Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When her period does not come on time, as it has every twenty-eight days since the cessation of oral contraceptives following her divorce eight months earlier, Rebecca Welton is not entirely surprised.

She’s in her mid-forties now, and although her own mother did not reach the menopause until her mid-fifties, Rebecca supposes that it’s not out of the realm of possibility that she’s reached the end of her childbearing years a few years earlier than she expected she would.

And as the days and weeks creep by and her period still does not appear, she definitely begins to become concerned. She’s having difficulty sleeping as well, and she’s clumsy and forgetful, which are definitely symptoms of the menopause, according to the NHS website. Of course, this does not entirely explain the soreness and fullness in her breasts, which only increases as the days go on, but she supposes that everyone reacts differently to the hormonal changes.

She knows she should go see her doctor, but she can’t make herself pick up the phone and make an appointment. They’re four matches into their first season in the Championship League and while their record is 2-1-1, a promising start, they’re still neck-deep in media requests, information requests from the accountants, branding meetings and press conferences and she can’t seem to find the time to take a day to drive into London proper and be poked and prodded by her doctor.

And, if she’s honest with herself, she doesn’t actually want to. Because the new Rebecca Mannion, more commonly known as Bex, is at least six months gone now, smug and happy and fertile on the front page of The Sun, and getting confirmation that she, the old Rebecca Mannion, now Welton, will never get the opportunity to experience pregnancy is something she doesn’t think she’s capable of doing. Not now, anyway.

But it’s not as if the chances of Rebecca becoming a mother the old-fashioned way are good whether she’s menopausal or not. Not at her age. After her divorce, she’d simply accepted it. That it was not going to happen for her.

She’d wanted to be a mother. Oh, how she had wanted it. But she’d listened to Rupert, listened as he’d listed off the reasons why the two of them having a child would be a bad idea, and over the years, she’d actually begun to believe them herself.

So she simply compartmentalises it, forgets about the fact that her period is going on four weeks late now, that her energy levels have dropped precipitously and that she just wants to sleep all the time. She drags her arse into work every day, stifles yawns during meetings and locks her door every day at one o’clock so she can curl up on the sofa and take a nap.

But it’s natural, she supposes. It’s a little early, but it’s just the way her body has decided to shut down its reproductive abilities, she supposes, betraying her, one last time.

Her last hope dwindles as the weeks continue and her period does not show.

But she doesn’t tell anyone. Ted is curious and concerned by the changes in her behaviour, but they’re both, thankfully, extremely busy, and she manages to keep her disappointment and grief from him. And switching from tea to coffee gives her the energy she’s been lacking to keep up with the day-to-day operations of the football club.

Things go on like that. It’s been eleven weeks since she last had her period, and she’s come to accept that she’s probably not going to have another one.

That is, until that day in early November.

Their record is good; 5-2-2, which is enough for third place. But it could be better. And that is why she and Ted are sitting in her office, looking over the roster and discussing the possibilities of bringing in some new players to shore up their midfield.

Rebecca, whose stomach has been a little queasy for the past few days, suddenly turns decidedly green and makes for the wastepaper basket so quickly she’s not sure Ted can even register the movement. Then she fastidiously throws up the biscuits he so lovingly baked her the night before.

But he doesn’t take long. Before her stomach’s even finished inverting, he’s down on the floor next to her, holding back the few tendrils of hair that’ve escaped her ‘do and rubbing her back reassuringly.

“Hey,” he says, his voice deep and soft, and she can’t help but be comforted by it, even if she’s currently feeling absolutely miserable, her stomach lurching as she coughs up the dregs of its contents.

When she’s finished, he offers her a tissue, and she smiles, thanking him.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, in that folksy way of his, and she can’t help but smile in spite of herself, even while she’s still shaking and can feel the bile burning the back of her throat. “You’ve been under the weather for a while now.”

“I’m fine,” she says, holding out her hand. He takes it, standing and helping her up with him. She’s a little surprised that he’s noticed she hasn’t been at her best. And here she is thinking she’d been doing a good job hiding it. She would just have to do better. Ted finds her a bottle of water, and she takes it from him, taking a deep draught to wash the taste of puke from her mouth.

Then she smiles confidently, like she hasn’t just vomited in front of him seconds earlier, and shakes her head dismissively.

“Just a bug,” she says. “Nora’s been sick, too, so I’m sure it’s something I picked up from her.”

“Well, all right, if you’re sure,” he says, though his eyes tell her this is not the end of the conversation.

“Now,” she says, sitting back down behind her desk. “We’ve got to make some changes, Ted.”

He scrunches up his face in protest. She knows he isn’t keen on bringing anyone in, having unending faith in his current crew and not wanting to upset the delicate balance in the locker room. But if they’re going to go the distance, they need all the help they can get.

“Are ya really sure you’re all right, though, boss? Don’t want to take a little siesta on the sofa there?”

She smiles in spite of herself.

“Ted,” she says, softly, “I know you don’t want to change anything but—it’s my fault we’re in this mess.”

“It’s not—” he starts, but she shakes her head.

“No, it is. At least in part. And if we don’t get promoted, it won’t be Rupert who’ll be remembered for destroying this club. It’ll be us. And, honestly, I don’t care if it makes him the happiest man in the world; I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Ted smiles and nods, appeased by her words, and she retrieves a package of mint chewing gum from her desk drawer, popping one in her mouth to try to allay the horrid taste of stomach acid mixed with shortbread. She suddenly wishes she had her toothbrush.

“All right, boss, I hear ya,” he says, nodding. Then he takes a breath. “Let’s figure this out.”

She throws up again the next day, and it’s then that a little niggling thought occurs in the back of her head. She ignores it.

Ted’s there, again, and she wonders exactly when they became attached at the hip. But she knows better. The familiar weight of his hand on her back, his surprisingly soft fingertips grazing against her cheek as he brushes the hair from her face. There’s no hesitancy anymore, no awkwardness.

Not since the night three months ago, fresh off her split with John Wingsnight (ridiculous name, she acknowledges that now) and full of lager from The Crown & Anchor, where she and Ted had headed after work to drown their sorrows.

She was heartbroken and he was homesick, after his plans to bring Henry to Richmond fell through for the second time, and a game of darts had broken out, Ted kicking her arse without even trying.

There’d been flirting, and touching, lines being crossed left and right, each little moment giving Rebecca a tiny thrill of anticipation. The heat he was giving off was almost as intoxicating as his scent, which was becoming incredibly familiar to her.

His victory had led to an impromptu lesson on proper stance and posture and grip, and his hands were suddenly all over her: on her lower back, her hips, her neck, ghosting across the inside of her wrist and her fingers.

It had been almost impossible for her to hold him at bay, to put up the boundaries that would keep them from doing something to change their relationship irrevocably.

She supposes it should have given her pause, but, firstly, they were both at least six pints in at that point, if not more. Proper smashed, the two of them were. And secondly, her willpower’d been nearly non-existent since the end of the first serious(ish) relationship she'd had since her divorce from Rupert.

Thirdly, Ted’s touch was electric, addictive even, sending frissons of pleasure up and down her limbs just from the simple application of pressure against her skin. And she liked the feel of him against her, liked his breath against her ear, liked the fact that he smelled just a little like his famous biscuits and she was wondering if he tasted like them, too. And judging by the way his eyes raked over her face and her curves each time he turned to her, Ted was wondering something similar about her.

But mostly, she'd been unable to stop it because it was Ted. Ted Lasso, the man she'd hired to do her dirty work, who had instead become her friend, her saviour, and her rock through all the ups and downs of the past eleven months. She’d been powerless against the magnetic pull of him to her.

So, in the darkened corner by the dartboard, once his little lesson was complete, she’d slowly turned to him, encouraged by what she saw in his eyes.

There was affection there, of course. There always was with Ted. But there was more, that night. There was want, as clear as day, in the way his gaze kept dropping to her lips, and how she could feel him watching her the moment she turned her back. But, more, there was need. In the way he seemed almost pained whenever she was near him, licking his lips as his eyes bored into hers.

“Take me home, Ted,” she’d said.

“Ten-four, there, boss,” he’d said, nodding, without any hesitation. She’d smiled then, relief flooding through her. She hadn’t misinterpreted his signals, and the bubble of hope and excitement in her belly suddenly made it almost difficult to breathe.

Mae’d let them sneak out the back, giving them a knowing but not unpleasant smirk, warning them that the local paparazzo enjoyed trolling the front exit, looking to catch players after a piss-up or a fight with one of their girlfriends.

And before she knew it, they were in the back of a cab and she was in his arms, his deep, dark, chocolate eyes threatening to engulf her before his lips were suddenly on hers. As she’d expected, kissing Ted Lasso was fantastic. She melted beneath him, moaning as he tilted his head for better access, his tongue probing the depths of her mouth while one of his hands slipped lower on her back and the other slid up her thigh.

They’d barely made it to her house before things had gotten decidedly inappropriate, his fingers having reached the apex of her thighs, teasing the wetness they found there.

She’d paid and they’d giggled like teenagers as they rushed into her house.

In hindsight, it certainly wasn’t how she would have wanted to start a relationship with Ted Lasso.

But then, she supposes that they’d both needed each other that night, needed the languid, surprisingly tender sex that they’d had atop her bed, needed the connection and the feeling of skin on skin. It didn’t matter that they’d been too drunk to really enjoy it, or for it to have much more meaning than the act itself.

But she had realised something that night. She had feelings for Ted Lasso. Strong feelings. Romantic feelings. It had surprised her, and at the same time, it really hadn’t.

And judging by the way he hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time they were in bed together, she was fairly certain he was starting to feel the same. And Flo’d told her about Liverpool, and about his reaction the next morning. That one incident notwithstanding, Ted Lasso didn’t do one-night stands.

And, if she was being honest with herself, neither did Rebecca Welton.

But if she and Ted had been wanting to start something, she would have wanted it to start slow. Maybe ask him for a drink, go out on a dinner date. Spend a few weeks outside of the club and get to know each other as Ted and Rebecca rather than as the gaffer and his boss.

She’d wanted to make a proper courtship out of it, to address their feelings and discuss the implications of a possible relationship before they got physical.

But, they’d scuppered that. In fact, they’d run over it with a monster truck and hadn’t even looked back.

She supposes that’s what you got when you combined beer, heartache, loneliness and unresolved sexual tension. People were people. She couldn’t fault either of them.

And, that night, as they both lay breathing heavily, sated and warm from the booze and the sex, Ted had surprised her. As he was wont to do.

Instead of immediately falling asleep facing the other way (Rupert’s MO), he’d wrapped his arms around her naked middle from behind, pressing her back against his chest and pulling the covers up over them both.

“I know we probably could’ve done this the right way,” he said into her ear, his Midwestern drawl softer than she’d ever heard it. She turned her head to look at him, wondering how he always managed to always read her mind so well. “We probably should’ve,” he said. “But that don’ mean we can’t build on this, Rebecca.”

“And, what, exactly,” she said, still watching him, her lips twitching nervously as she picked her words carefully, “did you have in mind?”

He smiled, as his eyes roamed her face, as if he was memorising her features. He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, then cradled her cheek in his hand. Despite the over-abundance of drink in her system, she didn’t miss the fondness in his eyes, the way his gaze never left her face, as if he couldn’t look away even if he’d wanted to.

And that’s when she realised that this hadn’t been just some quick shag for him. Hell, it’d been the culmination of nearly a year of long looks and little gifts from him. Of smiles and friendship and helping each other and saving each other.

“I want to take you to dinner,” he said, and she couldn’t help the goofy smile that took over her face, “and maybe a movie. I want to listen to you talk about your childhood, and everything after that. I want to learn all there is to know about you, Rebecca Welton. And, if you’ll have me, I’d like you to learn about me, too.”

“Of course I want to, Ted,” she said, without hesitation, shaking her head as if it were ridiculous that he’d think otherwise. “I want all that, too. I think—”

“That we could be something?” he asked, his thumb now softly caressing her cheek.

“No,” she said, and she saw the tiniest line appear between his eyebrows, “I know that we can.”

Ted smiled, and then chuckled softly, amused by her little joke. “Well you got me there, Ms. Welton,” he said, and she laughed. “I know we can, too.”

And then he leaned forward and kissed her softly, almost chastely, and when he pulled away, Rebecca could see the potential in his eyes. And it sent a shiver of hope right through the middle of her.

Reluctantly, she turned her head and laid it back down on the pillow as he pulled her against him. She reached up to switch off the light, and her last thought before they both fell into a dreamless liquor-induced sleep, was how wonderful it was to be held by someone again.

The next morning, however, she felt as if she’d been hit by an articulated lorry, and she groaned with irritation when she saw she was alone in bed. Of course he wouldn’t have a hangover, she’d thought. Not Ted Lasso. And judging by the smells wafting in to her bedroom, he felt well enough to be cooking them breakfast.

She put on her dressing gown and slippers and found him in the kitchen, flipping pancakes and singing an Elvis tune and being incredibly adorable. She stood there, watching him for a second or two, a big soppy smile on her face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said when he saw her, and she couldn’t help the rush of affection she felt in spite of her pounding headache. “How ya feelin’?”

“Not great,” she said, shrugging a shoulder, “you?”

“Ah, I’m fine,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “But then I’ve got sixty pounds on you,” he said, eyeing her frame, and she couldn’t help the little shiver that went through her as his eyes took her in. He added the pancake in the frying pan to the stack on the plate next to him. Rebecca noted bacon there, as well, and scrambled eggs.

“Good lord, Ted, you didn’t have to cook all that. I’m not exactly feeling ravenous right now.”

“Nonsense,” he said, switching off the stove and placing the frying pan in the sink. He grabbed the plates and headed toward the table. “A good breakfast is the best thing to cure a hangover. I learned this from a doctor friend of mine. Your blood sugar’s low, so you gotta feed yourself.” He placed the plates on the table and turned back toward her.

Ted looked almost nervous as his eyes met her, and she smiled in spite of herself at seeing him vulnerable like this. Their relationship had now been changed irrevocably, but it didn’t feel all that different. In fact, it felt like it fit. Like the final puzzle piece had just clicked into place.

She was starting to wonder if his words to her the night before had been a dream when Ted crossed the distance between them, cradling her face in his hands and kissing her soundly, despite the fact she hadn’t yet gotten the chance to brush her teeth.

She could get used to this, she thought, as he kissed her, as his hands snaked their way around her waist. Her and Ted, together. She wanted to get used to this.

“C’mon,” he said, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against hers momentarily, “let’s eat.”

She was helpless to obey him, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and the maple syrup from the cupboard as Ted got the dishes and cutlery. She sat down and they ate. And Ted was right.

She did feel better afterwards.

Things just went on from there. He did take her on that date. And dating Ted Lasso put her faith back in dating as a whole. They’d gone out to a nice French restaurant, and despite his unfamiliarity with the cuisine, he’d eaten everything he’d ordered.

He’d made her laugh like she was twelve again, to the point that she’d actually had to ask him to knock it off lest she choke on a clam from her bouillabaisse. It was just so much fun to be with him. He was kooky and silly and absolutely adorable, and now that they were on the same level, now that she no longer had this terrible secret colouring every single conversation they had, their relationship had begun to blossom like wildflowers after a good bit of rain.

And by the end of the night she was starting to realise that she couldn’t get enough of him.

They spent time together outside of work every day that first week, but agreed to keep it PG (his words). Just little get-togethers at either his place or hers. Watching films and eating popcorn. Going for strolls through Richmond, her arm looped through his. Talking, of course. About their lives, their loves. Their childhoods and young adulthoods and their hopes and dreams.

One night, Ted let her help him bake a batch of his famous biscuits, and she tried valiantly to memorise the order of the ingredients. But he was savvy to her ways, distracting her with kisses and plying her with biscuits, and by the end of the evening, she’d totally forgotten the recipe.

It was on the Friday, cuddled up to him on her sofa, listening to Ted tell her a ridiculous story about having to house a llama in his college dormitory for the night, when she realised that she was fairly certain she was falling for him. And then he’d turned to her, and had stopped short when he’d seen the look in her eyes, rendered speechless by what she knew was her feelings, written all over her face.

But Ted hadn’t said anything. He’d just smiled knowingly, in that way he did, and given her a little nod, and had then continued with his story.

The next evening he’d taken her back to his charming little flat, and had cooked her a very delicious and very Midwestern dinner of ribs slathered with his special barbecue sauce and mashed potatoes slathered in his very special gravy alongside a generous helping of green beans, and she’d been completely blown away. She’d had no idea American food could taste that good.

Afterwards, they’d both helped clean up, and as they stood next to each other at the counter, she’d felt that little spark again, that little frisson of expectation and hope.

And, as if he were reading her mind again, Ted’d gone and put on a bloody record. An actual vinyl record, on a turntable, and then he’d turned, and held out his hand to her. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes when the song started and she’d just smiled at him, shaking her head incredulously as the soulful stirrings of ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’ filled the room.

Percy Sledge warbled, and it was incredibly cliché, but Rebecca had been helpless to reach out and softly place her fingers in his palm. And then they’d danced, with her unable to ignore the implications of the song he’d chosen, but finding herself unable to care. They danced to song after song of soul classics, the wine they’d had with dinner sloshing around in their bellies and softening the edges of their day and the newness of this thing between them.

And after that, he’d taken her to bed and made love to her. There really was no other way to describe it. It’d been years since it had been anything other than sex for her. Ted’d spent hours worshipping her body, making her feel like a fucking goddess. He made her come more times than she had in the last six years with Rupert. And then when they were both sated, cuddling up sleepily and sweatily together, she knew, then, that there was no turning back. Ted was it for her.

And she hadn’t cared one whit.

Until now. Now, as her stomach rebels, forcefully ejecting its contents into the waste bin once again.

“Darlin’,” Ted says, delicately, as he hands her a tissue once again. “You sure there’s not something else goin’ on?”

“I’m sure it’ll clear up, Ted,” she says, even while she’s fairly certain she knows what’s been causing all these past few strange weeks. But she doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want to admit to him that their chances for becoming parents, while low in the first place, have now bottomed out.

He helps her up once again, but this time they don’t return to the conversation they were having before she was overtaken by her brutal nausea.

“Are you sure—” Ted starts, looking down at her desk. His tone is hesitant, which is so unlike him a spike of dread suddenly runs through her. “I mean, it’s just that—” he lets out a breath “—what I mean to say is, that it reminds me of—”

“Out with it,” she says, her tone brooking no argument. Her mouth tastes of acid and bile and she’s dizzy and tired and she really just wants to go home right now. Ted looks up at her, a touch of surprise in his stupidly deep brown eyes.

He takes a big breath, plastering a big smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are ya sure you’re not pregnant?” he asks, as delicately as a man like Ted Lasso can.

But Rebecca’s fairly certain she’s gone deaf, or something, because there’s a ringing in her ear, and then suddenly everything gets a little blurry. The next thing she knows, she’s on the couch next to Ted, who’s holding a wet washcloth to her forehead.

“Hey, there, cutie,” he says, and Rebecca gives him a look. “You lucid?”

“Yeah,” she replies, shaking her head. “What happened?”

“Just got a little dizzy,” he says, nodding and smiling, as if this episode of hers explains everything. “Blood sugar’s probably low. Blood pressure, too. Here,” he says, offering her a juice box of orange juice with the straw already in. She smiles wanly in spite of everything and takes it from him, sipping it gingerly. “Didja hear what I said, though, Rebecca? Before you—”

“Yes,” she says, weakly, sipping the orange juice, “but I don’t see how—I mean, I can’t be—” she trails off lamely, shaking her head rapidly. “I’m too old, Ted.”

“You know, I just realised I don’t actually know—can I ask—” he says, and she glances up at him. “I know it’s supposed to be impolite, but how old are you, exactly?”

She frowns at him momentarily, then takes a look around the room to make sure they’re alone. “Forty-fi—well, forty-four, actually. I’ll be forty-five in two months.” She shrugs a shoulder, flipping the washcloth over to its other, cooler side.

“That’s not old, Rebecca,” he says, as if she’s just told a funny joke, shaking his head. “Hell, that’s how old my aunt Martha was when she had my cousin Chad,” he says, nodding sagely.

“Good lord,” she says, “Chad?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, solemnly. “But he’s a good kid. Owns his own dealership down in Wichita and he’s doin’ well for himself. And Aunt Martha’s still alive, too.”

Rebecca can only hum in response.

“They’re great. Nice people,” he says. “Don’t get to see them that much anymore, but—it was all healthy as far as I remember. No complications.”

“I see,” she says, morosely.

“Look, I know. It’s very soon. And we’ve done this all backwards. I mean, Christ, if I could turn back time, like Cher can, I’d do it all differently, but—d’ya think it could be possible?”

She sighs, closing her eyes. Of course, it could. They’ve been mostly careful, but there’ve also been a number of boozy occasions when they haven’t been. It was stupid of her to let it happen, but her and Ted’s relationship had been a bit of whirlwind at the best of times. They’d gotten caught up in the moment, and it wasn’t as if she had any reason to think anything would result from it.

“You know it could,” she says, looking up him meaningfully.

“Ah,” he says, giving her a sheepish grin, “yeah. Little too much of that English beer of yours. I mean, when you’ve been raised on Bud Light, well—it’s very strong.” She rolls her eyes affectionately. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have asked. I thought you had it all—” he waves his hand in her direction “—taken care of. That was a bit sexist of me.”

“No,” she says. “I should have said something. I didn’t want to—well, you know. It’s not very sexy to talk logistics in the middle of making love.” Ted nods in agreement, grimacing slightly. “But to be honest, Ted, I really didn’t think it would be a possibility. Not at my age. Rupert would always tell me after I turned forty how even if we’d wanted a child, it would be too late for me. That my eggs were all dried up and—things like that.” She shrugs.

“And you listened to him?” he asks and she has no reply. It was stupid of her. But it wasn’t just him. The general consensus in Britain, and she suspects, most of the world, was that a woman’s fertility all but withered away the moment she turned thirty-nine. “Babe,” he says, reaching out for her hand, “I think I should go buy you a test, and I think that you should take it.”

Rebecca lets out a whimper, her free hand coming to rest on her face. This can’t be happening. She’s spent the last seven weeks lamenting the loss of her fecundity, coming to terms with it on her own. And now it’s all been flipped around. She’s not barren. In fact, there’s a very real possibility that there’s a foetus occupying her womb right at this very moment, growing and moving its little limbs and—she feels faint again.

It’s all too much, too soon, too mad. Even if it’s somewhat of a relief that she’s not reached the menopause, it’s still not the way she wanted this to happen. She wanted time with Ted, she wanted the space to be them. She wanted maybe an engagement ring and a wedding a few months after that. And then maybe they could have started thinking about parenthood. If it was something they had decided they wanted.

But not this. Not him knocking her up mere months into this thing of theirs before any of their friends or relatives even knew about their relationship. Christ, what the tabloids are going to say. What the team is going to say.

She starts crying. She can’t help it. She has to admit her hormones have been wonky for weeks now, but she admits that it feels like there’s more of them now, instead of less.

And, yes, she’s still waiting on her period. She was so sure it was the menopause. But now she knows now this should have been in the back of her head the whole time. She supposes she couldn’t bear to even hope.

“Hey, baby doll,” he says, getting up off the couch and kneeling on the floor beside her. His hands clasp around her shoulders and he leans in to softly kiss her forehead. Then he turns and reaches for another tissue off the coffee table to dab at her eyes. “You know there are options. We don’t have to do this, now. Or at all.”

She shakes her head. “I—couldn’t do that, Ted. Not—after all this time. I mean, if I am pregnant...I’ve always wanted children,” she says, softly, almost ashamed to admit it. “But Rupert didn’t,” she says, her tone suddenly steely. She looks up at him and sees that he understands the implication, now that Bex’s pregnancy is front page news. “Fucking pillock,” she says. She laughs mirthlessly, taking the tissue from him and wiping at fresh tears.

“Hey,” he says, brushing her hair back from her face. “Now I still do not know what that word means,” he says and Rebecca laughs; she can’t help it. “But I do know that that man got into your head, and your heart. And that you still hear him, sometimes, right here—” he says, tapping her on the forehead. “But he’s gone, babe. He’s not in our lives anymore and—hell—I’m not him.”

She smiles at him, shaking her head. “No, you are not,” she says with more force than she intended. “You are—just the most remarkable man, Ted Lasso. And while this situation is absolutely—mad, I would be honoured to have your child,” she says. The tears start again as she sees the hope in his eyes as he smiles at her radiantly, and she curses these new hormones.

“I love you,” he says, and she laughs, wetly. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it’s still new enough to send a little frisson of anticipation and excitement through her. She reaches out to gently cup his face.

“I love you, too,” she says.

“Good,” he says, nodding. “We’re gonna need all that love. Now you stay right here. I’m gonna go to that little shop on the corner. You know the one. I’m gonna get a test and we’re going to take it, okay? And then we’re going to figure out what to do.”

“Okay,” she says, softly, her voice sounding far away even to her. The tea in the teapot is still hot, and she watches Ted pour her a cup, dropping in a lump of sugar and a splash of milk and bringing it over to her, moving the coffee table closer.

“Thank you,” she says. He kisses her on the forehead, and then he’s gone.

But he’s back before she knows it, and she wees on the stick and leaves it, upside down, on her desk, as if it can’t hurt her if she can’t see it, then retreats back to the sofa. She sets a timer of two minutes on her watch.

