treat him like he’s one of your own flesh and blood and if I can get you a little present from the both of them, then I figured why not.”
“Put it on me,” she nods to the box and he takes it from her hand.
Claire stops crinkling her paper and is distracted by the ring. Ted hands her the ring box and she holds it in both hands, the texture new as she brings it to her mouth for a taste test. Both Rebecca and Ted chuckle as Rebecca tries to tell her that’s probably icky.
“You can wear it on whatever finger,” he points out as he holds the ring between his fingers.
She holds out her left hand, wiggling her ring finger.
“You know the press is gonna have a field day when they see you wearing this,” he points out as he slides it up her ring finger, spinning it as it slides home and sits perfectly on her finger he had secretly hoped she would wear it on.
“Let them talk,” she whispers before she looks down, admiring the ring for a moment before she uses her left hand to pull him in for a kiss.
“I love you,” she whispers against his lips. “Thank you for making me a mum.”
“Love you, too, baby,” he tells her, leaning in again. Only pausing in kissing her as Claire accidentally hits his chin with the ring box when she learns she’s not the centre of attention anymore.
Four days after their May 5th loss to Braga in the semi-finals of the Europa League and two days after their May 7th win against West Ham for their Premier League matchup, Ted and Rebecca leave Claire with Deborah and head to Brighton. She’s done the tests and weekly scans at the clinic in the heart of London for the past two and a half months, but for some reason unbeknownst to her, she feels the need to do the transfer in Brighton. Ted doesn’t mind the drive or the whim, holding her hand as she drives.
When they arrive in the waiting room, Emily and John are there. She had texted Emily, letting them know the planned transfer date. An early check-in with the clinic this morning assured her lining was good so it wasn’t a wasted drive, and they’d taken off as soon as Deborah got to the house, bright and early. Emily’s a few weeks ahead of Rebecca in the process. And, she’s not sure if it helps or not, but the younger woman presents them with a box that Rebecca opens to find a positive pregnancy test blood work dated from a few days ago. It gives Rebecca a sliver of hope, going into her own transfer. Even if this doesn’t work for her, they might have a little one anyway. Emily wishes her well before they leave, knowing the process is far more emotional than others realise. And when Rebecca is called back into the patient room, Ted is allowed in until she’s up for the transfer process.
He helps her undress and step into the sterile clinical gown. She closes her eyes and breathes him in as she tucks herself close after he’s tied the two ribbons in the back of the gown for her.
“There ain’t nothing we can’t get through together,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I still have enough hope and belief for the both of us until you’re ready.”
She smiles against the bright pink jumper he wears unashamedly. She pulls away and digs into the pocket of the cotton knit trousers she had worn, finding the thing she was looking for and depositing it into his hand.
He looks down and unfurls the little yellow sticky note. He had written it three years ago after he’d won against Rupert at darts. Stuck it on the top shell of Rebecca’s laptop when he had brought her a box of biscuits when she had been in some sort of sponsorship meeting or something and he’d had training with the guys the rest of the day.
“Hold that for me until I’m done?” She asks softly as she also takes off her ring since jewellery isn’t allowed in the sterile room.
“You got it, baby,” he nods and folds up the sticky note with the words ‘believe’ on it, putting it in his pocket with her ring.
A knock soon interrupts the peace and Ted is asked to wait in the waiting room after being assured once the transfer is done, Rebecca will have to lay down for at least an hour and he’s welcome to come back then.
He pauses for a moment. His hands cup Rebecca’s cheeks, a hand moving through her hair, curling the soft strands behind her ear.
“I love you. I’ll be just outside, okay.”
She nods and licks her lips to return the sentiment but he kisses her soft and sure, not needing her to respond.
The nurse smiles softly as Rebecca’s cheeks turn a little pink as she gets in the portable bed and as soon as she’s under the flimsy sheets, the nurse sticks her head out the door and a porter comes in with a friendly nod before wheeling her into the sterile transfer room.
Rebecca watches the screen intently. Listening as the specialist describes each step in the process. Makes note of Rebecca’s beautifully full bladder, of which she is fully aware, and the lining is looking especially good for a latch for the five-day-old embryo they’re transferring today. Hoping that with her history and the success of Claire as the same age of the embryo they're implanting today, it will be successful so they don’t have to transfer multiple times or multiple embryos for Rebecca.
It’s a relatively quick procedure. Almost the same amount of time as getting her IUD removed late last year. And, as soon as she’s wheeled into the room to spend an hour or so with her own thoughts, her hand moves to her waist, closing her eyes and listening rather than seeing Ted come back inside the room.
He picks up her hand that sits atop her gown and sticks her ring back on her finger, curls the little sticky note into her hand, gently setting it back down before he covers her hand with his own and presses a kiss to her temple.
“Tell me a story?” She whispers.
“Oh, I got the perfect one,” he hums as he briefly leaves her side to snag the tall stool before returning to her side. His hand returned to cover hers on her belly and the other one curled atop her head, thumb brushing softly at her forehead. “It’s about this fantastically funny princess who once told an audience she wasn’t much of a hugger.”
A tear can’t help but fall from Rebecca's closed eyes as she listens to the story he tells Claire whenever she doesn’t want a book in her lap but wants a story to help her fall asleep as he rocks her in the rocking chair before bed.
—
As a tradition, Rebecca makes her way to the manager’s office before their last match for a truth bomb with Ted. She holds a single sealed envelope in her hands. Her initial blood work results are tri-folded and secure in the envelope. Ted couldn’t come and she told him not to worry. That today was just a blood draw. Something she’s done what seems like a million times now. But it is different no matter how many times she tries to think otherwise. Almost six months of work had gone into this single piece of paper and her stomach rolls with the prospect of the results. Or maybe because she’s hungry but not actually hungry. These hormones she’s still on are driving her insane with how out of sorts she is but she can’t be mad at her situation since it's of their own making.
The boys, Beard, and Roy are still finishing up the cool-down exercises on the training field.
Claire is with Keeley in her office, the younger woman entertaining Claire until the boys finish up with the final training before their final match that would either have them secure third place or move to second place thereby securing themselves a spot in the Champions League group stages instead of the Europa League group stage again. They’re all headed to the Crown and Anchor. Mae is ready for the shit show as soon as the regulars tweet the entire Richmond team is there but it's a closed party.
So, they’re alone as they can be as Ted finishes up a call with his immigration visa person and he waves her in. She steps inside and shuts the door, making her way to the middle of the manager’s office between his and Beard’s desks.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Tony. Appreciate you and everything you do. Yep. Bye,” he finishes the call and slips the phone onto his desk.
“Fancy seeing you down here, boss,” Ted winks as he stands and rounds the desk to meet her in the middle. “Whatcha got?”
She gives him a look and he chuckles.
“Sorry, trying to lighten the mood a little. Nervous habit.”
“I know,” she nods as she takes a deep breath and looks at the envelope.
“You want an opener thingy?” He asks as he looks over the office supplies at his desk and finds a letter opener. It's not as fancy as the one she has on her desk but it’ll do.
He hands it over and he watches as the blade slices through the top of the envelope with ease.
She takes a deep breath, looking over as he does the same. Biting her lip, she sets the envelope and the opener on the edge of his desk.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” she whispers as she holds the paper tighter.
“You can do it,” he nods. “I’m right here.”
“Okay,” she nods.
He doesn’t hurry her as she takes a moment. Can see the way she’s steadying herself for the results. He’ll have a split second to catch her and he’s ready. Talked it over with Sharon in the most roundabout way he could without giving away what they were doing.
She gets it over with as soon as she’s prepared herself. The trifold opened and her eyes falling to her name and her medical identification information before she reviews the paper and zones in on two bolded words in the margin.
“I’m… we’re…” she looks up from the bloodwork and the two words on the paper.
She turns the results around and he looks at the pink highlighter mark at the edge of a bunch of numbers he doesn’t even pretend to understand. Smiles softly at the little heart and smiley face the technician no doubt drew before sealing up the results for Rebecca.
“Cautiously pregnant,” she whispers as tears start to fall and she brings a hand to her mouth. She had never thought she’d ever be able to utter those words but here she is with what she thinks might be her favourite truth bomb she’s ever shared with another person. She's not sure she'll ever beat this moment with him.
He scoops her up in his arms like he had done when they'd won the match that sent them back up to the Premier League. The paper crinkling between them as he holds her tight and she can’t help but make him tilt his chin up so she can kiss him.
“Holy shit,” she whispers against him.
“I dunno about you, but I think this is better than winning the whole fuckin’ thing. I mean, I don’t know what that feels like yet. Maybe it's like when we won the FA Cup last month. But I gotta tell you, I’m on cloud nine billion,” he tells her as he sets her down on the ground and his thumbs wipe at her errant tear tracks.
He moves her over to his desk, gently pressing her to sit on the edge as he takes a seat at his desk chair and he rolls closer and presses his hands to her belly. He takes a facial tissue from the box and lets her have it so she can blot at her eyes that still run with tears of joy. After all, they still have a dinner to go to after this. But he leans in and presses a kiss to her belly as she holds him there for a moment as her fingers run through his hair.
“How are you doing, mama?”
“Ask me later,” she whispers, still processing the words. It might take all night or a day or two to really sink in. Maybe won’t sink in until the first scan where they’ll get to see the growing clump of cells for the first time since their sonogram of the transfer that was done eleven days ago.
The rumbling of cleats and Dani’s familiar voice singing a tune as the boys come in from the training pitch alert them to their future guests and Rebecca lets him go. He pushes back in his chair but his hand drops to her skirt-covered thigh, giving it a little pat. She shoves the test results back into the envelope and she wipes her thumb over Ted’s lower lip. Her lip colour transferred to his own mouth.
“Oi, children are present,” Roy gruffs as he gestures with his head to the locker room as the boys trickle in. “Hands to yourself.”
“Pot. Kettle,” Rebecca points to him and then stands and pulls herself closer to Ted as he stands and kisses her temple.
“I’ll go get Claire and Keeley ready for dinner,” she gestures to the side door since she’s not sure she wants to walk through a locker room full of half-naked or naked footballers.
“Hey, boss," Ted calls out as she makes to leave.
She turns, questioning him by raising a brow.
"Love you."
She smiles softly. Her whole being lighting up and her cheeks turn a little pink.
"Love you, too," she whispers with a nod.