Ted’s pacing a little, hands in his pockets, remarkably quip-free for someone she usually cannot shut up. He’s worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, his eyes a tad wider than usual, as if he’s drunk just a little too much coffee. But she knows he hasn’t.

“Boy,” he says, after an indeterminate amount of time, “two minutes is a really long time, isn’t it? I hadn’t really given much thought to that. I mean, think of all the two minuteses we pass every day, just watch ‘em go by, don’t say anything about ‘em—”

“Ted,” she all but begs, “please sit down.”

“You got it, babe,” he says, resuming his seat at her feet and patting her reassuringly on the leg.

She closes her eyes, wills the tears to stay at bay. She hates that she’s upset about all this. She hates that they’ve been put into this position. They should have gotten the chance to date like normal people, to not have to worry about the press or what the team thought, to not have to worry about Rupert and his continued existence.

Because, deep down, below the nervousness and the abject fear and the nausea, she’s happy about this. She’s happy about how her relationship with Ted is going. And now she’s happy that they could be having a child. Christ, it’s better than early menopause, that’s for sure. Hot flashes and vaginal dryness. She shudders.

She’d all but thought her dream of motherhood was over. But now—she smiles, briefly, unable to help it. She’s imagining her, and Ted, and a baby. In hospital, with Ted holding it in his arms. A little girl this time, with blonde hair and Ted’s brown eyes. A little girl with wit, and spirit, and the world wrapped around her finger.

She thinks of Ted reading to his daughter, affecting ridiculous voices and acting out little skits and making her laugh until she pees herself. She thinks of Henry visiting, now on the cusp of teenagerhood, playing football with his sister in the garden. She thinks of her and Ted as parents, helping her with her homework and taking her to school, giving her advice on how to put the bullies to shame and waving as she skips off toward her friends.

It’s intoxicating, this feeling, and dangerous, too, she knows. It’s what she’s always wanted, but she can’t regret not doing it sooner. She tries to imagine Rupert as a father but fails, even if she knows he’s set to be one in a couple months’ time. She imagines her children learning about their father’s true nature from the fucking tabloids, imagines him and his lecherous ways as their role model. Not to mention them growing up watching the way he treats their mother.

No, she can’t regret it. It’s better this way. This way their only child was the team, and now she has custody, even if he does get to see it every other other weekend. She can’t imagine having to coordinate school schedules and drop-offs, go to parent-teacher meetings and talk about their children’s behaviour with a man who’s still essentially a perpetual child himself.

She’s glad she waited. Glad she didn’t try harder to convince Rupert. And she’s so, so, glad that Ted Lasso came along, and that he’s here with her now, his hand a comforting weight on her leg. She opens her eyes to find him watching her, one corner of his mouth raised and the love he’s professed to her clear in his eyes. She smiles back, in spite of herself.

But then her wrist starts buzzing, and beeping, and her heart is in her throat.

“Ted,” she says, suddenly panicking.

“I’ll get it,” he says, giving her leg a squeeze and she smiles gratefully, shutting off the timer while he retrieves the little plastic stick from her desk.

He sits back down on the sofa, the test still upside down. Her eyes are on it, unable to look away.

“So how’re we gonna do this?” he asks, holding out the stick. “I count to three? Or, we draw straws? Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Oh, for god’s—” she says, and reaches forward in one fluid motion and takes it from him, turning it over and looking through the little window.

Two pink lines.

Her vision momentarily greys out, but she takes a few deep breaths, managing to stay conscious this time.

Oh, she is not ready for this. How can she be? How can they be? They’ve barely even known each other for a year. His bloody divorce was only finalised six months ago.

“Well?” Ted asks, and she very slowly hands him back the stick. He looks down at it and his eyes widen momentarily, but he just nods, and smiles, and looks back up at her.

But then a smile blooms on his face like nothing she’s ever seen from him before, and slowly, slowly, the tight ball of anxiety in her stomach starts to loosen. He’s ebullient, joyful, even, completely and utterly happy, and she can’t help but follow suit.

“We’re havin’ a baby,” he says, and she lets out a laugh and a sob at the same time.

Chapter Text

They manage to get out of Nelson Road without much ceremony. Rebecca calls her car, puts on her coat and her sunglasses and affects all the gravitas and confidence she does not feel, and not a single person she encounters on the way out has even the courage to look her in the eye.

Once she’s in the car, however, it all falls away, her heart rate rising and all of the anxieties Ted managed to assuage coming back to her at once. But then she sees him exit the stadium, his rucksack slung over one shoulder, still dressed in his AFC Richmond track suit, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

He jogs over to the car, climbing in breathlessly, and her driver peals out of the lot before anyone can follow. Ted takes one look at her and immediately slings an arm over her shoulder, pulling her against him.

When they get her home, he helps her change into something more comfortable and tucks her up into the sofa with a cup of tea, a bottle of water, a plate of store-bought biscuits (he apologises for not having any homemade ones) and some fruit, as well. He hands her the remote and leans down to kiss her forehead.

“You’re not staying?” she asks, the disappointment palpable. She hates herself for it, but with Ted around, this feels almost possible. But the second he’s out of sight she crumples like a piece of paper.

“You know we have practice,” he says, sitting down on the coffee table. “Training. I don’t wanna arouse any suspicions,” he says, genuinely regretful. “I don’t wanna leave you, babe. But I’m already trying to think up something to tell Higgins to excuse your absence.”

“Oh, tell him I have my period,” she says, chuckling mirthlessly at the irony. “He’ll turn all red like he does and he’ll never speak of it again.” Ted smiles and she sighs. He reaches out and takes her hand, lifting it up to kiss gently. “I just—it’s been such a whirlwind, Ted. I don’t want to be alone right now. It’s all happened so fast, and—”

“I know,” Ted says, nodding seriously. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk about where we were going with this—with us, I mean. And now—”

“It’s gotten fairly serious, hasn’t it?” she asks, giving him a shaky smile.

Ted laughs, nodding. “It certainly has,” he says, “but, darlin’—it’s always been serious for me. Right from the start.”

Rebecca’s smile strengthens as she looks into his big brown eyes. “It has for me, too,” she says, “I just—I wanted to take it slow. I’m still not where I want to be, Ted. Rupert casts a long shadow.”

“I know, I know,” he says. “And we’ll work through it. I’m here if you ever need to talk, okay?”

She nods, giving him a grateful smile.

“Now,” he says, giving her hand a squeeze. “Why don’t you call a friend or something to come sit with you?”

“Well,” she says, grimacing, “I only have two of those, and you already slept with one of them, so—”

Ted just laughs, his cheeks pinkening a little bit. She loves how embarrassed he still gets about it, despite the fact that he’s since spent time with her and Flo and there’s absolutely no awkwardness between them at all.

“Actually,” she says, getting an idea, “I might invite Keeley over.” She looks up at Ted. “We’re going to need someone to manage this, and I don’t trust Higgins, or our PR department.”

“Wait,” he says, his eyebrows going sky-high, “Keeley?”

Rebecca just nods, smiling. “She’s good, Ted. I see a bright future in PR for her. And we can trust her to be discreet.”

“Okay then,” he says, nodding his head rapidly. “No, yeah. I think you’re right.” He narrows his eyes. “Hmm,” he says, and she frowns at him.

“What is it?”

He shakes his head, and smiles at her. “I’s just thinkin’. Maybe I should get the Diamond Dogs involved.”

“The who?” she asks.

“It’s just—it’s just a nickname we—” he shrugs, almost sheepishly. “Beard, Nate, Higgins and myself. The Diamond Dogs.”

“And what exactly do you ‘Diamond Dogs’ do?”

“Oh, you know, relationship troubles, family troubles, what have you. We talk ya through it.”

“I see,” she says. “Well, let’s just leave—them for now. I think I have a plan.”

“Okay, then,” he says, in that way he does, and she smiles crookedly at him, at how he trusts her and more, how he has confidence in her abilities.

He leans down and kisses her one more time, and then he’s gone. And then Rebecca then suddenly finds the silence very loud indeed.

She grabs the TV remote and tries to find something to watch, cruising through the channels. She watches Bake Off for a bit, then cycles through the sports channels, but even the mention of the Premier League still fills her with guilt and regret.

She channel-surfs for a while, but everything else is doom and gloom and stupid, insipid reality trash.

She wants to invite Keeley over, but another part of her also wants to be able to sit in her own home and be perfectly fine being alone. She’s barely been divorced for a year, and she sometimes hates that she’s already getting so dependent on Ted. And not just Ted: Keeley, Higgins, Flo, Nate, even Beard.

She’s so rarely alone these days, and she knows that the future will bring times when she is forced to be that way. Times when Ted’s away, when the team’s away. Times when she’s left alone with this baby that she’s going to have.

But then a voice that sounds a little like Keeley asks her where this is all coming from. Why does she need to be okay with being alone? Because she’s afraid that Ted will betray her like Rupert did? Because she’s afraid she’ll let him down?

She spent years being alone while Rupert was off—doing what she later found out she was doing. And even though she’d had no idea he was cheating on her, she often felt alone even when Rupert was there. His company never was particularly companionable. And the total control he took over her life forced her to abandon the few friends she did have. She’d even stopped seeing her mother in the end.

So why should she have to be alone, now? These people who she’s met have changed her life completely, and for the better. Keeley and Ted have become her biggest fans, giving her the support that she’s lacked since before she married Rupert. Even Higgins has become indispensable to her now, his family regular attendees in the owner’s box for home matches. And her presence in the locker room has helped her make friends of most of the young men in the club and of the rest of the coaching staff.

And she’s never felt happier.

She smiles, glancing down at her phone sitting innocently on the coffee table. Despite her words to Ted earlier, she’s hesitant to tell Keeley. It still seems so unreal to her. And bringing in another person into this bubble will force her to confront the fact that it’s true.

But she supposes it beats sitting here, alone. And it’s Keeley. The young woman who’s fast becoming one of her best mates.

She sends her a quick text, which is off before she can even think about it, and, unsurprisingly, the younger woman answers her about three seconds later.

Where are you? Keeley asks.

My place. Took the day off. Rebecca says. Periods, you know

Right. Be there in 7

Minutes? Rebecca asks, but she doesn’t get an answer.

Five minutes later, she lets Keeley in.

“Good lord, woman, how’d you get here so fast?”

Keeley just shrugs, juggling two coffees in her hands, which are jiggling around precariously. “I was in the area,” she says, lightly, shedding her bag and hanging up her coat.

As Rebecca returns to the sofa, Keeley places the drinks on the table, then takes a seat in the armchair next to it.

“Here,” she says, handing Rebecca something in a red package. She looks down to see it’s a KitKat, and she smiles.

“Oh, thank you, Keeley,” Rebecca says. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“Chocolate always helps me when I’m on mine,” she says, picking up her drink and taking a deep draught. Then she turns to Rebecca, who can see the anticipation in her eyes. “But who cares about that, Rebecca? What is it? What’s going on? You never invite me over to your place,” she says, looking around. “Which is fucking huge and beautiful, by the way. Did you get this in the divorce?”

“Of course I did,” Rebecca says, opening the chocolate bar and handing a piece to Keeley.

“Thanks,” she says, taking a bite of it. “So, seriously, what is going on?”

Rebecca smiles at the younger woman’s concern, breaking off a piece of the chocolatey wafer and placing the remaining half on the coffee table.

Her head’s still spinning with everything that’s happened in the past few hours. Christ, her head’s still spinning from everything that’s happened with her and Ted in the last three months.

“Well,” Rebecca starts, taking a bite of the chocolate, “something’s come up, and I just needed someone to talk to.” She sighs. “And, well, someone to help me with a plan to manage it.”

“Manage what?” Keeley asks, concern on her face. Her eyes take in her friend, dressed in casual clothes and covered by a blanket, various refreshments laid out on the table in front of her. “You’re not ill, are you?” she asks, reaching forward to grasp Rebecca’s forearm, concern etched between her brows.

“No,” Rebecca says, “no it’s nothing like that. It’s—well—er,” she laughs uncomfortably, "I guess I’ll just tell you.” She finishes the chocolate and reaches forward to grab the mug of tea Ted left her. “I fucked up.”

Keeley frowns. “What d’ya mean? Wait. You didn’t fuck the team over again, did you?”

“No!” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “Of course not, Keeley!” She sighs. “Well, actually, it’s not so much me, as we, I suppose. We fucked up.” She takes a fortifying sip from her tea, then takes a breath, her eyes on the wall. “Ted and I.”

Keeley inhales the gasp to end all gasps, nearly choking on her own saliva in the process. “I knew it!” she says, slapping Rebecca’s thigh, the force of the blow thankfully dulled by the blanket.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Keeley says, smoothing down the blanket over Rebecca’s leg. “So is it what I think? You two finally—you shagged him, didn’t you?”

Rebecca just purses her lips, trying not to smile. She places the mug back down on the coffee table, avoiding Keeley’s eye.

“Oh my god! Rebecca!” Keeley exclaims, her little body vibrating with energy. She reaches forward and pulls Rebecca into one of her crushing hugs, but it thankfully doesn’t last as long as the one in Liverpool. “You little minx,” Keeley says, sounding almost proud. She shakes her head. “Took you two long enough! I mean, Christ! You’ve been making eyes at each other since you met.”

“Have we?”

“Yeah!” Keeley says, her eyes huge, nodding as if Rebecca’s an idiot. “Everyone’s talked about it. I mean, not in a, you know, scandalous way. They were curious. And it’s been especially obvious since you—told Ted the truth.”

“Really?” Rebecca says, genuinely surprised. But then she supposes she's always surprised when people pay attention to her.

“So, when did this happen? Tell me everything!”

Rebecca clears her throat. She reaches for her tea again, liking the weight of it in her hands. “Er, well, about—three months ago?” she says, taking a sip while she watches Keeley’s eyes bug out of her head.

“THREE MONTHS?!” she shouts, and Rebecca’s suddenly glad her next-door neighbours work during the day. Keeley taps her lightly on the arm, making her tea slosh around perilously. “All this time? Rebecca! Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends.” She pouts a little, and Rebecca gives her a conciliatory smile, patting her on the shoulder.

“We are friends. I’m sorry, darling, it’s just that everything started so—unceremoniously and Ted and I needed space to figure out exactly what we were.”

“What d’ya mean, unceremoniously?” she asks, and then, seeing Rebecca frown, she rolls her eyes. “I know what the word means, Rebecca, I just don’t understand what—”

“It was just stupid. We were drunk, I’d just broken up with John. Ted was miserable because Henry was ill and Michelle decided it was best he stay home. It was all so—ill-advised. We were both drowning our sorrows at the pub, and then I challenged him to a game of darts and—well—”

“You two fucked,” Keeley says, sagely, nodding as she sips her coffee. Rebecca laughs, shaking her head incredulously.

“Right,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “And, I know it’s silly of me, but I’d be lying if I said I wished it hadn’t started in a less—tawdry manner, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” Keeley says, nodding, “you wanted romance. Dates and meals and getting to know each other.”

“Correct.”

“Well, so what? Haven’t you got that now?”

“Well, yes,” she said, nodding. “We have, and we’ve been taking it slow—” she says, and catches Keeley’s disbelieving eye “—ish. I mean, yes, we’re shagging, but there hasn’t been any talk of the future, really, or, you know, any grand romantic gestures.”

“So how is it?” Keeley asks, a salacious gleam in her eye.

“Keeley!” Rebecca says.

“Well? What, do you expect me to not want to know about the probably fantastic sex the two of you are probably having every single night?”

“Every night? Keeley you do know Ted and I have got almost twenty years on you?” Rebecca asks, but Keeley shrugs.

“Yeah, but so what?”

“I’m not telling you about the sex,” Rebecca says, as Keeley pouts, “not yet.” She rolls her eyes at the girl. “Plus, I’m sure you’ve imagined it enough.”

Keeley laughs. “You know me so well, babe,” she says, giving her a wink. “I still can’t believe this. I mean, how serious is it, really? Have you said ‘I love you’ yet?”

“Maybe,” Rebecca replies, hesitantly.

“Oh my god! It is serious, then!” She shakes her head, managing to look disapproving even with a big dopey grin on her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Rebecca drains the last of her tea and places the mug back on the table.

“Yeah,” Keeley says, tentatively. “So—what’s the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said you needed me to help manage something. But you and Ted sound fine. Did something happen?” She gasps. “Did he propose?”

“No!” Rebecca says, rolling her eyes. “After three months?”

Keeley shrugs, “Well, what, then? You and Ted want to come out? So to speak?”

Rebecca nods, her stomach starting to roil uncomfortably.

“But why not keep it under the radar for a bit? I mean, it’s only been three months. Enjoy it. You know, before the whole team finds out? Before the tabloids get hold of it and you’ve got to deal with, you know, ‘Old Rebecca Chucks Mannion, Lassoes Lasso’ and the like.”

“You know, that’s pretty good, Keeley,” she says, one corner of her mouth raised. “Ted would have gotten a kick out of that.”

Keeley shrugs modestly. But her eyes continue to bore into Rebecca’s, waiting for an answer to her question.

“Right, right,” Rebecca says, sighing. “You remember when I said we fucked up?”

Keeley nods, frowning. “Yeah, but I mean, what—” then the penny drops, and she gasps, again taking in Rebecca’s prone figure on the sofa beneath the wool throw, the water, tea and food in front of her.

“Oh my god!” she says, standing up from her chair in one fluid movement. “Oh my god. You—” she starts, pointing at Rebecca, sounding almost a little out of breath. “You’re not on your period, are you?”

Rebecca shakes her head, smiling mirthlessly. “Haven’t been for about two and half months now, actually,” she says, wincing.

Keeley actually does then let out a squeal so shrill that Rebecca’s inner ear protests.

“I can’t believe it!” she says, lurching forward to pull her friend into another one of her crushing hugs. Rebecca winces as her ribs protest yet again. Then she actually hears Keeley sniffle.

“Are you crying?” she asks her, in wonder.

“Yeah,” Keeley says, still hugging her. “I’m just so happy for you guys! I mean after Rupert and his fucking—”

“Infant,” Rebecca replies. “And the baby, too, of course.”

Keeley laughs, her body still pressed against Rebecca’s and finally, finally, she pulls away, wiping the tears from her face. Rebecca leans over and grabs a couple of tissues for her.

“I really am,” Keeley says, kneeling beside the sofa as she blows her nose. “Happy, I mean. For you and Ted. It’s just going to be—so adorable. I mean, if there ever was a man who was made to be a father, you know what I’m saying?”

“Oh, I know,” Rebecca says. “It’s the only part of this I’m not nervous about. I just know he’ll be—fantastic. At every turn.”

“Oh, it’s going to be so sweet!” Keeley says, dabbing at her eyes, again. “I mean, yeah, it’s a little soon, but you both want kids, right?”

Rebecca nods. “But, it’s not like we really even got a chance to talk about it.”

“Right,” Keeley says, pensively. “Yeah, you’re right. About this needing to be managed.”

Rebecca nods, grimacing.

“Right,” Keeley says, getting up and pulling a small notebook out of her bag. She sits back down in her chair and clicks the pen she suddenly has in her hand. And just like that, she is all business. Rebecca can only goggle at her. “Here’s what I think, yeah?”

Rebecca just listens as Keeley gives her a fairly detailed plan about how, week by week, day by day, even, they’re going to use social media to leak just enough information to turn Ted and Rebecca into Brad and Angelina, pre-divorce, and get the fans to ‘ship’ them (Rebecca still isn’t quite sure what that word means, and Keeley’s definition is just something about The X-Files) and therefore make their official announcement just a formality.

“And that way,” Keeley says, “the tabloids have no choice. They read Twitter. They’ll just go with the fans’ consensus. No need to ruffle any feathers, am I right?”

“Well, it sounds good to me.” Rebecca says, nibbling at a strawberry. “What about the pregnancy?”

“Ah,” Keeley says, obviously waiting for this moment. “Well, do you remember how Angelina announced her first pregnancy?”

Rebecca screws up her face. “No! Christ, that was, what? Fifteen years ago? How do you even remember?”

“Well, they went to the Dominican Republic, for some sort of charity thing. Just casually pregnant, like it was no big deal. Of course, the press and the fans went MENTAL. I mean, it was absolute pandemonium. They released an official statement not long after that, but it was smart of them—because they controlled the narrative, yeah?”

“So you want me and Ted to go to the Dominican Republic?”

Keeley rolls her eyes. “I think Sainsbury’s will do the trick. Or, what do you think? Waitrose? Or is that too posh?” She writes a couple things down in her notebook. “Maybe just a quick pic of the two of you leaving your place in the morning? We want it to look natural, but not too natural, you know what I’m saying?”

“Rarely ever,” Rebecca says, and Keeley laughs in spite of herself. “No, no. I think I do. Basically, we just have to hint about Ted and me, get the fans on our side. And then, when I can’t hide it anymore, we arrange to be photographed somewhere completely banal, looking happy and pregnant and ecstatic about the future.” Rebecca smiles. “Preferably on the day when Bex gives birth to Rupert’s child.” Keeley nods, her eyes twinkling with something bordering on awe. “Or, the day after? What do you think? It would certainly take the wind right out of his sails.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” Keeley says, nodding at Rebecca with a slightly evil smile. “That’s what you need to realise, Rebecca. It’s a game. And we’re going to win it.”

Ψ

When Ted finally gets back to her place, she’s feeling much better about everything, looking over the detailed plan Keeley emailed her after she left. She knows she shouldn’t be surprised the woman knows how to manipulate the media as well as she does, considering she hasn’t really had a job title in years, and yet still manages to be at least marginally famous and flush with cash. Kind of like Rita Ora.

“Hey babe,” he says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “How ya feelin’?”

“Much better,” she says, as he takes a seat in the chair Keeley vacated. “I suppose I’ve been—running myself a bit ragged,” she says, giving Ted a shrug. “It was strange to lounge here all day, but the dizziness is gone.”

“Well, there you go,” he said, his expression only a little bit smug. “Did you go out?” he asks, pointing to the takeout coffee cup in front of Rebecca on the table.

“No,” she says. She takes a breath. “Keeley brought me that. I haven’t drunk it, though. I figure there’s enough caffeine in all the tea I’ve been drinking. I should probably start to cut back.”

Ted smiles at that, and nods, and she shakes her head in disbelief.

“Still can’t believe it,” she says. “Feels a bit like a dream.” She’s going to have to stop drinking alcohol, she realises, and start trying to eat better. It’s mad, this.

“Oh, I hear ya on that,” Ted says, shaking his head incredulously and running his hand through his hair. “I swear, I don’t even remember half the stuff I said at practice today. I was in a daze.”

“Can we do this?” she asks him, her voice sounding small as she reaches out for his hand. He clasps his larger one around hers.

“Absolutely,” he says, without hesitating, giving her hand a squeeze. “It’s gonna be hard, darlin’. I’m not gonna lie, but I ain’t got any doubts about me and you and this baby.”

“How can you be so confident, Ted?” she asks, and he gets up from the chair to kneel next to her on the floor, her hand still clutched in his.

“Dunno,” he says, his dark eyes seeking out her bright ones. “Just am.”

She smiles, because his words actually reassure her. “Thank you,” she says.

“For what?” he asks, his eyes bright with curiosity.

“For everything,” she says, feeling the nascent tears burning the corners of her eyes. “If you hadn’t come into my life when you did—” she shakes her head, not even wanting to consider the possibilities there. “You saved me,” she says, heaving a breath, still valiantly trying to hold the tears back.

“And you saved me,” he says. Rebecca shakes her head.

“No, I—”

“You did, darlin’,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “At the karaoke bar. It was—I don’t think you understand. I was terrified. Confused. But you brought everything into focus. What I needed to do. Why it was affecting me so much.” He lifts his hand to rest alongside her face, his thumb sweeping along her cheek softly. “It’d been there, from the beginning. It just took letting Michelle go for me to realise it.”

“What had?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.

“This,” he says, gesturing with their joined hands between them. “Us.”

“Really?” she asks, sitting up a little straighter.

Ted nods. “Oh yeah,” he says, nodding. “You intrigued me. Right from the beginnin’. I saw those fences you put up, but all I wanted to do was just hop right over ‘em. When I saw you were hurtin’, I just wanted to take care of you. And I mean, Jesus, woman,” he says, gesturing toward her, “look at you.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Ted,” she says, “you’re just trying to make me feel better. Because I’m going to be as big as a whale in a few months.”

Ted laughs deeply. “No, boss,” he says, his gaze travelling over her features. “You’re an absolutely stunning woman, you’re going to make an absolutely amazing pregnant woman and you’re going to be the most amazing mother any kid could have.”

She shakes her head, feeling the tears burning again. “That’s a lot of amazement for one woman to give,” she says, and Ted shrugs.

“Well, you don’ even have to try,” he says, and he raises himself up on his knees, his eyes deep and warm as he leans in to kiss her. It’s soft, at first, but there’s no chasteness to it, not as her arms wrap round his back and pull him toward her.

When he breaks away, he’s got that look on his face again. The one that says he can’t quite believe she’s real, that they’re real. She’s not sure she’ll ever get used to it.

She shakes her head and smiles. “I made a doctor’s appointment,” she says, and she sees a flurry of emotions cross Ted’s face, but he settles on a soft smile. “It’s in two days. I managed to make it for a time when we’re both free on Thursday, but—”

“We’re gonna have to find a legit excuse to be absent?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “But I’ve got an idea.” She sits up and reaches around Ted to grab the sheet of paper she printed.

“What’s this?” Ted asks. She watches as his eyes skim the words, a furrow appearing between his brows.

“That,” she says, “is Keeley’s plan. For us.”

“Wow,” Ted says, genuinely surprised. “This is—you were right. She is good.”

“Tell me about it,” she says. “You know, if she manages to keep the press we get mostly positive, I’ll hire her on full-time. I don’t even care what her price is,” Rebecca says, chuckling mirthlessly.

Ted nods, looking up from the list for a second. “You think she can find an excuse for us to be out of the building on Thursday for a couple hours?”

“Oh, I know she can,” Rebecca says, and Ted smiles, reading through the last few items on Keeley’s list.

“Well, I’ll be,” he says, placing the sheet of paper back on the coffee table, and turning back to Rebecca, looking impressed. “This might actually work.”

Chapter Text

When Ted Lasso wakes the next morning, he is momentarily confused at the softness of the sheets he’s ensconced in. It’s a Wednesday, but he’s certainly not in his little apartment on the edge of Richmond Green.

And then he realises—he stayed over at Rebecca’s the night before. And more—it’s because they found out yesterday that she’s pregnant.

He sits up in bed, actually sits right up, a spike of shock coursing through him as he remembers. He takes a few deep breaths as he thinks of the day before. Then he glances at Rebecca, sleeping silently next to him, her bare, slack face taking ten years off her appearance. He smiles as he watches her, dead to the world. She's been sleeping heavier than usual, and he realizes now what the reason is, cursing himself for not catching it sooner.

It’s still dark out, not quite six yet, but Rebecca’s alarm will be going off in a little while, forcing her from her precious slumber and the two of them out of their little bubble and into work. Keeley’s already got some ideas to run by them, and Ted is actually sort of eager to see how she’s going to get them out of this pickle they’re in.

So far, hiding their relationship has been surprisingly easy. As the owner and the manager, respectively, they already spend a great deal of time together, so he never really needs an excuse to visit her in her office. The players and coaches have commented on her more frequent visits to the locker room and his office, but their response has been generally positive, happy to see the owner of the team taking a more active role in the upkeep of the club.

Part of the success comes from the fact they’ve reserved their coupledom for weekends only, as Ted knows that Beard’s eagle eye is legendary, and more so, that his and Ted’s little walks to work in the morning have become fertile ground for ideas for plays and training drills. As well, Beard and Nate tend to show up at his place whenever they feel like it, and even sometimes players drop by if they've got something to run past their gaffer. So even if it he hates sleeping alone those nights, staying over at each other’s places on weeknights is expressly verboten. Usually.

That said, he’s fairly certain Beard knows about him and Rebecca already, anyway, and is keeping schtum until they decide to announce it to everyone. And Ted can’t help but love the man for it.

At work, their dynamic hasn’t really even changed that much. They’re a little softer with each other, a little sweeter behind the closed door of her office, but they’re also mature enough and ambitious enough to keep their minds on the game, both so laser-focused on the task ahead that they can concentrate on little else.

But it’s different now, he realizes, as he watches Rebecca sleep. According to the little piece of plastic she’s stowed in her bedside table, they’ve somehow managed to conceive a child.

It’s a little difficult to process, and if he’s honest, he’s a little annoyed with himself for putting her in this position in the first place. Despite the fact that the two of them are very much devoted to each other, even if the casual arrangement of their relationship would suggest otherwise, Rebecca is still an unmarried woman. An unmarried woman whom the press has already had a field day with.

He can only imagine the headlines if her pregnancy becomes common knowledge before Keeley works her magic. They’ll say all sorts of terrible things that he doesn’t even want to think about. They’ll undoubtedly bring Rupert back into the narrative, too, and just when it seemed like they’d finally given up on that angle.

And that can’t happen. He won’t let it.

Because Rebecca’s self-esteem has grown in leaps and bounds in the few months since they’ve last seen Rupert, her relationships with Ted and even John Wingsnight helping her regain the confidence in herself as a woman that she’d lost after spending so many years under his thumb. And not only that, working in concert with him, and Higgins, and Keeley and Beard and Nate to bring their football club back from the brink has changed her entirely. Being a valued member of the team, and having a goal to work towards, one that isn’t toxic, forcing her to manipulate and lie to those she trusts and cares for, has seen her start to blossom into her role as owner of the club, a role Ted starting to think she was made for.

So with a football club to manage and a baby on the way, Rebecca definitely doesn’t need negative press about her right now, stirring up the old insecurities, and she absolutely doesn’t need her ex-husband back in her life, shattering that newfound self-confidence of hers.

A baby on the way. He sighs. The fact that she even got pregnant was a slip-up, on his part. He fucked up. He admits it to himself. Hell, they fucked up. Rebecca thought she was too old. And if he’s being realistic, he was under the impression that a couple of unprotected times would not have resulted in a child at their ages, statistically speaking. Neither of them was a spring chicken.

But somehow, it did. Somehow a sperm met an egg and a little ball of cells formed and implanted, and now he’s staring down fatherhood for the second time in nine years.

But he can’t lament that fact. Yes, it looks bad. It will look bad, once the news is out and everyone does the math. But he just looks down at her, sleeping soundly while their child grows inside of her, probably dreaming of the future (which, from where he’s sitting, looks very bright indeed) and he can’t regret it.

He thinks of her smile earlier today. The one that lit up her face, once the shock and fear started to subside. Once she realized that she was actually happy. He could see it, in her eyes. That joy, beneath everything. She’s happy about this baby. And if Rebecca’s happy, then, there’s no question for him, really.

Because he loves her more than he thought he’d ever love another woman. And it had been so effortless with her. So much easier than it had been with Michelle, even at the beginning. And sure, it had hurt a little when he compared his and Rebecca’s blissful few months to the last few months with Michelle. Those had been—almost intolerable, for both of them. Hurtful. Toxic.

But with Rebecca it is as natural to him as throwing a football. The egg-shaped one, not the black and white one. He doesn’t even have to try. He doesn’t have to work his ass off to make her happy.

He doesn’t have to try to make her love him.

Because he’s enough for her. Just him, the way he is. Silly, sunny, hopelessly optimistic Ted. She loves him. She likes him, too. Likes being around him, likes waking up next to him and spending the better part of her week alongside him. And it’s so refreshing and fulfilling and freeing, and more—it’s helping him heal. Helping him patch up the wounds left from the last few months of his marriage.

So, no, he has no reservations about having a baby with Rebecca Welton. It’s going to be tough, with Henry on the other side of the Atlantic and with the constant media scrutiny they’re going to be under. Their relationship is still new. He’s still learning new things about her, they’re still acclimatizing to each other and learning how to take up each other’s space.

And she is his boss, still, even if Ted’s completely fine with that. He knows the importance of boundaries with her, and she certainly would never cross those lines, either. They’re both extra busy right now working their butts off to get their football club promoted to the Premier League, as well. And he knows this will leave them precious little time for them, and will force Rebecca to balance experiencing her first pregnancy with long days and stressful press conferences and interviews. And, not to mention, of course, the football matches themselves.

But Ted tries to put all that in the back of his mind, and focus on Rebecca’s happiness. Rupert Mannion kept her under his thumb for twelve years, subjugated and denigrated her into submission all while denying her her dream of becoming a mother. And he hates to consider that anyone would be so cruel, but Ted can’t help but think that the man denied her her wish simply because it was her wish. So he tries to focus on finally giving her that wish, and on how happy becoming a mother will make her.

Because Ted’s fairly certain that this new child Rupert’s having with Bex was conceived simply to punish his ex-wife for having the audacity to leave him.

And if it’s true, it’s diabolical, really. Sociopathic. He hopes he’s wrong. He hopes that this innocent child isn’t simply a pawn in Rupert’s game to—what? Win Rebecca back? Ted doesn’t know. And he doesn’t want to know. But it’s something he’ll have to keep an eye on. Because the man has a knack for showing up uninvited and unwanted.

He shuffles it to the back of his mind. They’ll deal with that later. Now, they focus on them. On making sure their child and its mother are healthy. He’ll figure everything else out later. Once everything is settled, the news is out and Rebecca is sporting an adorable baby bump, it’ll be fine. Babies tended to smooth over even the hairiest of situations.

He’ll be putting down roots here, in a country he still knows very little about, 4438 miles away from everything he’s ever known. It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure. But he’s not worried.

Because Rebecca is here. Which means his life is here. It’s as simple as that. He’ll talk to Michelle. He’ll go back home and visit his son when he can. Hell, he’ll get the courts involved if he has to. But he will spend time with Henry, and he will bring him to Richmond to meet Rebecca, and, eventually, his new brother or sister.

He needs his son to be part of this. That’s nonnegotiable. He doesn’t want him growing up thinking his father abandoned him for his new family, just up and left and went to a new country, met someone new forgot about him. Ted knows what it’s like to lose a father, to spend your teen years needing advice from a man who’s no longer around. He won’t do that to Henry.

But the thing is, if Michelle doesn’t budge— he’s afraid that that could happen.

He gets out of bed, trying his very best not to disturb Rebecca, and pads to the bathroom. He does his business and then stares at himself in the mirror, still unable to believe that the news he and Rebecca learned the day before is true.

He watches as the corner of his mouth twitches up, then the other, and suddenly there’s a full-fledged smile on his face. He knows it’s soon. Way too soon. He and Rebecca had just begun to fall into the routine of a relationship, had just started to talk about telling friends and family about them. He’d actually been planning to let Michelle know about it during their next monthly telephone call.

Michelle, he thinks, the smile sliding off his face. He turns and leaves the bathroom, unable to keep his heart from leaping when he catches a glance of Rebecca, still sleeping soundly among her 500-thread-count sheets.

He creeps into the living room, picking up the remote and turning on the sports channel. He puts the volume down to minimum and flops down on the couch, sighing deeply.

Speaking to Michelle about Henry is one thing. But telling her about him and Rebecca—well, he isn’t quite sure how his ex-wife will react. Even though Michelle has been seeing someone for months now—which Ted is completely fine with—Rebecca isn’t just…someone.

Michelle was completely intimidated by AFC Richmond’s statuesque owner on the one occasion they met. She found Rebecca imposing and tall, much as Keeley had before she’d actually gotten to know her, and after Ted had formally introduced Henry and Michelle to Rebecca in her office, Michelle quieted noticeably.

And later, as they watched their son kick a ball around with Beard on the pitch, Michelle asked him if anything was going on with him and Rebecca.

He denied it, forcefully, but Michelle seemed difficult to convince.

“Your eyes lit up when you saw her, Ted,” she said, and he tried to deny it.

He tried to explain that Rebecca was coming off a difficult divorce, that he was simply trying to get past the walls she put up and foster a good working relationship with her. But Michelle only gave his explanations a sad smile.

Later, once Michelle had gone and Rebecca had come to him in Liverpool, her soft, cool hands caressing his face, her voice like a balm on his psyche, calming him, bringing him back from the brink, he started to wonder if maybe Michelle had been right.

And then later, when she came to him again in his office, prostrating herself before him, admitting her ploy to him, he was surprised to find he could not summon up even one little bit of anger toward her. It just wasn’t there.

She’d already been through so much. Rupert had destroyed her, and now she was building herself back up the only way she knew how. All he wanted to do was to forgive her, to relieve her of her immense burden and help her back onto the right track. He wanted her at his side, to have his back and for him to have hers.

And when she threw herself into his arms, their bodies pressing up against each other for the second time in mere months, he knew. Michelle had been right. But then he supposed it wasn’t particularly surprising. His former wife knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe that had been part of the problem.

But now, the thought of calling Michelle and telling her that he and Rebecca are making a life together gives him indigestion. He’s not sure why. They’re adults, divorced for the better part of a year, now, and perfectly entitled to be finding someone new. He supposes it’s petty of him, not wanting to admit to something he denied so strenuously only eight months before.

But he has to do it. He won’t tell her about the pregnancy. Not yet. That will be later, just before they decide to release it to the press. He knows she won’t be happy, not about either of these little nuggets of news.

Telling her about the baby will be the kicker. And it won’t be because she’s jealous, or resentful. He knows her well enough. It’ll be the fact that he’s decided to put down roots here, to leave everything that they shared as kids, as husband and wife, and make a new family with someone else in an entirely new country. He’s fairly certain Michelle still thinks he’s coming back to Kansas, eventually. And Ted doesn’t see a scenario in the near or far future where he would ever think of doing that.

He hears footfalls behind him and he smiles.

“What are you thinking about?” Rebecca asks as her hand alights on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He looks up at her, smiles at her messy ponytail and her bare lips and eyelids, the face that she unfortunately doesn’t let anyone else see.

She rounds the sofa, settling down next to him, and he pulls her against his side, his hand snaking around her waist and settling below her bellybutton. She smiles at him as he presses his fingers gently into the firm flesh there.

“Still can’t believe it,” she says, shaking her head gently.

“You will,” he says, nodding. He remembers the early days of Michelle’s pregnancy with Henry. It took months for it to finally hit home with him that there was an actual little person in there. “Give it time.”

Rebecca nods, resting her head against his shoulder. “You didn’t answer my question, Ted.”

He sighs. “I—” he starts, shaking his head. “Michelle,” he says, softly, almost apologetically.

“Ah,” Rebecca says. “Thought that was it.”

“Really?” Ted asks, and Rebecca raises her head, looking at him in the dim blue light.

“You don’t know what to do about her,” Rebecca says. “I can tell. She’s kept Henry at home twice now. And now you’re going to have to tell her that you’re having a baby with someone else.” She gives him a sympathetic smile and he pulls her tighter against him, kissing her on the temple.

“Yeah,” he says. He sighs, deeply. “I want Henry to be involved,” he says, nodding. “I want you to meet him, have a relationship with him. And, babe, I’ll be honest. I have no idea what Michelle’s going to say when I tell her about you, never mind when I tell her about the baby.”

Rebecca leans back against Ted’s chest. “I know,” she says, pensively, nodding. “It’s a tough situation. But, I think—” she starts “—that there’s enough love left between you two. Enough so that she’ll understand.”

“You think so?” Ted asks, gently kissing the crown of her head.

“I hope so,” she says. “I do want to meet your son, Ted. I want him to be a part of our lives. He deserves to be. You know she can’t keep—”

“I know,” Ted says, sighing deeply. The court awarded joint custody, but Michelle was granted primary physical custody, which means Ted has the right to spend time with his son, but he and Michelle still haven’t worked out a regular arrangement. Rebecca got him two weeks in Kansas City in late June, and it had been fantastic. But Ted’s attempts to bring his son into his life later in the summer hadn’t worked out, and while he understood Michelle’s reticence to send him, he still didn’t think it was in the boy’s best interests.

He does not want to separate his son from his mother. But he knows Henry has already started to view his father as just a face on his computer. His son needs more than that. Ted needs more than that.

“You’re right,” Ted says, finally. “I will talk to her. I want you to meet him.”

Rebecca lifts her head from his shoulder and smiles at him. The sun is starting to come up now, the sky lightening to a pinkish glow above the horizon.

She nods, though he sees the hesitancy in her eyes, now. She’s just learned she’s going to be a mother. And now he’s asking her to be a stepmother, too.

“He’ll love you,” Ted says, kissing her cheek softly.

“If you say so,” she says.

“I do say so,” he says. “How could he not?”

She laughs incredulously, and even with her hair mussed from sleep, in her robe and rumpled pajamas, she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

He leans forward and kisses her sweetly.

“Now, come on,” he says, “I’ll make you breakfast. You’re eating for two now.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

“Ted,” she groans as he gets up. “I knew you were going to say that.” She rolls her eyes.

But Ted can’t help catch the way one corner of her mouth curves upwards.

Ψ

She drops him at his apartment after breakfast, and he showers and dresses and packs his bag for the day, opening his front door to see Beard standing there, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Didn’t see you last night,” he says, and Ted shrugs nonchalantly.

“Was going over some quarterly reports with Rebecca,” he says.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Beard asks.

Ted just purses his lips to keep the smile at bay, pretending like he didn’t hear it.

But, mercifully, Beard saves him. “So tell me about this new midfielder you’re calling up,” he says.

Ted smiles, and nods.

The rest of their conversation is purely football-related.

Ψ

Ted greets his team, his staff, then takes the little pink box he took from the fridge and makes the daily trip up to her office.

“Knock, knock,” he says, after actually knocking, “cookie delivery service." He smiles when he sees her at her desk, legs crossed and hair perfect, pen in hand as she jots down something or other. She’s the consummate professional, despite the tumult of the past 24 hours, and he can’t help but love her for it.

“Close the door,” she says, without even looking up, and Ted’s eyebrows go skyward as he complies, approaching her desk.

“Ooh,” he says, salaciously. “I gotta warn you, boss, I’ve got a fantasy that starts just like this.”

Rebecca looks up from whatever she’s writing and when the early-morning sun hits her, it almost takes his breath away. She’s stunning. She’s glowing. How had he not noticed before?

She raises an eyebrow at his joke, taking the biscuits from him wordlessly, smiling up at him in thanks for the gift.

“How ya feelin’?” he asks, flopping down into the chair across from her, unable to take his eyes off her.

“Better,” she says, delicately extracting a biscuit from the box and taking an elegant bite. “Much less queasy. But I can’t concentrate on anything,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, what, I’m just supposed to just go on with my life, pretend like everything’s normal and just—not tell anyone?”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” he says. “I wanna get the Diamond Dogs together, I wanna tell Beard so bad, but I can’t. I mean, I’m 90 percent sure he already knows about you and me anyway, but we gotta wait, right? At least until—”

“We know it’s going to stick?” she asks, delicately wiping crumbs from her mouth.

He cocks his head at her. “I didn’t mean that. I just mean that we’ll have to see what the doctor says, right?”

She nods, her lips slightly pursed and her bright blue eyes downcast.

“Babe,” he says, scooching his chair closer to her desk. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? We’ll go to the doctor, they’ll take some blood, do an ultrasound. We’ll get a li’l picture we can take home. Put it on the mantelpiece.”

One corner of her mouth twitches up as she glances at him.

“I’m just worried,” she says. “That something will go wrong. That something will be wrong. With the baby.”

Ted scooches even closer, the edge of her desk now pressing uncomfortably into his ribcage as he reaches for her hand.

“I know,” he says, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, “it was the same with Michelle and Henry. Doesn’t matter what age you are, Rebecca. Something could go wrong; something could be wrong. But there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll know soon, and let me just say—something tells me that this baby is absolutely fine.” He gives her a smile he hopes is comforting.

“How can you know, Ted? I mean, you know the risks at my age—”

“Hey,” he says, shaking his head, “Rebecca, you cannot do this. You’ll drive yourself bonkers. By tomorrow we’ll have the ultrasound, then a few more weeks to get the bloodwork back, right? I mean, right? I don’t know what healthcare is like in this country.”

Rebecca smiles, seemingly in spite of herself. “It shouldn’t take long. I spoke with my doctor. They just do a blood test now. There’s enough of the baby’s DNA in my blood to see if there’s any abnormalities. Maybe a week or two.”

“Oh, well that’s great,” he says, relief flooding through him. “No more giant needle poking into your belly. I would say that that’s a plus.”

She nods, playing with the biscuit box with her free hand, her long, manicured fingers tapping against the side of it. He can see the nervousness radiating off of her. “I’m already getting attached to this baby, Ted,” she says, glancing up at him. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to it.”

“I know, babe,” he says, squeezing her hand, “I know. Believe me, I feel the same damn way. But we gotta be positive. We gotta hope. Baby’s got this far, hasn’t it? Without either of us even knowin’ about it. Kid’s gonna be fine.”

She smiles, nodding her head almost imperceptibly.

“Now,” he says. “I gotta go meet with Beard and Nate, go over some plays. Then I’ll see you in the press room at eleven with Keeley. You gonna be okay?”

Rebecca smiles, giving him a much more confident nod of her head. It breaks his heart to see her like this, and he wishes he could reassure her more, but the truth is that he’s just as terrified as she is. He knows the risks at her age—hell, at any age. Even if the baby is perfectly healthy, childbearing is a dangerous business, and she is already so dear to him that his brain is already imagining all sorts of terrible scenarios. Adding that to the guilt he already feels for putting her into this situation in the first place, before they’d even got a chance to discuss what they wanted—yeah. He’s not doing well. But he needs to be strong for her. He can break down later, when he’s alone.

“I’ll be fine,” she says.

“All right,” he says, getting up from his chair and coming around to take a seat on the edge of her desk, smiling at her with what he hopes is a reassuring expression. He reaches out to cup her jaw, and she closes her eyes at the touch, taking in a shuddering breath. He leans in and gives her a quick kiss on the forehead, expressly forbidden at work, but he knows he’ll be forgiven in these special circumstances. Plus, Higgins and the rest of the crew know that a closed door means ‘stay out’ in no uncertain terms. “Try to stay positive, babe. I can’t imagine we’ve been given this gift just to have it taken away.”

She smiles at this, just a little twitch of her lips, and he sees the light start to come back into her eyes. She nods, then, the grin widening, gaining confidence.

“I think you’re right,” she says, so softly it’s almost a whisper. “Love you.” She smiles as Ted leans in to kiss her again, on the lips this time, quickly but firmly, to let her know he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.

“Love you, too, baby doll,” he says, and she smiles.

Ψ

A few hours later, he enters the press room only to be assailed by five feet of blonde hair and pink tracksuit, a high-pitched joyful shriek assaulting his inner ear.

Keeley’s legs and arms are wrapped around his torso, and it occurs to him that despite her small stature, she is very, very strong. In fact, she’s currently squeezing the life out of him.

“Oh my god!” she screeches, and Ted can barely even manage to close the door behind him and lock it to keep prying ears and eyes from wondering why the hell Keeley Jones has attached herself to Coach Lasso like a backpack.

“Keeley,” he manages to say, glancing up to see Rebecca leaning elegantly against the desk at the front of the room, sipping a cup of tea and looking extremely amused with Ted’s current predicament. She offers him absolutely no help. “I need—I need to breathe.”

“Oh,” the young woman says, loosening her grip on Ted and sliding down him to the floor like a firefighter down a pole. “Sorry,” she says, once she’s back on her feet. She pats his chest a couple of times affectionately. “I’m just so excited for the two of you!” She squeals again, and Ted winces as it pierces his inner ear. “I can’t believe it!”

In all that’s happened, Ted supposes that he forgot the fact that Rebecca told Keeley both about their relationship and the pregnancy. It’s odd to have someone else in their little bubble. Someone they can actually talk to about it. But nice. And Ted’s seen Keeley’s plan, and it’s comforting as well. Because even if everything is all right with Rebecca and the baby, there’s still the press and the tabloids to contend with.

“Well, believe it, girl!” he says, giving her a wink. “In a few months from now, Rebecca will be coming to work in eggplant maternity power suits and slayin’ the heck out of them, if I do say so myself.”

“Fuck yeah, you will be,” Keeley says to her, and Rebecca just rolls her eyes, even if she’s currently radiant with joy. “Oh, you guys are just going to be the best parents!” Keeley clasps her hands in front of her and her small body vibrates with delight. “I mean, though, honestly,” she says, her disposition suddenly becoming solemn, “you guys really fucked up and, you know, jeopardized both your careers and the success of this team with your sexual irresponsibility.” She nods and Ted glances at Rebecca to see her raise her eyebrows in surprise. “But you know what?” Keeley asks.

“What?” Ted and Rebecca ask simultaneously.

“I can’t stay mad at you two!” Keeley says. “Both of you come here and give me a hug!”

“Keeley,” Rebecca says, not sounding particularly enthusiastic.

“Come on!” the younger woman says, pouting slightly, arms akimbo.

Ted can’t resist Keeley’s enthusiasm, and reaches out to snag one of Rebecca’s hands, pulling the reluctant woman toward Keeley, who quickly wraps her arms around both their waists, pulling them against her. It takes her a second, but Rebecca does eventually soften, wrapping her own arms around Keeley and resting her head atop hers. Then the three of them cling to each other for longer than Ted supposes is probably appropriate.

“Wow,” Rebecca says, affectionately, when Keeley finally lets them go. “Another long hug.” She adjusts the dark blue suit she’s wearing, brushing a few of Keeley’s long blonde hairs off the lapels.

“What can I say?” Keeley says, “I’m just so glad this—” she points to the two of them “—is finally happening, I mean—” she rolls her eyes, shaking her head “—I was getting a little sick of your UST.”

“Our what?” Rebecca asks, glancing at Ted. He just shrugs.

“Hey,” Keeley asks, completely ignoring Rebecca’s question. “Can I be godmother?”

Ted laughs, shaking his head. “Hey, Keeley,” he says, “I would totally say yes, like right now, but to be honest, I’m not even Catholic, or whatever you guys—”

“Anglican,” Rebecca answers. Keeley just shrugs.

“I was just joking, Ted,” Keeley says, “I mean unless—” She looks up at Rebecca with beseeching eyes.

“We will see,” she answers Keeley, her voice soft but firm. Ted can’t help but smile at the thought of Keeley teaching their child the same inappropriate things she’s currently teaching Phoebe.

“Well, all right,” Ted says, “that’s settled. Now, I’m told you have some sort of plan?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Keeley says. She picks up a bag off the floor. “Okay, you two, sit down, front row.”

Ted gives Rebecca a look at the sudden air of professionalism that has fallen over their friend. Rebecca just shrugs as Keeley climbs the steps up to the desk, as if she’s already seen her young protégée in action.

“Okay,” Keeley says. “So, I’ll be frank. Even if we manage to keep this under wraps and successfully execute every single item on this list, it’s still gonna be hard, this. You know the fucking Sun is going to say awful things about the two of you no matter what we do. And—there’s also Rupert to contend with,” she says, with a sympathetic smile. “But we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Keeley gives Rebecca a wink.

“Now,” Keeley starts. “Stage One. I know you guys get the gist of it, so I’m not going to go too into detail. But branding is very important. Believe me, I know. I made a career of it. But this is not going to be a collaboration with a company or a brand. You two are going to be the brand.”

“Okay,” Ted says, “I mean I’m startin’ to get it, but maybe you could—”

“So, currently, the players are the faces of the team. They appear in advertising, on the walls of the stadium, in TV and print ads, on the website and on social media. And that’s fine!” she says, shaking her head. “They still will. However, I’d like to start having the two of you as the other faces of the team. Now, I know—” she says, as Rebecca starts to protest “—it’s going to be weird to see yourselves everywhere, but I think it’ll help, in the long run. I mean, Ted, people really don’t know if they like you or hate you.”

Ted nods. “That’s fair.”

“I mean, the tides have started to turn. The fans are getting behind you now that the team’s doing better, but it’s very slow. They’re still pissed about Jamie and they think you’re too soft on the players.” She shrugs and Ted nods. “But they can’t argue with results. You’re starting to turn this team around. And Rebecca—people are starting to like you, too. I mean, now that Rupert is off doing his thing, and you’re doing yours and the papers have finally let up on you and him, and the team is winning games, fans have started to realize that you have the team’s best interests at heart, and you’re doing a good job.”

Beside him, Rebecca looks surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Keeley says, nodding enthusiastically. “I mean, you’re going to get the men who haven’t left their parents’ basements in years saying a woman has no place owning a team, but—they’re in the minority.” She takes a deep breath. “So, there’s no time like the present, really. I want to get some branding photos of the two of you, you know, wearing what you usually wear to work, looking like you’ve got your eyes on the prize and you’re both here for one thing: to bring this team back into the Premier League!”

“Okay,” Rebecca says, hesitantly.

“And then I want to get you guys wherever I can: posters, billboards, online ads, print ads. But mostly online. The website, specifically, and all of our social media accounts.” She takes a breath and pulls out a pink water bottle, taking a couple of gulps of water. “Hoo!” she says, clearing her throat. “This is a lot of talking, you know? You think I’d be used to it but—”

“Keeley,” Rebecca says, softly, keeping her on track.

“Oh, right,” she says, replacing the cap on her water. “So, social media—I want to get a few pics of you two on our Instagram, on the Facebook page, on Twitter, basically anywhere people can comment. That way, I can kind of—monitor the response.”

“And the response you want is—” Rebecca says.

“I want them to realize what you two still don’t realize.”

“What’s that?” Ted asks.

“That you’re both super-fit and hot and you make a really great-looking couple and you’re going to have a really beautiful, tall baby!”

Ted laughs. He can’t help it. He glances at Rebecca to see her fighting a smile.

“That’s very lovely of you to say, Keeley,” Rebecca starts, “but what does that have to do with—”

“People like that sort of thing, Rebecca. Beyoncé and Jay-Z. Posh and Becks. Brangelina,” she says.

“Such a shame what happened to those two,” Ted says.

“Right?” Keeley says. “But remember them in their prime? People cared about them. Like, a lot. They were obsessed. And it was like they couldn’t do anything wrong. As soon as everyone found out they were a couple, it was insane. I mean, I was only a teenager when it all went down—” beside him, Rebecca groans, and Ted tries to keep his face straight “—but I remember! And then when she got pregnant, and, like, not long after they got together, mind you, people went nuts again!”

“But how are you going to make people start fawning over Ted and me as they did for two very attractive, well-known movie stars?” Rebecca asks. “That’s the part that gets me.”

“You just leave that to me, Rebecca,” Keeley says. “Me, Keeley Jones, your new Social Media…Manager?”

Rebecca cocks her head at her, unamused. But Ted nudges her shoulder with his.

“Come on, Rebecca,” he says. He’s starting to understand what Keeley’s saying, and if it keeps Rebecca from getting attacked in the press, he doesn’t care if Keeley wants to put his face on a billboard—he’ll do it.

“All right,” she says. “I will draw up a contract, and we’ll negotiate on salary—”

Keeley squeals in delight. “Thank you!” she says, getting up from her seat, and approaching Rebecca. Ted watches in amusement as Rebecca reluctantly gets up and gives her friend a brief hug. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, Keeley,” she says, giving her a nod.

“Now,” Keeley starts up again, once she's regained her seat, “once the photos are out, I’ll start to monitor and, well, let’s be real—encourage the commenters. I don’t actually think it’ll be too hard. You know, with a nice, professional picture of the two of you with a little write-up, like ‘Ted Lasso and Rebecca Welton have been managing AFC Richmond for eleven months now, and—’ you get the picture. And then—we’ll see if we can get a really flattering piece on the two of you done. I don’t know, maybe The Independent? You know Trent Crimm quite well, Ted.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, nodding, “Rebecca and I can talk to him.”

Keeley smiles. “I would like it to be, like, a proper profile on the two of you, with some new photos with both of you dressed much more formally, so people see you like they haven’t ever seen you before. And it’ll be casually mentioned that you’re both recently divorced and you work well together and blah blah—” she shrugs, laughing “—and to be quite honest, I don’t think I’ll have to do much of anything after that. The people will take care of the rest.”

Ted nods appreciably, turning to Rebecca, who does not look entirely opposed to what Keeley’s just told them.

“And that’s Stage One?” Rebecca asks.

“Correct,” Keeley says, “this is going to be the toughest one, in my opinion. Bringing people over to our side and getting them to at least start to like you two. And then, eventually, we want them to start to question what’s going on between the two of you.”

Rebecca nods. “And then what's next?”

Ψ

After Keeley’s little lecture, Rebecca is feeling much more confident about the media situation than she was earlier in the morning. She returns to her office, ascending the stairs slowly. She’s hitting her post-lunch wall, the exhaustion creeping in before she’s even at the top of the stairs. She can’t wait to lock her door and grab the wool throw she’s hidden under the cushions and have a soft afternoon nap.

Now that she knows what’s causing her exhaustion, it is still annoying. But now, it’s at least somewhat comforting to her. As long as she still feels a bit queasy in the mornings, as long as her skirts keep getting snugger in the front and her bras a little tighter in the cups, the baby is still okay, still growing and developing inside her.

So, she grits her teeth through the heartburn and the constipation and the hormones, knowing they mean she’s just that little bit closer to having this kid out of her and in her arms.

When she sits down at her desk, she notices something’s off at once. Everything is kept in a very precise order on her worktop, but it still takes her a second to find it—a 4x6 piece of yellow cardstock leaning up against the cup that holds her pens, a one-word message written on it in blue felt pen.

BELIEVE

She lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob, and picks up the little sign, holding it to her chest. She takes a deep steadying breath, suddenly filled with affection and gratitude for the man who left it.

She senses movement at the door and she looks up to see Ted there, dressed and ready for training, which she knows is starting soon. He gives her the thumbs up, his eyebrows raised in question.

She just nods at him, unable to keep the big soppy grin off her face, still holding the card to her chest.

Thank you, she mouths.

Ted just nods, a wide smile on his face as he brings a hand to his chest. Then he’s heading back down the stairs.

She watches him go, placing the little card back where Ted left it. It’s perfect, really, this little gift he’s given her. Every time her thoughts drift to the bad things that could happen with the baby, all she has to do is glance at the little card, and she thinks of the love and care with which it was made, the love with which this child was conceived, and the faith that this man has in every avenue of life.

And when she does, she gets it. What Ted told her months ago down in his office when she’d been at her lowest.

If you care about someone, and you got a little love in your heart, there ain’t nothing you can’t get through together.

Chapter Text

Keeley plans the photoshoot for Friday, and she and Rebecca make up a fake meeting the next day with the accountants so that she and Ted can slip out late in the morning to head to the doctor’s appointment.

It goes over well with everyone except with Higgins, who stammers that he wasn’t informed about this meeting and he really should be going and that he’s not happy, until Rebecca informs him that he’s in charge while she’s gone and actually lets him sit at her desk. Even if it means she’ll have to disinfect her entire work area and clean up his sandwich crumbs once she gets back, she doesn’t care. This appointment is way too important to her.

In the car on the way there, she holds Ted’s hand so tightly that she actually sees a flash of pain cross his face as he flexes his hand in the waiting room.

They’ve come all the way to Kensington, where Rebecca’s doctor is. She’s a few years older than Rebecca, and is expensive. But she’s the best in the biz, has a clinic with everything that they’ll need to confirm the pregnancy and do all the most state-of-the-art scans and tests, all in one place.

It’s fortuitous for her, because she’s needed at the club at almost all hours, and if they’re going to keep this secret, she (and Ted) can’t be whizzing back and forth between doctors and hospitals and labs. The more the two of them are out and about entering obstetricians’ offices, the more likely they’re going to end up on the cover of the Sun, and Rebecca doesn’t need Keeley to imagine the headlines.

They take blood and urine from her as soon as she gets there, and send her back to wait for the doctor to see her. The waiting room is thankfully nearly empty, with only one other couple in it, an obviously wealthy banker-type and his model-type wife, who barely give Ted and Rebecca the time of day.

“How ya doing, boss?” Ted whispers, after they’ve been waiting for about ten minutes.

The receptionist has already told them twice now that it won’t be long, and Rebecca’s insides are all in knots, her fingers ghosting over the plaster the nurse placed in the crook of her arm.

She gives him a tight smile. “Fucking terrified,” she admits. Ted laughs softly, nodding.

“So am I,” he admits. “But I’m excited, too. Aren’t you? Even a little bit?”

Rebecca nods her head imperceptibly. “Yes,” she says. “I mean, I will be. When all this is over, and we know everything’s okay. I just—Ted, it’s something that I’ve wanted for a very long time, and like I said—”

“No, it’s okay, I understand,” he says, his voice deep and warm. She smiles, turning to see his brown eyes looking back at her in that way they do, gentle and kind, and above all, patient. Something she’s still finding a little hard to get used to.

“I fucking love you, you know that?”

Ted laughs. “I do know that,” he says. “But I also now know that doctor’s offices make you swear like a longshoreman.”

She laughs, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s because they make you fucking wait,” she whispers rather severely. “I can’t stand it.”

But then they call her name, and she wishes they could have just a few more minutes in the relatively benign waiting room.

They’re then gifted another interminable wait, with Ted sitting in a chair next to the examination table that Rebecca is seated on.

“I forgot how awful this is,” he says, leaning his head against her knee. “Even the really expensive private doctors make you wait? Funny, I thought that would be included in the price.”

She laughs a soft puff of laughter.

“You know, this part will probably be pretty boring, Ted. You’re not going to stay for the whole thing?”

Ted turns to look at her. “I mean, unless you want me to.”

“I think I can probably get through the pelvic exam and the Pap test on my own,” she says, chuckling.

“Fine, I’ll leave you the physical to you,” he says, “but I don’t wanna miss anything. I missed a lot with Michelle in the beginnin'. I was coachin’ all the time, travellin’.”

“I understand, Ted,” she says, in that same warm tone he used, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Then the door opens, and her heart is in her throat.

The familiar face of her doctor enters, and takes in the two of them, and Rebecca smiles back at her.

“Well,” she says, raising her eyebrows at Rebecca, “I think you’re pregnant, Rebecca.”

Rebecca gives her doctor a sheepish smile.

“I sort of—figured that out already,” she tells her.

“So this is the man that’s done it to you, then?” she asks, sitting down and gesturing to Ted with her head.

“I certainly hope so,” Ted says, looking back at Rebecca in mock reprisal. “Or else we are seriously gonna have to have a talk.”

“This is Ted,” Rebecca says, rolling her eyes as the doctor pulls out her chart.

“As I said,” she starts, “I’ve done another urine test and it’s positive, so that means you’re probably pregnant. We’ll confirm with the blood test and I’ll send you down the hall after this for a scan to confirm.” Rebecca nods. “I’m sure this was a bit of surprise,” she says, giving them a warm smile.

“It was,” Rebecca says. “But not—unwelcome. Just a tad inconvenient.”

Ted nods along to that.

“Well, I don’t think I have to tell you there are risks at your age, but then, at the same time, I like to tell my older patients that the chances are much higher for you to have a healthy baby and pregnancy. So—try to stay positive,” she says, and she feels Ted’s shoulder nudge her thigh. She nudges him back.

“Now, first questions.” She says. “When was your last period?”

When Rebecca tells her, Ted’s head whips around to look at her, almost startling her.

“You mean—” he starts “—sorry, Doctor—” he says, turning back to the woman, “you’ve known there was somethin' goin' on this whole time? Why didn’t you say somethin'?”

“Ted,” she warns, widening her eyes at him. Then she sighs. “I don’t know,” she says. She glances up at her doctor. “I suppose I just thought that the menopause was more likely.” She shrugs a shoulder.

“I wish you’d said something to me,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Why would I want to tell you that, Ted? That there was zero chance of us ever having our own child? That I was old and—decrepit? With Rupert and—” she sighs. “Don’t you see?”

At that, Ted nods. “You’re right,” he says, shaking his head. “I understand. I'm sorry.” He turns back to the doctor. “Sorry, Doc,” he says.

“Not a problem,” she says, smiling. “But that does mean that I’d put you at about twelve weeks. So, almost out of your first trimester.”

“Are you serious?” Rebecca says.

“Wow,” Ted says, beside her. “I mean—huh.” She can tell that he, like she, has done the math. “That means—” he starts, turning to look at her. She nods at him, closing her eyes. She knows what it means. It means this baby was conceived not long into the beginning of their relationship. A matter of a few weeks into it.

“Everything okay?” the doctor asks.

“Yes, yes,” Rebecca says, nodding. “We just—well, let’s just say that Ted’s and my relationship is fairly new, and that this happened much quicker that I would have ever—”

“I understand,” she says, giving them a sympathetic smile. “And believe me, I get a lot of patients like you who don’t think they’re fertile anymore in their forties.” She shrugs. “But as long as there’s still an egg being released every month, there’s still a chance.”

“Well, we are definitely gonna keep that in mind in the future, doc,” Ted says, nodding, and Rebecca can’t help but smile.

“So when—” she starts, while already doing the math in her head. “When would I be due?”

“Some time in May,” the doctor says, and Ted turns to give her a look. “After the scan you’ll have a more accurate date.”

“I see,” Rebecca says, shaking her head, smiling mirthlessly. Of course. Of course it would be May. It couldn’t be in June or July, when they were all out of the spotlight and had the time and energy to deal with a newborn.

It had to be right at the end of their first season in the Championship League, and they all hope, their last. There’s a very good chance this baby will be born before or during the playoffs they hope to make and win. And that Rebecca will spend the last few important months of the season heavily pregnant and probably miserable. It’s not ideal. Not in the least.

“But in terms of your age, Rebecca,” the doctor starts up again, “I don’t see any problems. Your general health is good. You quit smoking, you keep fit and eat well. Blood pressure’s been good, no other health conditions. However, the risks for a chromosomal problem in the baby are high at your age. But—we’ll know quite quickly when we test the blood we took today whether we have any reason to be concerned. And because you’re as far along as you are, we can do a measurement in the scan today called a nuchal translucency scan, that will give us a fairly accurate assessment of the baby’s risks when combined with the blood tests. And as I mentioned on the phone, I’m also going to recommend the NIPT. It finds the little pieces of the baby’s DNA in your blood and reassembles them, so we can look at its full genome and makes sure it’s all normal. If you pass all those tests, there is very little chance the baby will have any sort of chromosomal anomaly. All right?”

Ted and Rebecca both nod.

“And if it indicates that there could be a problem?” Rebecca asks.

“Then we’d probably consider amniocentesis or chorionic villus sampling, which are quite a bit more invasive,” she says.

“Giant needle,” Ted whispers, and Rebecca nudges him.

After that, the doctor starts to ask her how’s she’s been feeling and Ted decides to leave them to it, retiring to the waiting room. As much as she’s happy to be able to speak to her doctor about her health more freely, she misses the warm presence of him at her side.

After the physical, they ask her to drink several glasses of water, and by the time they’re both sent down the hall to wait for the sonographer, she’s bursting to go wee.

“Waitin’ again?” Ted asks, shaking his head. They’re in almost the exact same position that they were in the other room, Rebecca reclined on the table this time, while Ted’s head rests upon his forearms on the edge of the bed. “You should ask for your money back.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Ted,” she says, her hands coming to rest against her ribs.

“Should we talk about money?” he asks, after a moment.

“No, we should not,” she replies, shaking her head. She sighs, turning her head to look at him. “Let’s just—suffice it to say that we don’t have to worry about it. I got half of Rupert’s in the divorce, and I have absolutely no qualms about using it to raise someone else’s child.” She chuckles, and looks to Ted, who simply smiles. “And of course,” she says, “you have your own money, which the club pays you. I’m not expecting financial compensation from you, Ted. I mean, apart from all the money we’re going to spend on this kid. Together.”

“No, I know,” he says, nodding. “I just—”

“I was thinking,” she says. “Once Keeley starts to work her magic, and we tell the team about us,” she bites her lip, suddenly finding the actual words a little difficult to say. She takes a big breath as Ted watches her with curious eyes. “Would you like to move in with me?”

At this, Ted brightens considerably, raising his head up off his arms. “Really?” he asks.

“Of course!” she says. “We can’t raise this child while in separate homes. I was actually thinking about it last week. Before all—this. About asking you to at least consider it.”

“Really?” he asks, again, his eyes brightening.

“Yes,” she says. “I hate how you have to leave every weekend. And, I mean, it wasn’t like we were going to move into your tiny one-bedroom flat together. Not with Mrs. Shipley upstairs.”

Ted laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll miss her, though. Old battle-axe. She’d be stompin’ on the floor every time I came home drunk. Or the late-night coachin’ sessions. Then I’d take her some of my special biscuits the next day and she’d be sweet as anythin’.”

“Are you saying you’ve been two-timing me with Mrs. Shipley?” she asks, a crooked smile on her face.

“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I mean, who can resist a forty-year age difference and an apartment full of cats?”

Rebecca laughs, nudging him with her arm. “Okay,” she says. “Then it’s settled? Once Stage One is complete—”

“I’ll be there with bells on. And clothes, as well. I’ll probably need to bring all my things, too. You know, I never really understood—”

“Ted,” she warns him, sensing a long-winded etymological soliloquy coming on.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Yes, Rebecca, I would love to move in with you. I honestly wish we could do it tomorrow.”

She sighs wistfully. “I know,” she says. “If it wasn’t for this bloody football club, we could. No one would give two shits about us.”

“But then we probably never would’ve met, either,” Ted says. She shrugs a shoulder, giving him a smile, and then the door to the little room opens and a young woman in her thirties enters.

“Hello,” she says, as Rebecca’s heart rate soars and her hand tightens around Ted’s forearm. “Let’s get a look at your baby, shall we?”

And that’s what they do. Ted grabs her hand and squeezes it tightly, the gel is squirted on, the transducer presses rather uncomfortably into her belly and full bladder, and an image comes flickering onto the screen. At first, it’s nothing, just grey noise, but then, suddenly, it’s there—the white outline of a baby-shaped object inside the black sac of her womb, and Rebecca feels like she’s been socked in the gut with a cricket bat.

“Oh my god,” she says, “it’s huge!” She laughs, incredulously, her free hand shaking as she brings it up to her face. She can’t look away, can’t believe it. She’d expected a tiny blob, something at least approximating a baby, not this—not arms and surprisingly long legs and a head and a little face in profile. It’s just—she laughs, and finally turns to Ted.

He’s got that smile on his face again, the one that looks like Christmas morning, wide and toothy and ebullient, and his eyes are already wet with unshed tears. She gives his hand a stout squeeze as she looks back at the screen.

“It’s moving,” she says, in wonderment, shaking her head as the baby’s legs stretch out, its little arms moving about. Ted leans over to kiss her temple and she’s just so happy, suddenly, that all the anxieties and what-ifs evaporate instantly.

“Baby’s about the size of a lime right now,” the sonographer says, nodding sagely. “I’ll just take some measurements,” she says, doing just that, as the image freezes. “But it looks like about twelve weeks, like the doctor said. Everything looks good, to me, but the doctor will have more to tell you after she looks it over.”

Rebecca shakes her head. She’s too shocked to say anything, really, to laugh or to cry. That this child has been growing and developing inside her for months without her knowledge is sobering. She's been worried about her lack of prenatal care since her doctor's revelation that she'd been pregnant for three full months, but as her eyes rake over the little image of her child, she can’t help but forgive herself. Because she realises now that she’s been given a gift.

She'd started thinking about children again after Ted’s appearance in her life and their subsequent relationship, but in almost a wistful way, as if wishing they could have met years earlier and not now, in the twilight of her fertility.

But now—she looks at Ted again, who’s now openly crying. “Oh, darling,” she says, leaning her head against his shoulder as the sonographer deftly hands him a couple of tissues.

“It’s okay,” he says, wiping his eyes sheepishly. “Happy tears, I swear.”

“Now,” the young woman says, “at this point, we can tell you the sex, if you’d like.” She turns to look at Ted and Rebecca, who both then look at each other.

“I don’t—” she starts, shaking her head slightly.

“Yeah, me neither,” he says, nodding. “No, ma’am,” he says to the technician. “I think we’re good. For now.”

“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” the young woman asks, and Rebecca nods.

And then she hears it—slightly fuzzy, yet rhythmic. Pulsing, like a tiny train coming down the tracks. And she supposes that’s when it hits her—as she watches the baby move about on the screen and listens to its tiny heart beating away.

Beside her Ted lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob, and when she turns to see his happy face, eyes red, she breaks, tears coming to her eyes unbidden. She starts crying, quietly, unable to keep it in any longer.

“Sounds good,” the sonographer says, as Ted grabs some more tissues. She gives them both an encouraging smile, not at all fazed by their display of emotion. She’s probably used to it, day after day, Rebecca thinks. “153 beats per minute. That’s perfect for twelve weeks.”

They both nod, wiping their eyes, and then Rebecca has an idea. “Ted, grab your phone. Can we take a video? For a friend.”

The young woman nods as Ted brings out his phone to take a short video of the baby on the screen and the heartbeat in the background.

“Keeley?” he asks her, pocketing his phone.

Rebecca nods.

And then the young woman prints them out several little pictures to take home, and they get up to leave. Rebecca bolts to the loo, her full bladder becoming uncomfortable, and when she exits, her doctor is there, next to Ted. She barely listens as the woman lets her know that the results of the first batch of tests should be back in a few days, and that she'll give her a call the moment they get them back.

She nods, thanks the doctor, then Ted helps her with her coat and puts on his. And then suddenly they’re on the street, where Rebecca’s Rolls Royce is waiting for them.

Ψ

Ted sends the video to the group chat Keeley set up as they lunch back in Richmond, and in a little café on the high street, sitting outside on the unseasonably warm day, they’re assaulted by emojis and texts in all caps approximately one minute later.

OMG!!@ SHES SO BIG!!! SHE’S BEAUTIFUL. She looks like you, Ted

She? he texts back.

OF COURSE!! What else would it be?

“Boys don’t exist in Keeley’s world, I guess,” Ted says, and she laughs, shaking her head.

It’s a nice escape, a little time away from work before they have to face the grind again. She wishes she and Ted could sit here all day, or at least for a couple more hours, just chatting idly about the future, luxuriating in just being them, together, in public, when they’ve spent the last few months hiding. Soon, she tells herself.

She can’t stop looking at the little piece of paper the sonographer printed for them, her eyes roving over the baby’s tiny features, the little nose and fingers and chin. She knows they’re not out of the woods, yet. The doctor will get the preliminary test results back to her in a couple days, which will tell them quite accurately how likely it is that the baby has a chromosomal abnormality. But she’s encouraged by the little photo, and by the fact that Rebecca is much further along in her pregnancy than she thought. She’s almost past the most danger stage, now, and she can’t help but think it’s a good sign she’s made it this far.

She smiles, breathing in the fall air, gazing at the man across from her, who’s wearing the same dreamy, contented expression she probably is. She reaches out for his hand, giving it a squeeze. The warmth and the weight of it around hers comforts her, grounds her.

“Would you prefer a girl?” she asks him.

“Nah,” he says. “Whichever is fine with me. I mean, yeah, I’ve already raised a boy, so it’d be nice to have a little girl this time. But—” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to put any expectations on this kid. I never expected this, Rebecca. So, this baby can do whate’er they want, as far as I'm concerned.” He shrugs a shoulder. “What about you?”

Rebecca smiles. “I’m not going to lie, Ted, I would love a little girl. But I’m not going to be put out if it’s a boy. Like you said: I never expected I'd get to be a mother. At least, not in the old-fashioned way. So I’m fine with whatever we get.”

Ted nods and they share a wide, incredulous smile.

When they get back to Nelson Road, he heads straight down to the locker room to plan training with Beard and Nathan, and Rebecca heads up, to her office.

She's still in a bit of a giddy daze, not quite able to believe what they’ve seen on the screen. But it’s more that it has to be believed now. It’s no longer just a concept, no longer just a pink line on a plastic test. It’s a child, with arms and legs, moving about and sucking on its thumb and growing fingernails and toenails.

And if she didn’t already love this kid, she’s besotted now. She sees Ted’s nose in the baby’s profile, her chin. Maybe she’s imagining it, but she can’t help it. This child is half her and half him. She and Ted are going to be parents to an actual child soon, and—she just shakes her head as she ascends the stairs.

She’s way too wired to take her post-lunch nap today, vibrating with energy when she enters her office to find Higgins at her desk, on his phone, very clearly chatting with his wife.

“And if you can get those to us as quickly as possible,” he suddenly says, once he sees her, “that would be fantastic.”

 Rebecca approaches her desk and cocks her head at him, and he deflates.

“Sorry, darling,” he says. “Rebecca’s here. I’ve got to go now. Love you!”

“Higgins,” she says, as he hangs up, “you can talk to your wife while you’re at work. I mean,” she looks at her watch, “it’s technically lunch.”

“I know, it’s just—” he looks up at her for a second and does a double take. She frowns at him. “Rebecca, are you quite all right?”

She freezes. “Yes, I’m fine, why do you ask?” she says, straightening her outfit. She’s a master at compartmentalising, has had to be for years now, but can't help but wonder if her newfound joy is written all over her face.

“Er, nothing, nothing,” he says, getting up from her chair. “You look different, somehow. Happier. It’s a nice look on you!” He rounds her desk and passes by her as she stands there, bemused. He gives her a double thumbs up, loses his grip on his phone, bobbles it a couple of times before it falls on the floor.

“Thank you for keeping my seat warm, Higgins,” she says, shaking her head, as he picks up his phone and heads to the door.

“Oh, er, not a problem!” he says, giving her a wave as he gets to the door. “Er, you can let it cool first, if you want.”

She does. Just for good measure.

Ψ

It’s almost dark when she finally sees Ted again. Higgins has gone home, as have most of the players. She imagines Nate and Beard are still downstairs at the whiteboard, going over one play or another. She’s on the sofa, shoes kicked off. A pile of paperwork sits on the coffee table in front of her, unread and ignored in favour of the sonogram photo she holds in her hand.

She looks up and smiles when she sees him, the fondness tugging at her heart.

“How’d your day go?” he asks, approaching her.

“Slowly,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m still in a daze. It’s just—”

“Yeah,” Ted says, still smiling. He looks so fucking happy that it would be annoying if she weren’t the cause of it. “I feel the same way, babe,” he says as he flops down on the sofa next to her, letting out a groan. He rests his head against hers and she smiles as the warm weight of him presses against her side.

They stare at the photo for a few seconds in companionable silence, Ted lifting his arm and throwing it across her shoulders.

“I think Keeley’s right,” Rebecca says after a moment, “I think she does look like you.”

“Yeah?” he asks. He squints at the photo, shrugging a shoulder. “Well, she’ll grow out of it.”

Rebecca laughs, finally placing the little piece of photo paper on the coffee table in front of her. Ted lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“What is it?” she asks, turning her head to look at him.

“I just—I don’t know what to say,” he says. “I came here not even a year ago, not knowin’ what to expect, not knowin’ anyone, with just me and Beard. And now—now I have a family here. And not just you two,” he says, laying his left hand flat against her abdomen. She smiles, and covers his hand with her own. “But, hell, all y’all. Nate, Keeley, Higgins, Roy. The whole damn team. I have a life here, Rebecca. This is home, now. I don’ wanna leave. It’s just—it’s hard to believe.”

“It’s not hard for me to believe, Ted. Not at all.”

“No?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“You’re a magnet for people. Your kindness, your curiosity—just pull everyone in. They make them better, too. You make them better. Everyone who works here or plays here is better off for meeting you, Ted Lasso,” she says, turning her body to face him. “Especially me.”

He reaches out for her hand and then, before she can even react, he pulls her into his lap, his arms wrapping tight around her waist.

She looks down into eyes filled with wonder, with warmth.

“Ted,” she says, half-heartedly admonishing him. But she can’t. Not when his hands are dropping lower, pulling her hips toward his.

“Nobody’s here,” he says, his voice low and gravelly in that way that completely undoes her, and as much as she’d like to christen this sofa with him, she’d also not like for Sam or Nate to walk in on them while they’re doing it.

“How about,” she starts, her fingers finding their way through the multiple layers he always wears to softly caress the skin at his neck, “I take you back to my place and you cook me supper?”

Ted smiles a bit wickedly, and nods, leaning into kiss her softly as her fingers trace circles on his skin.

“Okay, boss,” he says. “Raincheck on this ‘til after dinner?”

She kisses him deeply in reply.

Chapter Text

After that, things start moving along rather quickly. Ted and Rebecca pose for photos with Keeley’s photographer the next day, and the two of them actually don’t hate the proofs she later sends them later that day.

“I told you,” Keeley says. “You two make a super fucking hot couple. I mean, like, if I wasn’t with Roy—”

“Keeley,” Rebecca says, exasperated.

Her doctor calls her on Saturday, informing her that the preliminary tests indicate that the baby is healthy and its chromosomes normal, and that Rebecca's health is good and the pregnancy is progressing as normal. Even while she knows the results of the more accurate NIPT test are still pending, the chances that the baby is going to be okay are overwhelmingly in their favour. And the happy news is enough to buoy them through the weekend, and even the first few days of the week.

Rebecca still worries constantly, her heart rate spiking at every twinge and pang she feels. But her pregnancy continues to stubbornly progress, delighting Ted and perplexing her.

It wouldn’t be so bewildering if her clothes weren’t becoming more and more uncomfortably tight with each passing day. She’s hardly even showing yet, and already she’s contemplating buying a new wardrobe. Some new bras, at least. Her tits are growing prodigiously, and still tender, not to mention heavy and uncomfortable, and each day she’s sure that someone’s going to figure out her secret just by looking at them.

But as the week lumbers on, with the knowledge that her baby is likely okay and that her pregnancy is healthy, she begins to develop a sort of confidence that she didn’t have before. She’s sure some of it is the hormones, but a lot of it has to do with Ted; with being in a relationship again, with the hope he has for the future that she can’t help but buy into.

Another part of it is the time they’re spending together. He spends the majority of nights at her place that week (she doesn’t know why they don’t just move him in and tell Beard the news, but Ted is a stickler for the plan) and, with the baby tucked squarely away beneath her navel, growing and kicking and moving, even if she can’t yet feel it, she’s never alone, now.

And despite her earlier misgivings, she can’t begrudge herself for loving it.

Keeley meets with advertisers and graphic designers to plan their branding images, and by the middle of the next week, they’re ready. They elect not to do a separate press conference for the campaign, as they don’t want to make her and Ted the story, but they post a preview of the images on their social media accounts, and on the website. And, unsurprisingly, they get a question about it at the press conference before the match with Swansea. Quite predictably, from one Trent Crimm.

They’ve been expecting such a question, and Ted adroitly turns it over to their new Social Media and Branding Manager, Keeley Jones, who has, unsurprisingly, absolutely no reservations about being the centre of attention.

“Thank you, Trent,” she says. “Now, I think we can all agree that this team has really turned itself around in the past few months, don’t you?”

She gets a few murmurs from the crowd.

“So much of that is due to these two people,” she says, pointing to Ted, and Rebecca, who stands off stage left. “Ms. Welton and Coach Lasso could have walked away after the disappointing showing last season, but they didn’t. And we want people to see—we want Richmond to see that their club is in good hands, that we have every intention of being promoted to the Premier League next season.”

“So, it’s not just a desperate effort to try to popularise a coach whom people still aren’t entirely sure about?” Trent asks, and there’s a soft murmur through the crowd of reporters, though the reaction is much less animated than that to Trent’s little jokes from the beginning of the season.

“Absolutely not,” Keeley says, and Rebecca can’t help but believe her. “It’s a chance for the fan base to get to know the owner and the gaffer on a more personal level, and to grow the momentum we’ve built since the beginning of the season.” Trent opens his mouth to ask another question, but Keeley cuts him off. “Thank you, Trent,” she says, stepping down off the stage to join Rebecca.

“You’re really good at this, Keeley,” she murmurs, once Ted becomes the centre of attention again.

“I know,” her newest employee says.

The new branding thankfully doesn’t get much more news than that, other than a few puff pieces in local rags and a couple of snide comments from sportscasters, so Keeley goes ahead with getting the advertising out there.

Rebecca knows it’s a massive expense, and that she’s essentially doing it to cover up her and Ted’s impropriety, but she can’t help but agree with Keeley. She and Ted are polarising figures. Thanks to the tabloid coverage, Rebecca knows that she’s seen as cold, aloof, unfeeling. The woman who put a stop to Rupert’s shenanigans, took over the ownership of the team and held him accountable for his actions. And despite the indecency on Rupert’s part, the people weren’t particularly pleased about that.

She’s sure that the average middle-class Richmond fan has all sorts of opinions about her, with most of them awful and all of them probably wrong.

And Ted—well, a lot of his image problems are her fault and hers alone. From the first press conference, she set him up to fail, and the media unfortunately took notice. Bringing over a man who knew nothing about football and throwing him to the wolves certainly did not win him any favours with the Richmond fans or the local media.

But despite her best intentions, Trent’s first profile on him did a lot of good for his reputation, and she can’t help but think that seeing a softer side of Ted, coupled with the fact that the team continues to win matches, will do a lot to change the fan base’s opinions about him.

She’s starting to see what Keeley’s game plan is, and even with having to endure the daily viewings of the massive pictures of herself and Ted on billboards on the high street and on banners in the stadium, she can’t help but smile. If this works, Keeley is going to turn her and Ted from tabloid fodder and the subjects of very mean memes on Twitter to benign, smiling, benevolent overlords, the two people that this town can turn to in times of need, who they can depend on to get their team through this difficult time.

And she admits Keeley’s right—they do look like a smart pair, Rebecca wearing the personalised jersey Keeley ordered for her (and then had to get let out when tits grew too big for it) and a pair of jeans, and Ted in his AFC Richmond track suit. They look happy, cute, ten years younger than they actually are. And for that, she thanks Keeley daily for the subtle retouching job.

They look like that couple down the street, the one with the manicured lawn and the expensive car in the driveway, the massive house and the impossibly adorable children running around in the back garden. Well, they were three-quarters of the way there, on that. They’d be four-for-four by late spring.

But the real news is what’s happening online. Keeley gives her a breakdown of it over the phone Friday night, and Rebecca nods along from her sofa, watching as Ted picks up the takeaway from the delivery driver at the door and returns with it to the kitchen island. She’s listening, but, in all truth, most of what Keeley is saying is absolute gibberish to her without some sort of visual aid to give it context. And not only that, she’s exhausted and starving, a new thing that has steadily increased as the week went on.

She’s thirteen weeks pregnant now, with an unfortunate due date of the 24th of May, which lands right in the middle of the Championship League Playoffs. And, they’re still in third place. She’s hoping they can improve their record and slip past Barnsley into second, therefore exempting the team from the playoffs entirely, but she’s not holding her breath. They’re going to have to make preparations for this baby to arrive before, during or slightly after their playoff run.

But despite that, she has felt as if a weight has been lifted recently. Even over the past few days, she’s had a little more of a spring in her step, much less nausea, and her mood has improved, too. And her doctor is not surprised, when she calls in to check in with her, explaining that this is common now that Rebecca is a few days away from her second trimester.

“And Rebecca,” her doctor said, “I know your job is stressful, and that you’re under a lot of pressure, but make sure to take care of yourself, all right? You’re past the worst of it, and there’s no reason why you can’t carry to term. I’m sure you know that the rate of miscarriage drops sharply at thirteen weeks.”

“I did know that,” Rebecca says, nodding to herself. “But Ted and I—we’re still going to wait a little longer before we tell anyone. Three or four more weeks?”

“That’s understandable,” she said. “By then, the chance will be less than one percent.”

That, combined with the findings from the doctor, and the infectious enthusiasm of Keeley and Ted is starting to build something inside of her. Something that seemed almost impossible on the day she discovered the pregnancy. It’s buoyed every day by the little yellow sign she sees on her desk, the card with the word that Ted has co-opted as an affirmation, a mantra, even. It’s the word that’s helping to turn their middling, bog-standard club with a toxic locker room and a philandering owner, to one that has begun to garner more respect, one with an owner that’s involved in the day-to-day operations, one with players and a coaching staff with real bonds of friendship and camaraderie.

So now, as her body finally begins to acclimatise itself to the new life growing within her, something else has begun to grow inside her: hope. Hope that this surprising gift she and Ted have received will be healthy and in their arms in six months’ time. Hope that her future with Ted will be bright and hope that their football club has a real chance of becoming a contender.

But now, she only has one thing on her mind: the smell of the lamb madras that Ted is dishing out on the kitchen island.

“That’s great, Keeley,” she says, as soon as there’s a lull in the conversation. “Listen—why don’t you come over tomorrow and give me and Ted a summary of everything?”

“Really?” Keeley asks, sounding excited. “Yeah, of course, Rebecca, whatever you want. Cheers.”

“Cheers, darling,” she says, eyes still on the food and stomach rumbling. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“So?” Ted asks, as she steps toward the island. “What did Keeley have to say?”

“To be honest, Ted,” she starts, “I didn’t really understand most of it. Millennials.”

“Wow, babe,” he says, smiling a cute little smile at her, “you have not taken your eyes off this Indian food since I walked in the door.”

“Well, I’m starving!” she says, shaking her head. “Absolutely fucking famished.”

“That’s new,” he says curiously, raising his eyebrows at her as he hands her some cutlery. They both take a seat to eat, and Rebecca tucks in to her meal.

“I know,” she says, mouth full of food. “The next strange symptom du jour. And it’s just constant. Just started in the last few days.”

“I remember Michelle in that phase,” Ted says, smiling crookedly at the memory. “She said she felt like a lion, chasing down an antelope when I brought food home. Even if that antelope was often Little Caesar’s Pizza. She was crazy for it.”

“That’s exactly what it feels like,” she says, shovelling rice into her mouth.

“Well, that’s good,” he says, nudging her. “I’m happy you’re feelin’ better.” She gives him a grin, gently bumping her shoulder against his. “So how ‘bout that Keeley, huh?” he says, surprise evident in his voice. “You think she can actually pull this whole thing off?”

“I would not bet against her,” she says, taking a swig of fizzy water. “If she can get people to actually like us, I think we have a chance.”

“Oh, I agree,” Ted says. “It’s still very weird to see my face all blown up like that all over town.” He shakes his head incredulously. “I’m gonna take a couple pictures, though. Send them to my mom and Henry.”

Rebecca smiles at him, fondness tugging at her. “I think Henry will really enjoy that,” she says.

“Oh, he’ll get a kick out of it, that’s for sure.”

She takes a bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. “You think your mum will be happy?” she asks. Truthfully, she doesn’t know that much about his mother. She knows they’re close, and that he values her opinions greatly, but other than the folksy anecdotes Ted’s told her, she doesn’t really have a read on the woman, yet.

“About us, you mean?” he asks. She nods. “Yeah, I think she will be,” he says. “She always wanted more grandkids. And—if I’m bein’ honest, Rebecca,” he says, his tone changing, “Mom and Michelle never really did get along that well.”

Rebecca breathes in quickly, turning to Ted. “What? Really?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Well, it was more my mom than Michelle. I mean, I love my mom, but I think she wanted me to wait, you know? Go to college, meet girls and have fun before I committed myself to someone. But Michelle was just—the one for me, and we were good for a long time.” He smiles, wistfully, nodding. “Mom was happy for us, then. But then we weren’t,” he says, shrugging, “good, I mean, and, well—Mom took my side. She was always tellin’ me that I deserved better, you know, that some day I’d meet someone who loved me for me. I guess she could see somethin’ I couldn’t.” He gives her a smile, shrugging a shoulder.

“Ted, I had no idea,” she says, shaking her head. She knows all too well the pressure a parent can put on a child in an unhappy marriage. “My mother was the same,” she says. “With Rupert.”

“Really?” Ted asks, and she nods.

“And I’m not—saying Michelle is anything close to Rupert—”

“’Course not,” Ted says, shaking his head.

“But it was hard. She would tell me that he was emotionally and psychologically abusive. That I needed to leave him before he changed me into someone she didn’t recognise. She even went so far as hiring me a divorce lawyer, but—” she shook her head. “I was stubborn. I’d made my choice, and I wasn’t going to go back on it.”

“Did you two fall out?” he asks, and she gives him a tight smile.

“We did,” she says. “Thankfully, it was only about a year before the news broke about his affairs. She called me, the next day,” she says, taking a deep breath at the emotions the memory dredges up. “Asked me if I needed anything. And she forgave me,” she says, nodding. “Not all of the people I abandoned were as kind as her.”

“Flo,” he offers, raising his eyebrows. Rebecca smiles.

“True,” she says. “She came back to me. I didn’t think she would.”

“All those people that didn’t, Rebecca,” Ted says, “I’m sure they’ve got their reasons. Reach out, apologise, and see what happens.” He shrugs. “If they don’t come back, well, they weren’t your real friends in the first place.”

She smiles, nodding as she leans against his shoulder.

“Your mother,” she says, “she came round, though? After the divorce.”

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “Embarrassingly quickly, actually.” He laughs. “I kinda feel bad about it, but I’ve been talking to her all the time on the phone for the past year. Skyping. Stayed at her place, actually, when I went out there this summer. And, you know what? It’s been great getting to know my mom again.” He turns his head, pressing his face against the side of hers, kissing her cheek softly. “And I know I keep saying this about people, Rebecca, but I really think she’ll like you.”

Rebecca laughs, leaning back to look at him. “What makes you think she’ll like me if she didn’t like Michelle?”

He looks at her, his eyes trailing from her forehead to her lips, as if he’s appraising her. “Because you love me just the way I am,” he says.

Ψ

“There’s not much on Twitter,” Keeley says, the next day, as they all sit in Rebecca’s living room. “It’s not really a platform that encourages a back and forth. But the responses to the photos were good. Lots of retweets and likes. Facebook—again, good, but it tends to cater to an older crowd, so there wasn’t much more than the odd ‘Good luck against Middlesbrough’ and ‘Come on you Greyhounds,’ etc. You get the picture.”

“Right,” Rebecca says, nodding. “So nothing negative, you’re saying? No rude memes or comments about Ted’s credentials, things like that?”

“Correct,” Keeley says. “They like you guys.” She shrugs. “Now Instagram caters to a much younger crowd. I’d say—under 45, almost exclusively. And people are much more likely to post more personal comments, gossip and innuendo—you get what I’m saying.”

“Basically, it’s like high school,” Ted says. “Only online.”

“More or less,” Keeley says.

“So, give us some examples,” Rebecca says.

“Okay, so—pff,” Keeley says, scrolling through her phone, “these ones are pretty boring, just, you know ‘great work against Swansea,’ etc., but ooh! Okay, this young lady has a massive crush on Ted, she’s been posting thirsty comments in basically all the posts we’ve made. Ignores you, Rebecca.”

“What does she say?” Rebecca asks, now highly curious.

“I’m not going to read this out loud,” Keeley says, holding up her phone for Rebecca to see.

“Oh my god!” she says, once she reads it, and sees the accompanying eggplant and peach emojis. She cackles.

“What?” Ted asks, eyes wide, and Rebecca can’t help but smile at how adorable he is.

“I’m not telling you,” she says, shaking her head.

“Suffice it to say that if you ever see this girl,” Keeley says, showing Ted her picture, “run the other way.”

“Gotcha,” he says, winking at Keeley.

“Okay, so, these are the ones I was talking about: ‘Ted Lasso is growing on me. Maybe it’s because we both have moustaches’” Keeley says, “That’s from Jim, lives in Richmond, aged—I don’t know. Thirtyish.”

“I’ll take it,” Ted says, shrugging.

“Oh,” Keeley says, “’The owner lady looks so much happier with this bloke. She should date him. Rupert was a twat.’ Hmm?” she says, and Rebecca and Ted nod. “That’s Ruth, aged, er, forty-something. Then a few people kind of took a cue from her, you know, ‘Wait, they’re not dating? I thought they were.’ ‘No, I don’t think they’re together, wasn’t he married?’ ‘He’s divorced, I think they’re cute,’ etc. It kind of goes on like that, interspersed with the odd ‘Wanker!’ and a ton of comments actually about the football, most of which are positive.”

“So, that’s a good thing, then?” Rebecca asks.

“Oh, shit, yeah!” Keeley says. “Like, honestly, I was expecting a lot of shit like what Trent Crimm said last week? Like, y’know, ‘no matter what you guys do, we’re never going to like him’, but honestly these responses have been really positive. On all the platforms, which is rare. Twitter and Facebook can be a tough crowd, as I’m sure you know.”

“Honestly, I try to stay away from social media all together,” Rebecca says. “The rags are bad enough.”

“Well,” Keeley says, sipping her tea, “I’m not saying you should head over there and participate in the discourse. In fact, I am absolutely telling you the opposite. But—the tide is definitely turning. People are used to old, boring owners and managers—”

“Like Rupert and George,” Rebecca offers.

“Exactly!” Keeley says. “Even as much as they liked Rupert, it’s very hard for anyone under forty to give a shit about a couple of 70-year-old men. We’re bringing the younger generations into the equation. They like seeing people their age involved in the upkeep of a club, and the women especially are really inspired by seeing another woman in charge.”

“Told you,” Ted says, nudging her leg with his knee. She gives him a smile.

“Everything is going better than I thought it would,” Keeley says. “After your profile with Trent Crimm is released, I don’t think we’ll have to do much more. And, honestly, the publicity is a great thing for the team, as well. We’re finally in the news for something that’s positive. We’re winning games and the people in charge actually know what they’re doing.”

“Well, whaddya know?” Ted says, shrugging and raising his eyebrows. “Things are startin’ to turn around.”

Rebecca smiles, nudging him with her elbow. “I knew they would,” she says.

“So, when is the interview? With Trent?” Keeley asks.

“Monday afternoon,” Ted says. He spoke with Trent after the press conference, promising an exclusive with him and Rebecca and some insight into their new campaign, and, unsurprisingly, Crimm agreed at once.

“Good,” Keeley says, nodding. “After that, I think things will really heat up. He’s usually pretty fair, but, given the chance to sensationalise, he’ll take it.”

“I thought his profile of me was actually quite open-minded,” Ted says, nodding.

Rebecca smiles. “That’s because you—what did you say? ‘Dipped in him in milk?’”

Ted nods, giving her a wink. “Killed him with kindness. Works every time.”

“Well, this time,” Keeley says, “just try to be yourselves. Be honest, look at each other.”

Rebecca turns to look at Ted, unable to help how the corner of her mouth lifts when she sees his face.

“Yeah, exactly like that, Rebecca,” Keeley says. Then Ted turns to look at her, his eyes softening when he sees her watching him.

“Okay, now that’s a little bit much,” Keeley says. “I don’t want Trent to actually ask you two if you’re shagging, right there at the interview.”

Ted drops a quick kiss on Rebecca’s cheek and Keeley smiles indulgently.

“You know,” she says, “if you two can pull it off, this might actually work!”

“You sound surprised,” Rebecca says, narrowing her eyes.

“Honestly,” Keeley says, “I thought this part would be a lot harder. The football-loving public are a tough crowd, Rebecca. I guess I just underestimated the pure sexual magnetism of you two.”

“I think you’re being overly generous, Keeley,” Rebecca says.

“Absolutely not, Rebecca.” Keeley says, shaking her head. “Believe me. By Wednesday you two will be the talk of the town.”

Ψ

Monday starts gloomy and cold, the harbinger of the much gloomier and colder weather she knows is coming later in the month, but Rebecca is sunny and happy in spite of it, and in spite of the difficulty she had fitting into the skirt she planned to wear that day. After several minutes of frustration, it simply would not zip, and she finally discarded her entire outfit in favour of a black and white dress that was equally striking but much more forgiving in the midsection.

They (Ted, Rebecca and Keeley, who sits a respectable distance away but is still within earshot so she can butt in if she hears something she doesn’t like) meet Trent Crimm at a local bistro, wanting to keep him away from either of their offices after Ted told her that the man had a tendency to move around the room like a Roomba, shuffling through people’s things. It would not do for Trent to find the little sonogram picture Ted kept in his desk, or the antenatal vitamins Rebecca’s got in hers.

So, they decide on neutral ground, in the hopes that neither party would appear to have the upper hand.

“I have to admit,” Trent starts, taking a sip of his espresso, “I was skeptical when I learned of the new branding strategy featuring the two of you.”

“Oh?” Rebecca says, her voice just a little higher than usual. “Why’s that?”

Trent effortlessly shrugs his shoulder in that way he does, giving away absolutely nothing. “Neither of you are very popular in Richmond, for a variety of reasons. It just seems that you’re trying very hard to get them to like you.”

“Well,” Rebecca starts, “whatever reasons the general public have for disliking us, there’s a good chance that they’re wrong.”

“Oh?” Crimm asks. “You’re saying that the fans of the football club are wrong?”

Rebecca smiles mildly, the same smile she uses for Ernie Lounds and for Rupert, on the rare, horrible occasions she has to be near them.

“Only that they may have been misinformed.” She shrugs, laughing softly. “There was a great deal of negative press after my divorce. Things were said about me that were absolutely untrue, and one of the goals of this campaign is to clear that up.” She glances at Ted, whose dark eyes are watching her in that way again, like he can’t believe she’s real and that they’re together. She wishes he could tone it down a little, as she can see Trent’s discerning gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them, missing nothing. But Ted’s affection also boldens her, and she turns back to Crimm.

“And Ted was also treated rather unfairly by the press last season,” she says, giving Trent a smile. “Obviously, Trent, your profile on him notwithstanding—” the man gives her a gracious nod “—but in spite of that bit of relatively positive press, I don’t think that Richmond really knows just how much work Ted has put into this team. How much he’s changed the culture here, too.”

She smiles up at Ted, unable to keep the affection out of her eyes. “Ted and I have got the team’s best interests at heart,” she says, turning back to Crimm, “and I think you’re starting to see the results of that on the pitch. The result of the hard work that’s been put in by all the staff, and the players, since the former owner left.”

Trent nods appreciably. “Okay,” he says, mildly, shrugging a shoulder again. “Tell me about it.”

So they do. She lets Ted take the lead, as he’s the most effusively honest and believable. He tells Trent about his history, glossing over a lot of it but taking care to mention his divorce, and that he’s on good terms with his ex and sees his son frequently. Trent tries to get more out of him on that matter, but Ted just throws a couple of cute quips his way, and suddenly they’re onto football, the club, the rules, the players, Beard, the story of Nate, and the people he’s met along the way.

Rebecca also briefly mentions her divorce, but not Rupert by name, using it to tell a similar story to that of Ted: that she was looking for something new, that she was inspired by Ted’s attitude early on, which is completely true, even if she tried to fight it at the time. Then she details how the little gestures and niceties Ted bestows on them, as well as the kindness and empathy he shows everyone on and off the field have changed the club from the bottom up.

She then talks a bit about their working relationship, and sees Trent’s ears prick up at this. That’s when she knows she’s got him, and a sly glance at Ted tells her that he does too. So, they play it up a little, talking about the biscuits and the support they’ve been giving each other throughout their mutual divorces, and Trent gets a look like he’s struck gold.

He’s about to ask them a question which will probably be rather inappropriate when Keeley pops up from the nearby sofa.

“Okay,” she says, approaching their table. “I think you’ve got enough, haven’t you, Trent?”

Trent gives her an obviously fake smile, nodding. “I think so,” he says, and Rebecca wonders how he manages to make such an innocuous phrase sound ominous. “Thank you,” he says, to Ted, and Rebecca, shaking their hands, and Keeley’s as well. “I’ll send my photographers round tomorrow at about two, that okay?” he asks the owner and the gaffer, and they both nod.

Crimm then shuffles off to cobble together what will either be an honest portrayal of the two people in charge of the club or a salacious account filled with innuendo. They’re fine with either.

“Well?” Rebecca asks Keeley.

“Went great. I was watching you two,” she says, smiling genuinely. “You’re adorable, you know that? I can’t wait ‘til more people know about you.” She shakes her head melodramatically. “This secret is killing me, Rebecca.”

“Well, darling,” she says, picking up her coat and bag, “do your job right and you won’t be the only one in the know anymore.”

Ψ

The next day, Rebecca is fourteen weeks pregnant, and is forced to wear a dress again as she and Ted pose for photos with The Independent’s photographer down on the pitch. She can’t fit any of her skirts or slacks anymore, and she has to wear a black blazer over the dress to effectively hide her swollen breasts.

Ted, on the other hand, is dressed in dark grey slacks and sport coat over a navy crew-neck jumper, and Rebecca has to work to hide the smile that dances on her lips each time she sees him.

“You like?” he asks, when he first emerges in his new outfit.

She nods, feeling her cheeks flush. “It’s a good look on you,” she says.

Ted then gives her a positively wanton look that promises more discussion of this later in the evening.

The proofs Crimm sends back are actually quite stunning, and she, Ted, and Keeley marvel over them before sending their picks back to the newspaper.

Trent’s promised an advance on the article that night, and Rebecca can’t help but be nervous about it. She saw the look in Crimm’s eye during the interview, that one that meant he knew absolutely everything but respected Ted too much to pry.

The man’s not a hack. In fact, Rebecca quite enjoys his columns and finds them balanced and objective. But he’ll have read between the lines of all of her and Ted’s exchanges, and will expect his readers to do the same, and before the week’s out, everyone will be giving the two of them a second look.

She’s in her office later that day, looking once again with gloom over some budget reports, which are quite grim. The move from the Premier to the Championship League certainly put a crimp in their cash inflow, and advertising, she notes, is not cheap. But she has hope this will all pay off, somewhere down the line.

She rubs at her lower back, which has started aching consistently now, much to her chagrin, but her doctor assures her it’s all normal.

Ted’s started bringing her double the biscuits in the morning, as she’s ‘eating for two’, and despite her protestations that she really shouldn’t be gaining that much weight, and that her insatiable appetite has already led to her growing out of most of her wardrobe, she secretly loves it. It’s nice to have a box to save for the afternoon, once her blood sugar begins to crash and she starts to daydream about wringing Higgins’s neck each time he asks a question.

“’Ello, Stinky!” comes a voice from the door, and Rebecca starts, looking up in abject surprise to see Flo Collins standing at the door in all her glory, smiling and dark-haired and nearly six feet tall. But unlike Rebecca, she’s always been able pull it off just a little bit better.

“Sass!” Rebecca says, standing, suddenly at a loss for words. She’s been so busy with everything lately that they’ve only managed a few half-hearted texts back and forth for weeks. “What are you doing in Richmond?”

Sassy shrugs, sidling into the office. “Was in the neighbourhood,” she says, giving Rebecca a wink. Off Rebecca’s look, she digresses. “Brought Nora in to see the orthodontist, actually. A specialist recommended by her dentist up north.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s going to cost a fortune to get that girl’s teeth fixed.” She shrugs, reaching the chair in front of Rebecca’s desk and placing a hand on the back of it. “Good thing I’ve got half of Darren’s money.” She laughs, and Rebecca can’t help the crooked smile she gives her friend. She rounds the desk to give her a hug.

“It’s lovely to see you,” Rebecca says, wincing as Flo’s strong arms squish her swollen breasts between them.

“Bloody hell, you’ve got some extra padding,” Flo says, as sassy as ever, as she pulls away from Rebecca, giving her a once-over from head to toe. Rebecca straightens, pulling at her dress and blazer.

“Do I?” she asks, as nonchalantly as she can. She wants to tell Sassy, she does. About it all. She’s just not sure she can. She’s fairly certain Flo at least has an inkling about her and Ted, but it’s still a little strange considering what happened in Liverpool. Even if Rebecca knows that Ted was in a dark place at the time and needed the comfort, she can’t help but wonder what could have happened if she’d followed him back to the hotel that night like she wanted to.

“Yeah,” Flo says, flopping down in the chair as Rebecca returns to hers, “what’s up? In our whole adult lives your weight has fluctuated maybe, what, half a stone? And now you’re looking positively zaftig.”

“Ooh,” Rebecca says, completely ignoring Flo’s comments, “haven’t heard that word in a while. You’ve been keeping up with your Sunday Times crossword.”

Flo shrugs. “You’re evading my questions, Stinky.”

“I don’t think actually heard a question in there, Sass. It was just a load of speculation about my weight, so I think you’ll excuse me if I decline to comment.” She gives her a smile. Sassy gives her a sly look. “I’m just—happy, I guess,” she says. “Don’t those two usually go together? Fat and happy?”

“For anyone else but you, yes,” Flo says. “Besides, what have you got to be so happy about?” She wiggles her eyebrows at Rebecca. “Could this have anything to do with the fact that you and Marlboro Man can’t stop making eyes at one another every time you’re within a hundred feet of each other?”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Rebecca says, scoffing.

“I think not,” Flo says, cocking her head at her, her eyes taking Rebecca in shrewdly. She raises her eyebrows. “Come on, Stinks. Give up the goods.”

Rebecca sighs, deflating a little. “Okay. Fine!” She shakes her head, taking a deep breath. “It happened at the beginning of August,” she says, wincing. She watches as Flo’s face changes, her eyes bugging out of her head, and her jaw dropping.

“That’s three—almost four months? Bloody hell, Stinky, I was just teasing. I didn’t think you two’d ever—” She shakes her head. “How—”

“Not my proudest moment,” Rebecca says. “Let’s just say beer and sorrow are never a good combination.”

“You’re telling me,” Sassy says, “I made a fifteen-year marriage out of it.”

Rebecca laughs softly, because, it’s mostly the truth.

“Blimey,” Sassy says. “I never thought you two would figure it out. I’m impressed, Bec.” Rebecca looks up at her, surprised. It’s a rarely-used nickname that Sassy only tends to pull out in the sincerest of moments. “How’s it going? And, also, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

Rebecca cocks her head at her friend. “You know it’s weird, Sass,” she says. “And I know you and Ted are perfectly fine around each other now. It’s still weird. I mean—”

“We’ve shagged the same man,” Sassy says, and Rebecca briefly closes her eyes.

“Yes, that’s what I was implying.”

“Yeah, but so what? You didn’t like him then, did you?”

“Well, that’s not really—"

“I practically told you several times that I was going to do it. And you seemed completely fine with it.”

“I was,” Rebecca says. She supposes she didn’t believe Sass would actually go through with it. And she was far too preoccupied at the time with Rupert and their anniversary to give any thought to the implications of two of her best mates shagging.

And—all of Sassy’s talk about riding Ted’s moustache came before her and Ted’s little moment outside the karaoke bar. The little moment that changed everything between them.

“I didn’t really care that much, then. I don’t know. There’s just too much emotion all wrapped up in it. My emotions. Guilt, regret.” She sighs. “But I’m fine with it, Sass, really, I am. I needed time. Ted and I needed to figure out—what we were. What we are.”

“And?” Sassy asks. “Did you? What are you, exactly? Lovers? Boyfriend/girlfriend?” She raises her eyebrows. “Partners?”

Rebecca narrows her eyes for a moment. “I think it may have moved into the last category,” she says softly. She registers Sassy’s surprise.

“Bloody hell, Stinky,” she says. “I can’t believe it. I mean—congratulations, obviously.”

“Thanks, Sass,” she says. It’s getting a little warm in her office, so she instinctively removes the blazer she’s been wearing and hangs it on the back of her chair. “I was just about to have tea before you came in. You want some?” she asks.

“Yeah, cheers,” Sassy says, and Rebecca gets up to pour them a couple of cups. When she comes back toward the desk, Sassy’s eyes bug out, and it’s then that Rebecca remembers the reason for the blazer in the first place.

“Your tits are huge, Rebecca,” she says, so shocked she forgets the ignominious nickname. She takes the teacup from her, her eyes wide. Rebecca turns away, disappearing behind her desk with her teacup.

“Are they?” she asks, innocuously, even if the blood is thundering in her ears. She looks down and shrugs, picking up the teacup delicately. Then she looks up at Sassy to see she has absolutely not fooled her oldest friend in the slightest.

“Yeah!” Sassy says, nodding her head a bit, her eyes wide. “What’s going on with you? Mine weren’t even that big when I was pregnant with Nora.”

And Rebecca’s not sure if a muscle in her face twitches, or if her eyes move a certain way, but whatever her tell is, Sassy picks it up in an instant.

“Hey,” she says, her voice softening. She moves her chair closer, just like Ted did a few weeks earlier, and Rebecca smirks in spite of herself. They really are two peas in a pod. Rebecca supposes that she certainly has a type. “Come on, Bec. I’m your best—well, your oldest friend. D’you remember when I found out I was pregs with Little N and I came straight over to your house to tell you? Pushed the old gasbag out of the way and came and found you in your room?”

“Yes,” Rebecca says, nodding. The emotion hits her then, and her lip starts to tremble. She looks up into Sass’s dark eyes and gives her a smile. “Well,” she says, slowly, “it would seem that, in spite of the odds, Ted and I have managed to conceive a child.”

“Oh my god!” Sassy shrieks, and Rebecca winces, not sure which one is worse: this or Keeley’s high-pitched squeals. “Oh my god,” she says, getting up from her chair. She rounds the desk and Rebecca reluctantly gets up, too, wrapping her arms around Flo and hugging her tightly. “I cannot believe it,” Sassy says, giving her one last squeeze.

“Well, you’re not the only one,” Rebecca says, as they disentangle themselves from each other. She’s surprised to see a few tears in Flo’s eyes and she hands her a tissue, only to feel nascent tears burning in her own. She shakes her head as they both dab at their eyes. “Ted and I have only started to come around to it in the past few days.”

“How long have you known?” Sassy asks.

“Couple weeks,” she says. “I thought it was the menopause at first. I couldn’t believe that it would be anything else. I didn’t even want to hope, I suppose.”

“I’m guessing this wasn’t planned,” Sass says, and Rebecca cackles.

“Absolutely not,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, we started dating at the beginning of August and the baby was conceived at the end of August, so what do you think?”

Sassy laughs, cackles even, dabbing at the tears that are still stubbornly falling from her eyes. “Oh, Stinky,” she says, “this could only happen to you.”

Rebecca laughs, Sassy’s tears bringing a whole new onslaught of tears from Rebecca’s own eyes.

“I suppose you’re right,” she says, shrugging.

“Blimey,” Sassy says. “That must mean you’re—”

“Fourteen weeks today,” Rebecca says.

Sassy just shakes her head, looking Rebecca up and down. “When I was fourteen weeks, I was huge!” she says. “And we’re the same height!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, darling,” she says, passing a flat hand over the little swelling beneath her navel that has reduced her wardrobe choices so absolutely, “I’ve already gained a stone and have had to buy new bras. And I can’t fit any of my skirts or slacks anymore. I’m just—swollen.”

“You carry it well, though, Stinks,” Sassy says, looking her friend up and down appraisingly. “Good for you. And good for Marlboro Man. I bet he’s disgustingly happy about his newest little cowboy. Cowgirl?”

“We don’t know yet,” Rebecca says, giving Sass a sassy smile. “I’m not sure if we’re even going to find out. And yes,” she says, her smile widening, “Ted is—a godsend. He really is.”

“And how is little Roy Rogers Jr.?” Sassy asks, pointing down at her friend’s midsection.

Rebecca smiles. “Good. There’s a very good chance the baby is completely normal, genetically. So, almost out of the woods,” she says, smiling. “I’m waiting on another test, though, before we announce it to the world. It’ll narrow it down even more. And, well, and it’s not exactly something we’re going to be able to announce any time soon, anyway. The press would have a field day with it.”

“Christ, that must be awful,” Sassy says, shaking her head. “That’s why I enjoy living in relative obscurity.”

“Believe me, sometimes I wish Ted would just decide to go back to Kansas City,” she says. “I’d sell the team and go with him.”

“Bloody hell, Stinks,” Sassy says, sitting down on the glass edge of her desk. “It’s a lot, isn’t it? In a short time.”

Rebecca nods, resuming her seat. She looks up at her friend. “I just feel so overwhelmed, all the time. We have this new campaign out, touting Ted and me as the saviours of the team—”

“Yeah, I saw that billboard on the way in!” Sassy says, laughing. “You two look super hot.”

“Well, thank you,” Rebecca says. “We’re trying to get the town on our side. See what a good couple we’d make. That way when we announce it, it won’t be a scandal. And then the baby will just be the icing on the cake.” She shrugs a shoulder.

“That’s a brilliant plan, actually,” Sassy says. “Who cooked that up?”

“Our very own sparkly unicorn. Miss Keeley Jones.”

“No way!” Sass says. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I’ve hired her on, here,” she says. “She helps with the social media and the players with their sponsorships and branding. And she’s helping Ted and I with this whole campaign of hers. She’s really coming into her own.”

“It’s lovely to see, innit,” Sass says, nudging Rebecca’s leg, “what a woman can do when she chucks her old man, finds a better one and gets a few opportunities to show everyone what she’s made of.”

Rebecca nudges her back.

“Proud of you,” Sassy says, and Rebecca smiles, nodding.

“Thank you, darling,” she says. She reaches up for Sassy’s hand and grips it solidly. “And thank you for coming back. Even if I didn’t deserve it.”

“You did,” Sassy says, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re not a bad person, Rebecca Welton. You never were, and despite Rupert’s best efforts, you still aren’t. And—I’m happy for you. You and the Lone Ranger. Congratulations, Stinky, you’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

Rebecca just laughs, reaching for the tissues as the tears begin to fall again.

Chapter Text

“So Sassy was happy, then?” Ted asks her, later that night. They’re cuddled up next to each other on the sofa watching Bake Off, Ted's newest obsession that has him trying to outdo all the contestants and leaving half-eaten cakes and tarts and tortes all over her house for her to eat, like she hasn’t gained enough weight already.

“She was,” Rebecca says, shrugging, “eventually. It’s a lot of information to take in in less than a minute.” She laughs softly. “But she’s excited for us, now. I’m glad I told her.”

“Why didn’t you tell her before?” Ted asks.

Rebecca just looks at him.

“Not because of—”

She shrugs violently. “I didn’t know what to do, Ted! It just seemed—weird. Telling her about me and you. And it was, sort of. But—we got over it. We’re adults.” She gives him a smile, but Ted just sighs, biting the inside of his lip.

“I’m sorry I slept with Sassy,” he says.

“Ted!” she says. “You do not have to apologise!”

“No, I do,” he says, nodding, a forelock of hair falling over his forehead. He brushes it back. “It was—I wasn’t in a very good place—well, you remember,” he says, gesturing toward her. “I’d met Sassy earlier and we hit it off, and she just showed up, and—I needed someone, I guess.”

“And that’s fine,” she says. “Sassy’d just gotten divorced, herself. She didn’t realise you’d just signed your divorce papers. She was just looking for a little fun, and like you said, you two had hit it off.”

“The thing is—” he starts, “I’m glad it was her. Even though I really, really wanted you to follow me back to the hotel that night.”

“Did you?” she says, a spike of shock running through her. “But you said—”

“Yeah,” he says, frowning and nodding, “I know, I know. I—you meant too much to me, Rebecca. I didn’t want to ruin what we had, what we were building together.” He smiles at her, his eyes roaming over her face. “But, like I said—I’m glad it was her who showed up at my door that night, because if it had been you—” he smiles, shaking his head, his eyes never leaving hers “—I wouldn’t have been able to say no. Not—not in a million years. And I think—”

“It would have been too soon,” she says, nodding. She gets it now, why this whole thing has been bothering both of them, even if all three of them have put it to bed, so to speak. “You’re right,” she says. “We would have fucked up the best thing in my life at the time, and I don’t know if we’d be where we are now.”

“I mean, I hope we would be, but—” he shrugs “—who knows? And, well, we only waited four months, anyway.”

Rebecca laughs. “Well, when it’s right,” she says, leaning forward to touch her forehead to his, and she feels Ted’s puff of soft laughter against her lips.

Rebecca’s phone rings, ruining the moment, but knowing it may be Keeley, she answers it.

“Hello, darling,” Rebecca says, “do you have it?”

It’s then that she realises how eerily similar this situation is to the one the last time Trent Crimm did a profile on one of her staff, and she sat, alone, on her bed, listening to Higgins and hoping the article would destroy what was left of Ted’s reputation.

She smiles as she looks over at Ted beside her, hears Keeley’s voice on the other end of the phone. It’s amazing how far she’s come.

“I do,” Keeley says. She sounds happy, which is a good sign.

“Hold on, Ted’s here, I’ll put you on speaker,” Rebecca says, doing just that and placing the phone on the coffee table in front of them.

“Okay,” Keeley says, “now I know you two remember the title of Ted’s profile back in February, right?”

“Ah, yes,” Rebecca says, grimacing, “’Wayward Ted’.”

“Yeah, well, listen to this: ‘Lasso and Welton Find Their Way’.”

“Are you serious?” Rebecca asks, smiling, gazing back at Ted.

“Very serious,” she says, “now, do you want me to read the whole thing, or—?”

“Just the salient bits, I think. I trust you won’t leave anything out.”

“Okay,” Keeley says, “just a second.” She clears her throat, and then she starts. “It’s been nine months since I last interviewed Ted Lasso, and in that time, his team, the Richmond Greyhounds, has been relegated from the Premier League. But you wouldn’t know it to look at him, or to look at Rebecca Welton, the owner of the team and the woman who hired Mr. Lasso all those months ago. They’re both ebullient, positive, glowing with hope that their steadily-winning club has what it takes to make it back into the Premier League by the end of this season.”

“Okay,” Ted says, nodding his head. “Not bad, so far.”

“Just keep reading?” Keeley asks. “Honestly, it’s all sort of—salient.”

“Sure, darling,” Rebecca says. She settles back against Ted, and the arm he’s thrown over the back of the sofa curls around her shoulders.

“Okay, so, continuing on: And I’ll say what I said nine months ago: I wouldn’t bet against them. Because Ted Lasso and Rebecca Welton clearly work very well together. Both having divorced their spouses earlier this year, they’ve formed a formidable team, a unit that supports each other and seemingly inspires each other to do better,” Keeley says, and Rebecca laughs softly and incredulously.

“Wow,” she says, looking at Ted. He shakes his head.

“Oh,” Keeley says, “here’s the next bit: And while this reporter has questions about the true nature of their relationship, he does not question the commitment they have toward AFC Richmond.”

“Huh,” Rebecca says. “That’s not—terrible,” she says. “But it’s certainly going to start some discourse.”

“No, it’s good,” Keeley says, “it’s vague, but people will read into it. Okay, the next couple paragraphs are just about the football, you know, the changes Ted has made in the locker room, and he connects that to the team’s winning record, which is good.”

“Very good,” Rebecca says. “I didn’t know he was capable of being so positive.”

“Oh, heck,” Ted says, “Trent Crimm’s a softie at heart, you two, can't you see it? Sometimes you just gotta crack through that outer shell, and then you'll find it’s all gooey inside. Like an egg, I suppose.”

Rebecca smiles. “Okay, what else, Keel?”

“Okay, so he starts in on you, Rebecca.”

“Oh, God,” she says.

“No! It’s good,” Keeley says. “Rebecca Welton is a little more reserved, and holds her cards much closer to the vest than Lasso does, but she’s much warmer and funnier in person than perhaps I imagined her to be. She peppers what she tells me with titters and little jokes, glancing at her colleague with affection that is as obvious as it is difficult to categorise.”

“No, you’re right,” Rebecca says, surprised. “That’s actually really lovely.”

“It’s true,” Keeley says.

“Yeah, babe,” Ted says, beside her. “He’s just telling it like it is.”

“Well, thank you two,” Rebecca says, rolling her eyes, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Is there more?”

“Yes,” Keeley says, “he talks about you two being a huge part of the success of the team, then about how he predicted Ted would fail, and he was right, blah blah, but, ooh, he says this: I did not expect Lasso to stand up, brush himself off, and immediately start work to get the team promoted back into the Premier League. And then there’s a quote from you, Ted. Do you want me to read it?”

“Hell, yeah,” Ted says. “Are you going to do my accent?”

“I was going to try,” Keeley says, “but I’m not very good at it. I’m better than Roy, though. Okay, so: ‘I always tell my players to be a goldfish,’ Lasso, 45, says in his folksy Kansas way, ‘because they have the shortest memory. Stand up, brush yourself off, and forget what just happened. That’s my motto.’”

“Folksy,” Ted says. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think so,” Rebecca says, nodding. “It’s sweet.”

“Yeah, well, you’re biased, babe,” he says, giving her shoulder squeeze.

“I think it’s nice,” Keeley says. “There are much worse words he could have used. So, the next section, and I didn’t know he was going to do this. He interviewed some of the players.”

“He did what?” Rebecca asks. “We didn’t ask him to do that.”

“I know,” Keeley says, “and the little shits didn’t tell me about it, either.” She sighs. “But you know what? It’s all good. It’s just Sam, Dani and Isaac. And it’s nice stuff they’re saying. He uses it to prove his point that the changes in the locker room have produced results. It’s sweet.”

“Okay, then,” Ted says, shrugging. “I don’t mind that.”

“I suppose not,” Rebecca says. She still doesn’t like the idea of Crimm sniffing around the locker room, or hanging around the stadium after training to get a comment from one of her players.

“This is what he says right after: And, so, it would seem that Ted Lasso’s positivity and focus on building the character of his players, something he spoke of at length back in February, has had a substantial impact on not only the camaraderie between the players, but also on their steadily-increasing numbers in the wins column.”

“Wow,” Rebecca says. “This is really good. Did one of you slip him fifty quid after the interview?”

“No!” Ted says.

“Absolutely not, Rebecca,” Keeley says. “This is the truth he’s writing. Not all journalists are like Ernie Lounds.”

Rebecca raises her eyebrows. “I suppose. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Well, honestly,” Keeley says, “it doesn’t, really. It’s thoughtful and balanced. I’m really impressed. Should I read the rest?”

“Yeah, go on,” Rebecca says, leaning forward to grab a biscuit from the plate Ted left on the table in front of her.

“Okay, so the next bit’s about you, Rebecca, so prepare yourself: And the camaraderie extends upstairs, too, to the office of majority owner Rebecca Welton, who took this team over in January, and has had some rough road along the way. ‘I’m finding my way back,’ Welton, 44, says, glancing at Lasso in a way that can only be described as loving. ‘And I’ve never been more focussed on this team, and on getting it to where it needs to be.’”

“’Loving’?” Rebecca asks, having almost choked on her biscuit. “He certainly doesn’t leave much between the lines. It’s going to be mayhem when this is released!”

“I can call him,” Keeley says, “try to get it changed.”

“No,” Ted says, shaking his head, “leave it in. It’s what we wanted, Rebecca. Everyone will gossip about us, and then we simply just—segue into Stage Two.” He shrugs a shoulder.

“I agree, Ted,” Keeley’s voice says, from where the phone is perched on the coffee table, “we’ve got to get this thing moving, Rebecca. You’re out of your first trimester now. People are going to start to ask questions.”

“No, you’re right,” Rebecca says with a sigh. Even if Sassy is her oldest friend, she still sussed it out earlier today without any hints. “Is that it?”

“No, there’s more,” Keeley says. “The last bit. I’ll just read it all: And while the odds are long, the team is young, and the coach is perhaps more suited to the gridiron than to the pitch, I also can’t help but grin when these two attractive, well-dressed, relatively young adults tell me they want to get their team promoted to the Premier League, and then, as Coach Lasso so delicately puts it, ‘win the whole f*cking thing.’”

“Attractive? Well-dressed?” Rebecca asks.

“Yeah, is he hittin’ on us?” Ted asks.

“It kind of sounds that way, doesn’t it?” Keeley says. “I think he’s just trying to do what I was trying to do: make you two seem sexy and cool. He’s probably used to interviewing all these grey-haired old men with antiquated ideals. You guys are firmly Gen X, the same as Trent. It’s probably cool for him to see people his own age in charge of a football club.”

“You’re right,” Rebecca says. “It is a bit jarring, though.”

“The people will eat it up,” Keeley says, and Rebecca can’t help but hum in agreement. “Okay, next bit: Because this team has grown in a way that is perhaps not definable in professional sports. It’s built bonds between young men, between coaches and players, and even owners. It’s built up trust in the locker room, made it a safe space to be one’s self. And that is not to say that there has been any slacking on the pitch. Coaches Lasso, Beard, and Shelley schedule training as often as any Championship football team does, and they work their players hard. But there is a passion that builds, when a team comes together like this, an ability to, as Coach Lasso says, ‘believe’ that anything and everything are possible. And you know what?”

“Okay are you asking that, or is Trent?” Ted asks.

“Trent is!” Keeley says, laughing softly. “I think you know what the last bit is going to be. But here it is, anyway: I can’t help but root for them.”

Rebecca laughs, incredulously. It’s very strange to hear those words again and have a positive reaction, this time. But she does.

“That’s fantastic, Keeley,” Rebecca says. “I don’t know why he seems to like us so much, but I think it’ll totally turn things around in the eyes of the public.”

“There’s nothing he said here that isn’t true, Rebecca,” Keeley says, and Ted nods beside her. “We’re just not used to reporters actually telling the truth.”

“I just can’t believe it,” she says, “I didn’t expect this.”

“Well, I did,” Ted says. “It’s like I told you, he’s a marshmallow on the inside. And he likes us for some reason.”

“Yeah, ships you, even,” Keeley says, and Ted nods.

“You know what that word means?” Rebecca asks.

“Hell yeah,” Ted says. “I was a huge X-Files fan back in the day. Still am, actually. It’s like the longest romantic comedy in history. Eleven seasons over twenty-five years. And with some aliens thrown in. You know, for good measure.”

Rebecca laughs, shaking her head.

“Okay, well, thanks so much, Keeley,” she tells her phone, “we owe you our eternal gratitude.”

“And your first-born?” Keeley asks.

“Well, we can’t give you our child, Keeley, I’m sorry. But you can certainly babysit any time you want,” Ted says, nodding.

“Awesome,” she says, “can’t wait. All right, you two, get some sleep, yeah?”

“Will do, Keeley,” Ted says. “We appreciate all your help.”

They say their goodnights and Rebecca disconnects the call, and they sit there, in the relative silence, while Paul Hollywood drones on about pastry thickness in the background.

“Huh,” Ted says.

“Yes,” Rebecca answers, nodding.

“This is going to be a huge story, isn’t it?”

“Fairly huge. We’ll be getting questions left and right after this.”

“But we just ignore ‘em, right?” Ted asks.

“For now. The press and social media can speculate all they like. As long as it’s positive and not seen as a scandal, it’s good press for us.”

“Right,” Ted says. “But—it’s not just the press that’s going to have questions.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well—the team, for starters. Nate. Higgins. Hell, I know Michelle still follows the news over there for Henry, tells him what’s going on with the team. My mom, too.”

“So, what are you saying? We get ahead of the story?”

“I think we have to,” Ted says. “I can’t deal with 25 guys asking me if we’re datin’ tomorrow. My mom callin’ me, Michelle callin’ me. We gotta focus on the football. And I’m sure Higgins will be giving you that look he gives you when he knows something’s going on.”

“Oh, I hate that look,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. She sighs. “No, I think you’re right. We have to get ahead of the story.”

“But that means—” Ted starts, and she nods.

“Yeah,” she says, grimacing. “We’ll have to tell them about us. All of them.” She sighs. “And our families, too. Michelle, your mum. My mum. Henry.”

Ted lets out a breath. “Yeah,” he says. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Boy,” he says, shaking his head. “This is going to be hard.”

“Hard, but—a long time coming, I think.” She reaches down and grasps his warm hand, threading her fingers through his. “Just think—we won’t have to hide anymore. We can go out for a walk, go to the supermarket together. You can move in with me.”

“Yeah,” Ted says, smiling crookedly. “Yeah. I didn’t think of that.”

“You’re still stuck on telling Michelle,” she says.

“Yeah,” Ted answers, almost immediately, nodding.

“You know, I’ll tell her if it’s that big of a deal,” she says, and Ted perks up a little.

Then he shakes his head. “No, Rebecca. I’ll tell her,” he says, nodding, even while his face is fixed in a deep frown. He looks at his watch, and she watches him count back the hours. “It’s five o’clock there,” he says. “She’ll probably’ve just got home from work. She’ll be tired, cranky, looking for something to make for dinner. Henry’ll be bouncing off the walls, driving her crazy.”

“Best wait until tomorrow, then,” Rebecca says delicately, nodding. She’s only met the woman a couple of times and she doesn’t want to get on her bad side already. “You can call in her the afternoon, and catch her before she goes to work?”

“Yeah,” Ted says. “I think that’s a better idea. What about your mom?”

“Same thing, I think. I don’t feel like talking to her tonight. I’m knackered,” she says. “Your child is sucking the life out of me.”

Ted gives her a soft smile. “Just you wait,” he says, “Henry was a very active fetus. That’s what the doctor said. Kept Michelle up all hours of the night.”

“Oh, well, I can’t wait,” she says, sarcastically, even if she’s smiling soppily at him.

“So, tomorrow?”

“Right,” she says. “We’ll tell them all at once. Before training. Get Higgins down there. Nate and Beard and all of the support staff, too. I don’t want them gossiping every time we walk past. We just tell them, and that’s it. Answer their questions, and send them out onto the pitch. The story will break tomorrow afternoon, and—we’ll be at the mercy of the general public.”

“Yeah,” he says. “But I’m not worried, babe.”

“No?” she asks.

“Nah,” he says. “I mean, we managed to charm Trent Crimm.” He laughs, incredulously. “Everyone else will be easy.”

She cuddles up next to him, wrapping an arm across his torso and tucking her head into his shoulder.

“Well, I’ve learned that I shouldn’t bet against you, Ted Lasso,” she says. “I think you’re going to be right.”

Ψ

“Lasso and Welton Find Their Way”

It’s been nine months since I last interviewed Ted Lasso, and in that time, his team, the Richmond Greyhounds, has been relegated from the Premier League. But you wouldn’t know it to look at him, or to look at Rebecca Welton, the owner of the team and the woman who hired Mr. Lasso all those months ago. They’re both ebullient, positive, glowing with hope that their steadily-winning club has what it takes to make it back into the Premier League by the end of this season.

And I’ll say what I said nine months ago: I wouldn’t bet against them. Because Ted Lasso and Rebecca Welton clearly work very well together. Both having divorced their spouses earlier this year, they’ve formed a formidable team, a unit that supports each other and seemingly inspires each other to do better. And while this reporter has questions about the true nature of their relationship, he does not question the commitment they have toward AFC Richmond.

Lasso is as guileless as ever, laying it all out for me as we speak in a quiet Richmond café, and I know that the tales of kit man Nathan Shelley’s inspiring promotion to coach and that of the little signs reading ‘BELIEVE’ the man has tacked all over the locker room and his home as a sort of affirmation to his players and himself, are the truth.

The effect that this positive mindset and this new empathetic outlook have had on the players is debatable. But the team continues to win games, now sitting at an 8-4-4 record, and firmly in third place, so something must be going right down at Nelson Road.

Rebecca Welton is a little more reserved, and holds her cards much closer to the vest than Lasso does, but she’s much warmer and funnier in person than perhaps I imagined her to be. She peppers what she tells me with titters and little jokes, glancing at her colleague with affection that is as obvious as it is difficult to categorise.

What is obvious, is that so much of the success of this team is owed to these two people.

Nine months ago, I wrote that I expected Ted Lasso to fail in Richmond. And he did.

I did not expect Lasso to stand up, brush himself off, and immediately start work to get the team promoted back into the Premier League.

“I always tell my players to be a goldfish,” Lasso, 45, says in his folksy Kansas way, “because they have the shortest memory. Stand up, brush yourself off, and forget what just happened. That’s my motto.”

Ah.

And, indeed, when contacting players for comment, the general consensus seemed the same:

SAM OBISANYA: The first day I met Coach Lasso, he told me that. Be a goldfish. And it changed my life.

DANI ROJAS: Coach Lasso is a great man. He is so positive, so inspiring. He reminds me every day that football is life.

ISAAC MCADOO: When I first met Coach, I was skeptical, but he helped me, changed me. I wouldn’t be the captain of this team if it weren’t for him.

And, so, it would seem that Ted Lasso’s positivity and focus on building the character of his players, something he spoke of at length back in February, has had a substantial impact on not only the camaraderie between the players, but also on their steadily-increasing numbers in the wins column.

And the camaraderie extends upstairs, too, to the office of majority owner Rebecca Welton, who took this team over in January, and has had some rough road along the way.

“I’m finding my way back,” Welton, 44, says, glancing at Lasso in a way that can only be described as loving. “And I’ve never been more focussed on this team, and on getting it to where it needs to be.”

She gives me a wide, warm smile that extends up into her eyes as she says this, and it’s very hard to doubt her.

And while the odds are long, the team is young, and the coach is perhaps more suited to the gridiron than to the pitch, I also can’t help but grin when these two attractive, well-dressed, relatively young adults tell me they want to get their team promoted to the Premier League, and then, as Coach Lasso so delicately puts it, “win the whole f*cking thing.”

Because this team has grown in a way that is perhaps not definable in professional sports. It’s built bonds between young men, between coaches and players, and even owners. It’s built up trust in the locker room, made it a safe space to be one’s self.

And that is not to say that there has been any slacking on the pitch. Coaches Lasso, Beard, and Shelley schedule training as often as any Championship football team does, and they work their players hard.

But there is a passion that builds, when a team comes together like this, an ability to, as Coach Lasso says, ‘believe’ that anything and everything are possible. And you know what?

I can’t help but root for them.

Chapter Text

The next morning, they both arrive at Nelson Road separately, Rebecca having dropped off Ted at his place as she regularly does now so that he and Beard can take their daily constitutional to the stadium.

She’s nervous, pacing the office, when Ted busts in, two pink boxes in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, and she turns to him, smiling tightly. “You okay?”

She takes the biscuits from him and returns to her desk, setting them down on the worktop but not opening either box.

“I’m okay,” she says, nodding, but Ted’s dark eyes glance between her and the untouched treats.

“I’ve never seen you wait that long to eat those,” he says, shaking his head. “Not even the day after you barfed ‘em up.”

“Okay, I’m obviously not fine, Ted,” she says. “My stomach’s like a—walnut. I can’t eat anything.”

“Baby needs food,” Ted says, and she nods.

“I know,” she says. “I know she does.” She smiles tightly. “I just—I’m too nervous. Things are going to change round here, and I don’t know that I’m ready for it.”

“Well, you’re not alone, babe,” he says. “And remember why we’re doing this,” he says, pointing at her belly, “for her.”

Rebecca nods, smiling. “You’re right,” she says. She takes a deep breath, then nods. “I’ll meet you down there in an hour?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” he says, giving her a wink. “I’m off to tell Beard. I’ll see you then.”

BEARD

Ted Lasso is a man with a plan as he descends into the locker room and walks past the stalls to thankfully find Coach Beard alone in their shared office, scrolling through something on his phone.

“Hey, Coach,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“Coach,” Beard says.

Ted sits down on the edge of Beard’s desk, and the older man sits up straight in his chair, his eyes widening.

“Boy, that bad, huh?” Beard asks.

“Yeah,” Ted says. “Well, no. Not bad. But I do need to tell you something.”

“Is this about you and Rebecca?” he asks, not missing a beat.

“Yeah,” Ted says, nodding, “you already know, don’t you? Okay, that’s good. That’s good.”

“It getting serious?”

“I’d say that,” Ted says. “I’m gonna be movin’ in with her in a little while.”

“Is that so?” Beard asks, eyebrows sky-high. “Wow.”

“I mean, I’m going to miss livin’ right in the middle of town, talkin’ to everyone, playin’ soccer with Shannon every day, bein’ right next to the pub. Havin’ you and Nate over whenever. And, bein’ close to you, too,” he says. “I’ll miss that.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Coach.” Beard says, giving him a nod. Ted smiles.

“And, uh, there’s somethin’ else, too,” he says, smiling tightly. “Somethin’ I’m gonna need you to keep to yourself for the next few weeks.”

“This have anything to do with how Rebecca keeps touching her stomach?”

“You noticed?” Ted says, flabbergasted. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Good eye, Coach.” He gives him a wink. “Yes, indeed, it does have something to do with that. A lot to do with that, actually.”

“She pregnant?” Beard asks.

“Yup,” Ted says, nodding.

“How’d she get that way?”

“I—uh—” he starts, pointing at himself. “Me.”

Beard nods, a smile appearing on his face. “She think she was too old?”

Ted nods, shrugging. “Yeah,” he says. “But—” he says, laughing incredulously, “obviously not!”

“Congratulations, Coach,” Beard says, reaching out a hand. Ted gives him a firm shake.

“Thank you, sir,” Ted says. Then he shakes his head, smiling. “This was way easier than I thought it’d be.”

Beard gives him a shrug. “Rebecca and the baby all right?”

“Yes, they are,” he says. “All signs point to this kid being normal and healthy and Rebecca is doin’ fine. She’s a little anxious, especially ‘cuz a bunch of her clothes don’t fit her anymore, and she’s hungry all the time, but she’s doin’ all right. It was certainly a surprise. But, hey, I love her, man.”

Beard laughs softly. “It’s nice to hear you say it. Thought I’d be waiting years.”

Ted shrugs, smiling.

“You told Michelle yet?”

“Uh, no, sir, I have not.”

“Worried?”

“Very much so, yes,” he says. “I’m gonna call her at around one, catch her after she drops off Henry at school and before she goes to work.” He sighs. “How d’you think she’s gonna react?”

Beard thinks about it for a second or two, moving his head from side to side. “I think she’ll be fine with you and Rebecca,” he says. “Baby’s another matter.”

“Right,” Ted says. “Right. Yeah. Well, I’m not gonna tell her about that today. We’re waitin’ on some tests, and Rebecca wants to make it to sixteen weeks before we say anything to anyone.”

“How far along is she now?” Beard asks.

“Fourteen,” Ted says, softly. He bites his lip as Beard’s eyebrows hit the roof. “And yeah, I know, I know,” he says, getting up, starting to pace the room. “This is gonna look bad, but you know as well as I do that I’ve loved that woman probably since the first time I laid eyes on her, so don’t give me any of that. This baby was conceived in love, and its parents are committed to each other. Even if we only started datin’ three weeks before I knocked her up, but you know what? That don’t matter. Yeah, we would have liked to have a little more time to get to know each other, but you know what? Rebecca’s wanted a baby since she married Rupert and he wouldn’t give her one, so I’m happy to give her this. And, hell, I’m excited about bein’ a dad again, too. You know, I missed a lot with Henry. And I don’t wanna miss anything with this kid. And I wanna get Henry over here, get him involved.” He takes a breath, smiling. The thought of his two children together always gives him a little rush of hope and excitement. “It’s gonna be okay. I just keep thinkin’ about Rebecca’s face, when we saw the sonogram, you know. She’s scared but when she lets herself be happy, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ted takes a breath, nodding.

“Feel better?” Beard asks.

“Much better,” Ted says, giving him a thankful smile. “Thanks for lettin’ me—oh,” he says, “hold on.” He reaches into his desk drawer and retrieves the little sonogram photo. He hands it to Beard, who laughs with delight.

“Well, look at that,” he says, and Ted’s not sure he’s ever seen the man smile that widely before. “Looks like you.”

Ted laughs. “You know, everyone keeps sayin’ that,” he says. “We’ll see when she gets here.”

“She?” Beard asks.

“Um, oh, that’s just what Keeley thinks, and Rebecca, too, I gather. But we’re not findin’ out. Not yet, anyway. Not until we know everything’s okay.” Beard hands him back the picture and Ted stows it back in his desk drawer, under a box of staples.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me this now?” Beard asks. “Some story coming out or something?”

Ted laughs. “You know, funny you should ask that—"

HIGGINS

Rebecca’s managed to get one biscuit into her stomach, and is washing it down with a cup of tea when Higgins walks in, nattering on about something or another that she’s not really paying attention to.

“Rebecca,” he says, and it takes her a moment to realise he’s talking to her.

“Yes?” she asks, turning to look at him.

“Are you quite all right?” he asks. “I’m afraid you’re going to break the handle on that teacup.”

“What?” she asks, looking down at her hand, which is gripping it a little bit firmly. “Oh,” she says. She places it back on the saucer, her hand shaking a little.

“Again, are you sure you’re okay? You’re pale as a ghost.”

“I’m—” she says, looking up at the man, all googly eyes and jowls. She’s become quite fond of him since she decided to forgive him, even if he does consistently annoy her. But he’s a good friend, and they’ve found a new sort of equilibrium in the interim that has increased productivity exponentially. “Higgins, can you close the door?”

“Erm, sure,” he says, walking toward the door and then leaving the room, starting to close it on himself.

“No—” she says, rolling her eyes. “With you on the inside.” She smiles, reassuringly, and he complies.

“Again, Rebecca,” he says, as he begins to approach her desk again. “Are you okay?”

“No, Higgins,” she says. “I’m not. Take a seat, please, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” he says, cautiously, sitting down in the chair.

“So—Trent Crimm is doing a profile on Ted and me, you know, to go along with the whole branding campaign that we’ve put in place.”

“Ah, yes,” he says, pumping one of his arms. “Ted and Rebecca! Everywhere I look, I see you two. But you look great. A smart pair, as my mother would say.”

“Well, yes, that’s—” she clears her throat. “The thing is, that, in this profile, which will be released some time this afternoon, Mr. Crimm insinuates a few things about our relationship. Ted’s and my relationship, that is.”

“I see,” Higgins says, nodding sagely. “And you’re upset because these things aren’t true?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m upset because they are true, and everyone is going to know.”

“I see,” Higgins says, and then the penny drops, and his eyes bug out of his head. “What?”

“Yes,” she says, nodding.

“You and Ted?” he asks, shaking his head. “Are you mad? He’s your employee!”

Rebecca nods. “Yes, yes he is. But we’re both consenting adults, Higgins. We’re both roughly the same age. We’ve both been divorced for quite some time now.”

“Barely a year!” Higgins says, dramatically, and she rolls her eyes. “I just—what were you two thinking?”

“Well, we weren’t thinking anything,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “We like each other. You even might go so far as to say that we love each other.” She smiles, hesitantly, picking up her teacup again and taking a sip.

“Oh, wow,” Higgins says, his righteous indignation evaporating. “I didn’t—I didn’t realise. Although, on second thought, you know, I do see it.” He smiles, genuinely. “I’m sorry, Rebecca, I just—don’t know what came over me.”

She smiles, nodding. Christ, she thinks, wait until he finds out about the baby.

“Thank you, Leslie,” she says.

“So how long has this been going on?” Higgins asks.

“Since August,” she says, giving a nonchalant shrug.

“August!” he says, eyes bugging out. “Good lord!” he says, but then he shakes his head, giving her a half-hearted smile. “I mean, wow! Is it getting serious, then, with you two? Wedding bells on the horizon?”

She laughs. “I don’t think either of us is particularly keen on jumping into marriage again so quickly,” she says. “We’ve been taking it slow. But Ted is planning on moving in with me, in a week or two.”

“I see,” Higgins says, looking almost impressed. “Well! I don’t know what to say. Are you happy, Rebecca?”

She smiles, softly at first, but then it grows into a toothy grin that she can’t repress. “I am,” she says, genuinely. “For the first time since Rupert, I—” she sighs “—I see a future, Higgins. And not just that, Ted’s just—changed my whole world. You know how he is. I just—I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“It’s not luck, Rebecca,” Higgins says, his tone softening, and she’s warmed by the genuine sentiment in his voice. “It’s you. He fell in love with you, for you. And I know that Rupert—wasn’t the greatest man. I know that and I accept my role in that. If I’d spoken up, perhaps—you could have been rid of him sooner. But I didn’t. And Ted is—he’s a wonderful man, and you’re a wonderful woman, and it’s taken me a few minutes to process it, but I’m happy for you. Both of you. You deserve happiness.”

Rebecca doesn’t know if it’s Higgins’s rare emotionality or the hormones (it’s probably both), but she quickly reaches for a tissue, to catch the nascent tears that his words have sprung on her.

“Sorry,” she says, “it’s just—it’s all new, and there’s a lot of emotions, you know, after Rupert.” She dabs her eyes dry, not wanting to ruin her mascara.

“I understand,” he says, nodding.

“Thank you, Higgins,” she says, sniffling. “It means a lot.” She gives him a smile. “Now, we’re going to tell everyone in half an hour, downstairs in the locker room. Can I count on you to be there? And to look surprised and supportive?”

“You surely can, Rebecca,” he says. “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Higgins,” she says.

AFC RICHMOND

Twenty minutes later, she meets with Ted in his office. He and Beard are chatting amiably while Nathan sits nearby, listening with a smile. The boys are dressed and ready for training, chatting back and forth, some receiving treatment, others working out. A few glance up at her as she enters, giving her a smile. Some even greet her respectably as she walks the length of the locker room and enters the coaches’ office.

Ted’s eyes light up when he sees her, and she smiles in spite of the pit in her stomach.

“Hello, Ms. Welton,” Nathan says, politely. “Nice to see you down here.”

“Thank you, Nathan,” she says, giving him a nod.

“Rebecca,” Beard says, with a look that makes her think he’s already in on the joke. She glances at Ted for confirmation and he nods. Beard knows. About everything, judging by the way his eyes follow her hand as she places it on her abdomen, something she’s been doing a lot lately without even thinking about it.

“You ready?” Ted asks, getting up from the desk.

“Ready for what?” Nate asks, hopping down off the bookcase and looking at them all inquisitively.

“Nate, could you go sit down next to Isaac, please?” Ted asks, and the younger man nods, complying.

“Boys!” Beard says, just as the locker room door swings open and Higgins appears, looking a bit out of breath.

“You tell him?” Ted asks, softly, and she nods.

“Only about us,” she murmurs.

The players start to file in, taking their assigned seats and looking up at the three standing at the head of the room.

“Okay,” Ted says, and Beard steps off to the right a bit, giving Ted and Rebecca the floor, “that everyone?”

A few heads nod as they look around the room.

“That’s everyone, Coach,” Beard says from the corner, and Ted nods.

“Good morning, boys,” Ted says, nodding at his team. “How’s everyone doing today?”

“Good, coach,” Dani says, smiling. A few more heads nod.

“Great,” Ted says, “That’s good. So, you’ve probably all noticed the big photos of Rebecca and me all over the stadium, and the town, and, uh, everything?” Several of the players nod their heads. “Well, we’ve also done an interview with Trent Crimm, you know, to talk about it, and talk about the team. That story’s going to break this afternoon,” he says.

“So, what about it?” Colin asks, and Rebecca smiles, dipping her head.

“Well,” Ted starts. “There’s something Trent’s gonna imply in that story that, uh, that Rebecca and I need to tell y’all about,” he says, and he reaches back for her hand.

It takes her a second, but she slips her hand into his, and predictably, the room erupts into a chorus of ‘ooh’s. Rebecca dips her head again, blushing furiously as she steps up beside Ted.

“Uh, yeah,” Ted says, “so—we’ve been datin’ for about four months now—”

The ‘ooh’s get louder, deafening, almost, with nearly everyone, including Higgins, she sees with disbelief, participating.

“I knew it!” Colin says, pointing at them.

“Congratulations, Coach!” Dani Rojas says, getting up from his seat and coming over to shake Ted’s hand. “And you, too, Ms. Welton!” He smiles, vibrating with joy. “It’s so lovely to see you both happy!”

“Ms. Welton,” Sam says, on Dani’s heels, a wide toothy smile on his face. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Sam,” she says, shaking a hand of the young man she’s always had a soft spot for.

Things sort of break down from there. The players come up, one by one, giving Ted a handshake or a pat on the shoulder, then shaking Rebecca’s hand while giving her a congratulatory smile.

The energy is palpable, and positive, and she sees only smiles on the boys’ faces.

That is, until Isaac walks up, his customary scowl etched deep on his young face. “If you hurt her—" he says, pointing at Ted, clearly taking his duties as captain very seriously.

“Yeah, I got you,” Ted says, nodding. “You don’t have to worry about that, Isaac.” Isaac nods, stepping over in front of Rebecca.

“And I’ll say the same to you, Ms. Welton,” Isaac says, nodding his head toward Ted, and Rebecca reacts with delighted surprise.

“Oh,” she says. Then she shakes her head. “I appreciate your concern, Isaac,” she says, “but, again, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Isaac looks pleased with that, giving her free hand a fist bump. She laughs.

“All right, boys,” Beard says, loudly, from the corner, “everyone out to the pitch. Training time!”

The players comply, filing out toward the pitch like rambunctious kids, whispering and laughing with each other about the news they’ve just learned, and Rebecca takes Ted's hand again.

But as they leave, Nate approaches Ted sadly. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he says, shaking his head. “I thought we were friends.”

“Oh, Nate,” Ted says, releasing Rebecca’s hand and giving the younger man a hug. “I’m sorry. You know, we just needed to keep it to ourselves for a little while. I mean, Beard didn’t even know,” he says, nodding toward their other coach. “I mean he did know,” he says, and he sees Nate’s eyes get sadder, “but—but I didn’t tell him! He guessed!” Ted shrugs. “I mean, nobody knew. For obvious reasons.”

“Right,” Nate says, straightening up his clothing, nodding. “The press.”

“Exactly,” he says, “but, hey, come on, get out there, now. We need Coach Nate out on the pitch for training,” he says, giving him a wink. Nate smiles, nodding.

“Congratulations, Ted,” he says, giving him a nod, “Ms. Welton.”

“Thank you, Nathan,” she says giving him a smile. “And please call me Rebecca.”

Nate opens his mouth soundlessly, a little of the old anxiety coming back. But then he smiles, blushing a little, and nods.

“Okay, er, Rebecca,” he says, “congratulations.”

Then he awkwardly turns and follows the last of the players out, and Beard follows him.

Ted turns to Rebecca, his eyes wide.

“That was close,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief, “you don’t wanna disappoint Nate. He can be very violent in his dreams.”

She just laughs, shaking her head as Higgins ambles over, looking the two of them up and down.

“Congratulations, Ted,” he says, extending a hand. Ted shakes it, giving Rebecca a surprised look. She shrugs. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you—”

“You don’t,” Ted says. “I know—I know you were there, you know, with the—former owner,” he says. “And I promise you I that I will treat Rebecca with the utmost respect and patience and—”

“Understanding,” Rebecca offers, slipping her hand back into Ted’s, “devotion.”

Ted smiles, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. When they pull away, Higgins is watching them like a kid in a candy store.

“I really do see it now,” he says, giving Rebecca a wink. “Congratulations, you two.”

MICHELLE

Ted Lasso doesn’t know what he was expecting when he called his former wife to tell her he’d been in a relationship with his boss for four months, but it certainly wasn’t Michelle guessing what he was about to say before he even said it.

“How’d you know?” he asks. He’s in his office, alone, Nate and Beard having vacated it for him for the express purpose of making this call.

“Ted,” she says, “come on. I saw it. That day in her office. And I tried to tell you—”

“I know, I know,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, you were right. I mean, what else can I say? It took me a while to figure it out, but—”

“Do you love her?” she asks, merely curious, even if it’s a tad wistful.

“I do,” he says, smiling in spite of himself. “I really do, and I—I wasn’t looking for it, Michelle, believe me. It just kinda snuck up on me.”

“And she loves you?”

“She does,” he says. He smiles. “And—it’s nice,” he winces, choosing his words carefully. “We fit. She likes havin’ me around, and the best parts of my day are when she’s around me. It’s just—it’s nice. It’s been good for me. And for her.”

“Well, I’m glad, Ted,” Michelle says, and it’s then that he hears the first hint of emotion in her voice. Whether it’s guilt, or regret, he can’t tell. “You deserve someone who can appreciate you, for you.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking a deep breath. The pain comes back, briefly, the memory of standing in the rain on the edge of Richmond Green next to a waiting cab taking his breath away. But he just breathes through it, like Rebecca taught him to, that night outside the karaoke joint. “It means a lot to hear you say that. I appreciate it, Michelle.”

“I’m happy for you, Ted,” she says, and he can hear she’s fighting to regain control of her emotions as well. “I’ll tell Henry, okay? He’ll be fine with it. He’s adjusted real well to having Dave around.”

“Oh yeah, how’re you two doing?”

Michelle laughs, softly. “It’s going great,” she says, and it hurts, a little bit, to hear the genuine happiness in her voice, “it really is. We’re taking it slow, you know, because of Henry, but I really like him.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that,” Ted says, and he means it.

“Listen—” Michelle says, “say hi to Rebecca for me. I know we really didn’t get off on the right foot. I mean, she is a little intimidating.”

“Yeah, she is,” he says, smiling, “she can be. But, Michelle, she’s a marshmallow on the inside, really. She’s just—she’s had a hard road in life. That ex-husband of hers did a number on her.”

“That’s awful,” Michelle says, genuinely. “I followed a bit of the press coverage on them. He seems like an asshole.”

“Oh, believe me,” Ted says, “you have no idea. But you’ll be happy to know I successfully hustled him at darts a few months back.”

“That’s my Ted,” she says, and he smiles, even if he hasn’t been hers for years, now. “It was really nice to hear from you.”

“It was really nice to talk to you, too, Michelle. You’ll let Henry know? And tell him he can call me or Skype me tonight, or any time he wants, really, if he wants to talk about it. Will you do that?”

“I will, Ted,” Michelle says, and he nods.

“Thanks,” he says, and an idea springs up inside him, as he thinks again of Henry and Rebecca and the baby. “Listen—and you don’t have to make a decision right now—I was hopin’ that maybe Henry could come out for Christmas.”

“Oh, Ted,” she starts, “I don’t know.”

“No, no, just listen—I know it didn’t work out this summer, and that’s fine, but I’m concerned, Michelle. You know I lost my dad when I was young, and—I don’t want him to think that about me. Now, I’m going to be movin’ in with Rebecca in a little while. It’s gettin’ serious, and I want him to come and see what it’s like here. Be a part of my life, you know?”

“Wow,” Michelle says, letting out a long breath. “I didn’t realize, Ted. Congratulations.” He hears her sigh. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Thank you,” he says, relief flooding through him.

“And I’ll talk to him about it, see what he thinks. It’ll be a big change for him.”

“Oh, I know, I know,” he says, “but I think it’ll be good for him, too. Broaden his horizons.”

“Teach him about the world?”

“You know it,” he says, laughing softly.

“Okay, well, I can’t promise anything.”

“I know,” he says. “Thanks, Michelle. It means a lot. I appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate you calling me, too,” she says. “When’s this story supposed to break?”

“Couple hours,” he says, checking his watch.

“Okay,” she says, “I’ll keep my eye out for it.”

“You don’t have to read it.”

“No, I want to,” she says. “If it’s about what a good job you’re doing over there, I want to read it, and I want to tell Henry about it, too.”

“All right,” he says, laughing softly, “if you insist.”

“I better go, Ted,” she says, “I’ve got a long day ahead of me.”

“Okay,” he says, “have a good day at work. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you later. Goodbye, Ted.”

“Bye,” he says, ending the call.

He places his phone down on the desk, shaking his head. It’s the most progress he’s made with Michelle in months. He hadn’t even planned to ask her about Henry coming for Christmas, but when he realized the baby would probably be front-page news by then, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

The door opens and Ted looks up to find Beard giving him an inquiring look.

“Well?”

“You were right,” he says, “went great.”

“Ah, I knew it,” Beard says, pumping his fist.

“Now there’s just this article to deal with,” Ted says. “But, I mean—maybe we’re just making a big deal out of it.”

Ψ

Within a few hours of Crimm posting the article online, Twitter goes insane, rife with speculation about their relationship and even memes for the occasion.  #Tebecca starts trending, and then, later, #getitwanker.

“Am I supposed to be flattered by that?” Rebecca asks Keeley, and she nods.

“Hell yeah,” she says. “It implies that they approve, and probably that some of them would like to ‘get it’, themselves.”

“I see,” Rebecca replies, frowning, slightly flattered, but still mostly bewildered.

It’s a lovely piece, and the accompanying photo does both Rebecca and Ted justice. They’re standing on the pitch, shoulder to shoulder, lit conservatively, with the seats of the stadium stretching out behind them. It’s very tasteful, and taken of anyone else would be rather boring, but there’s a chemistry that’s obvious between the two in the photo, in the way Ted’s shoulder presses against hers and how they’re completely comfortable invading each other’s space, and in the subtle smiles on their faces.

Keeley posts a link to the article in the bio of the club’s Instagram account and the comments in the new post she makes using Trent’s photo, as well as the comment section on The Independent website go wild with speculation, replete with emojis of all colour and flavour: heart-eyes, kissy ones, winky faces and hearts, and of course, the infamous peach and eggplant, as well as many others.

“This is ridiculous,” Rebecca says, later, from the sofa in her office. She’s sitting next to Ted, who’s fidgeting a little, not at all comfortable with this invasion of their personal lives, however effective it may be.

“So what we do?” Ted asks.

“For now? Nothing,” Keeley says, from her perch on the edge of Rebecca’s desk. “You’ve told your mums?” She asks, them, and they both nod.

Ted’s mother was pleased, insisting on talking to Rebecca, which actually hadn’t been terrible. The older Lasso was funny and warm, just like her son, and she and Rebecca managed to have a pleasant conversation.

Rebecca then called her mother after that and told her about her new relationship, and was surprised to find the older Welton almost delighted about her daughter’s news.

Anyone but Rupert, Rebecca supposes.

Keeley shrugs. “There’s nothing to do now. We wait for it to die down. There’s no match this week, so that means no press conference, no reporters allowed in the building. They’ll still be sniffing around, though, so we just need to make sure the boys know to keep mum. We might get a few requests for comment, but we just ignore it, if we do. The response has been positive so far, so I’m thinking—”

“Stage Two?” Ted asks.

“Exactly,” she says, pointing at Ted. “What do you two think about coming out this weekend? Pub? With Roy and me?”

“Hey, have you told Roy about us?” Ted asks.

“Why?” Keeley asks. “You afraid of his reaction?”

“A little,” Ted confirms, nodding his head once.

“I told him this morning,” Keeley says, shrugging. “He wasn’t—happy, but I talked him down.”

“Good,” Ted says, nodding.

“Why are you afraid of him?” Rebecca asks.

“He’s very protective of you,” Keeley says, and Rebecca frowns.

“Really?”

“Well, not just you,” Keeley says. “Phoebe, me, his sister, his mum. All women in his life, really.”

“You haven’t told him about the baby, right?” Ted asks.

“No,” Keeley says, shaking her head. “I’ll wait for a—better day. Butter him up first.”

“He is going to kill me,” Ted says, nodding his head.

“I’m forty-four years old!” Rebecca says, shaking hers. “I can make my own choices, and it—takes two to tango.”

“Doesn’t matter to Roy,” Keeley says. “He can’t help it. I don’t want to think about what it’s going to be like if we end up having a daughter some day.”

Rebecca sighs. “Men,” she says, rolling her eyes. She sighs. “So,” she says, to Ted, nudging him, “pub?”

“You ready for this?” he asks.

She shrugs. “We’ve already told the team, our families.” She shrugs. “The hard part’s done.” Then she points toward her midsection. “Besides—we haven’t got much time until this become obvious, as well.”

Ted shrugs. “Pub it is,” he says to Keeley and she pumps a fist in victory.

HENRY

They shuffle off into Rebecca’s car later that evening, emotionally and physically exhausted after the day they’ve had, the online speculation and about their relationship continuing to be strange and uncomfortable, even if Keeley has kindly kept them oblivious to most of it.

Even if he is occasionally tempted to check out the hubbub on Twitter and Instagram, he abstains. He’s confident Keeley can handle it, and he’s never really had the stomach to read the things people say about him or those he cares about.

The car has just left the carpark when Ted’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he takes it out as Rebecca leans against him, letting out a tired sigh.

I talked to Henry, the text from Michelle says. He’s a little confused but he’ll be okay. Can he Skype you tonight?

He sure can, Ted texts back, sighing. Send me a text when he wants to talk. We’re just headed home now.

It’s late! Michelle says. Burning the midnight oil?

Long day, Ted replies. The response was a little overwhelming.

It’s a good article, Ted, Michelle responds, and he smiles. You’re doing good work out there. Henry and I are proud of you.

Ted texts a thanks and pockets his phone.

“Michelle?” Rebecca asks, tiredly, from his shoulder.

“Yep,” Ted says. He sighs. “Gonna talk to Henry later tonight.”

She lifts her head and he turns to see her eyes searching his face. “You worried?” she asks, and he shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “He’ll understand. Michelle’s been seeing Dave since the summer, and he’s adjusted to that well. It’s just—it’s probably harder for him to understand, since he’s so far away from us.”

“He’ll understand,” she says, and he turns to smile at her, giving her a soft kiss along her hairline.

A few hours later, Rebecca is asleep, and Ted sits on the sofa, laptop on his legs.

“Hey, Dad!” says the boy who suddenly appears on screen.

“Hey, buddy,” Ted says, suddenly emotional, and he doesn’t know if it’s the day they’ve had, or the fact that he hasn’t seen his son’s face since he and Rebecca found out about the baby (it’s probably both), but he has to take a deep, level breath to keep the tears at bay. “How was school?”

“It was good,” Henry says. “Just finished my homework!”

“That’s great,” Ted says, smiling. “How’s everything been going, lately? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“It’s been fine,” Henry says. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Ted says, and he can’t keep his voice from wavering.

“Are you okay?” Henry asks.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Ted says, surreptitiously wiping at a tear. “Just miss you is all.”

“Mom said you have a girlfriend,” Henry says, looking down at his hands. “The lady with the blonde hair that we met at the stadium.”

“That’s right,” Ted says, his heartrate spiking a bit, “her name’s Rebecca.”

“Is she going to be your girlfriend the way Dave is mom’s boyfriend?”

Ted smiles. “Yeah, bud. Yeah, she is. I’m—I’m actually going to be moving in with her.”

“Mom says that Dave’s going to move in here some day,” Henry says, and Ted tries very hard to hide his surprise. Although he supposes he shouldn’t be entirely surprised after hearing how happy Michelle sounded on the phone earlier.

“Is that right?” Ted asks, forcing a smile on his face. “Is that something you’d like?”

“I guess,” Henry says. He sighs a little sigh, picking up a piece of Lego off the table and starting to play with it. “I like Dave. But I miss you.”

Ted sighs, closing his eyes tightly to keep the tears at bay. “I know you do, bud. And I miss you more than you will ever know, okay? And I’m sorry that things can’t be like they used to be. Mom and I have been talking, and we’re going to see what we can do about you and me hangin’ out, okay?”

Henry nods, not looking up. “Okay,” he says, quietly.

“Now I know things are changin’,” Ted says. “I know Mom and Dad are datin’ new people and it’s confusing, but it doesn’t mean we love you any less. If anything, there’s more love to go ‘round. You like Dave, right? You have a lotta fun with him, your mom says. Playin’ catch and stuff?”

The boy nods, giving Ted a little smile.

“Well, Rebecca is excited to meet you, too.”

“Is she?” he asks, brightening a little.

“Heck, yeah,” Ted says, smiling. “She’s sleepin’ right now, but I know you’re gonna like her. She’s—she’s a very lovely lady and she’s looking forward to seeing you very much, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry says, smiling. “Do you love her? Mom says she loves Dave.”

“I do love her,” he says. “Like Mom loves Dave. Rebecca and I, we get along real well, and I’m real glad I met her.”

“Are you going to marry her?” the boy asks, and Ted winces. It’s not something they’ve discussed, but he knows that even with the baby coming, it’s something Rebecca doesn’t want to jump back into any time soon. And if Ted is being honest with himself, he’s not ready to take the plunge, either. There’s still way too much trauma associated with both their marriages, way too much stuff to work through before he makes someone else his wife.

“Maybe,” Ted says. “Some day. But for now, she’s my partner. That make sense?”

Henry nods. “Yeah. My friend Felix’s mom has a partner. He says they’re not going to get married.”

Ted nods, smiling. “Well, you know, it doesn’t mean that they love each other any less than married people do, it’s just a different way of makin’ a commitment.”

“I know,” Henry says.

“Okay, buddy,” Ted says. “Look, I know this is hard. I didn’t think this job of mine would end up lastin’ this long.” He laughs, shrugging. “I didn’t know I’d meet someone that I ended up fallin’ in love with. It’s just the way things happen. You know, parents—they’re just humans, like kids. We don’t always plan things, or know what’s gonna come next. But—just know that I love you, okay? And so does Mom, and so does Dave and so does Rebecca.”

“But she doesn’t even know me!” Henry says, laughing.

“Doesn’t matter. She met you once, and that was all she needed to fall for you, bud. You’re just that great of a guy. Now—keep your chin up, okay? I want you to call me whenever, wherever you are, whenever you need to, okay? I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night here, I’ll still answer. And Mom and I are workin’ out when I’m gonna see you next. And I promise I will find a way, okay? Soon. No matter what it takes.” He smiles as Henry nods. “Okay, bud?”

“Okay, Dad,” Henry says, smiling, “I know you will.”

Ted ends their session a few minutes later, closes his laptop, and then dissolves into tears. The guilt claws at him, pressing on his chest, the emotional rollercoaster of a day they’ve had finally taking its toll. He hates this, he really does, this helplessness. He misses having his son around him, misses talking to him every day, helping him with his homework and his school projects, throwing the ball around with him in the yard.

But this is the choice Ted’s made. He’s making a difference here in Richmond. He’s turning this club around, making progress on the pitch as well as the locker room. And he’s making a difference with Rebecca, too, and she with him, the two of them helping each other to be the best they can be.

And there’s a new responsibility on its way. A new life that they’ve created, one who’ll need him just as much as Henry does.

He can’t leave. As much as he wants to see his son, he’s got a life here now. And it’s gonna hurt, to give up some of that responsibility to Dave, to have the man living in his house, sleeping in his old bed. But if Ted can’t be there, he knows somebody else has to fill that role, at least while Henry’s stateside.

Everything’s gonna be okay, he tells himself, wiping his eyes. He doesn’t want to wake Rebecca, doesn’t want to burden her with this guilt and pain. Her pregnancy is progressing well, and she and the baby are healthy, and for that he’s very thankful. And he wants to keep it that way.

Ted sighs, nodding to himself. They can do this. It’s not the way he thought his life would go. But his son has two parents, two stepparents, a house and food, and friends and school. He’s got love and a little brother or sister on the way. He’ll be fine, in the end. They just need to weather this storm together.

He reminds himself that the future is bright, that he’s found a love that lifts him up instead of bringing him down. A person that is making his life better.

The side of his mouth twitches up as he thinks of Rebecca, and he sighs, placing his laptop on the coffee table and heading off to bed.

“Did you talk to him?” Rebecca mumbles sleepily, not even opening her eyes, when he slips into bed beside her.

“I did,” he says, his arm snaking around her middle, “he’s good.” He kisses her on the cheek, and she nods sleepily. “I love you,” he says, and she nods. He smiles as her breaths even out, already asleep again.

His hand palms her belly like he always does, that area beneath her navel that is becoming firmer and firmer by the day, and he smiles, nodding.

He closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

(“And then what's next?” Rebecca asks.

“And then Stage Two, which, as you both know, is going to be social media-focused, almost exclusively in the beginning. You know, using the personal Instagram accounts of players and their girlfriends, of me and Roy. Just little hints here and there. Pictures that show you sitting together, talking to each other, etc. And then the comments will start again: ‘Wow, are they actually together?’ ‘Hey, they’re mad fit, they fucking?’ ‘I wish they were my parents.’ You know,” Keeley says, waving her hand at them like they’re not technically old enough to be her parents. Rebecca gives Ted a look and he just shrugs.

“And after that, we’ll get a few more pieces written on you two. Rags and blogs and maybe even the respectable publications, as well.” She shrugs a shoulder. “And we’ll start to get media inquiries, asking for a statement, asking questions during regular press conferences. And it’s going to be hard to ignore, but we just do exactly that. And I’m just going to let you two do whatever you want. Walk home together, go to the Sainsbury’s, go see a film. You know, a chaste kiss on the cheek here and there. It won’t be long before you two get papped. Christ, Roy and I are still chasing the paparazzi off and he’s been retired for like, six months! So then—”)

Keeley is right. The hype does die down, but it takes three days, a social media frenzy, and an issue of The Sun with the headline “LASSOED IN LOVE? Richmond Manager Sparks Rumours of Love Affair with Club Owner in Latest Interview” with a photo of the two of them on the front of the paper, which was taken by Rebecca’s photographer at the gala earlier in the year.

It’s a nice picture, and one neither Rebecca nor Ted has actually seen before. But the closeness of the two of them in the photo, Ted’s hand around her waist and the jubilant smiles on their faces certainly do a very good job of furthering the rumour the paper is trying to spread.

The local paparazzo also camps out outside Rebecca’s house Wednesday night, which necessitates Rebecca having to drop and pick up Ted at the end of the block so he can sneak in the rear entrance, but after two days of taking photos of Rebecca entering and exiting her car alone, the man buggers off.

They try their very hardest to ignore the hubbub. Now that Beard is in on their little secret, Ted takes it upon himself Friday night to pack the few things he actually owns into his suitcase, and say goodbye to the little furnished flat in Paved Court.

“Now that everyone knows, what are we waitin’ for?” Ted asked her, earlier that day. “I don’t wanna spend another night without you and the baby.”

She kissed him, right there in her office, and smiled when she realised the door was open, and she didn’t really have to care who walked in.

Her driver helps him with his suitcase, and she takes the small box filled with knickknacks and little yellow ‘BELIEVE’ signs, and places it on the seat between them.

“Well?” he asks, joining her in the back seat, his cheeks pink from the cold after helping load up the boot with his things.

“Well, what?” she asks.

“You ready to give up a bunch of your space to a rowdy midwestern night owl with a tendency to leave open jars of peanut butter lying around?”

“Don’t forget the pasta water,” she says, smirking at him.

He laughs, genuinely.

“You’ve essentially been living with me for the past two weeks, anyway,” she says, shrugging. Then she softens. “And I feel the same way as you. We’re a family now, Ted. We shouldn’t be living apart.”

He smiles, leaning over the box between them to kiss her softly.

“Last to chance to back out,” he says when he pulls away. She just rolls her eyes, tapping on the partition, and the car starts moving.

She supposes moving Ted into her home in Twickenham should be giving her pause. The house she lives in now was actually her and Rupert’s second home, which they’d only just purchased when his affairs came to light. They never got the opportunity to move in, instead spending their time at their place in Notting Hill, where she assumes Rupert lives now.

There are very few memories in this house with her former husband. This is the only reason she decided to keep it after having it awarded to her in the divorce. It was the place where she planned to make a life for herself, to recover and get some peace. To find out who she really was.

Which is why she supposes that she finds it very easy to find space in the closet for Ted, to help him hang up the alarmingly large number of track suits and khakis and jumpers he owns. She’s made space in the drawers for his pants and socks and pajamas, and the few toiletries he has fit very easily into her spacious ensuite bathroom.

“That’s really all you have?” she asks him, when his suitcase is empty.

Ted shrugs, “I don’t really need that all much,” he says. “I’m a bit of a minimalist, I guess.”

She smiles, and they tidy up, starting to get ready for bed like they do every night. But the giddy grins they give each other as they change into their pajamas and brush their teeth, and the easy way that Ted moves around, now obviously more comfortable having his own things here, tell her that this is different than any other time.

It’s not just Ted staying the night, only to be shuffled off in secrecy to Paved Court in the morning after a rushed breakfast. It’s their house now. He’ll be here when she gets home, when she wakes up. They’ll be able to walk down to the supermarket together to pick up ingredients and make meals together, neither having to worry about him getting back to his flat, or of being seen together.

When Ted cuddles up behind her, his heat enveloping her in the darkness of her bedroom, she smiles. It is different now. And it’s more than just those little things they can do together that she’s excited about.

It’s her, him, and this baby, now. In the house where they’re going to raise their child, the house she hopes they’re going to live in for the rest of their lives. As a family, something she never thought that she’d ever have.

She falls asleep smiling for the first time in years.

The next morning, as they clean up after breakfast, her phone rings, and she picks it up, surprised to see her doctor’s number on the call display. Her stomach immediately clenches as she answers.

“We’ve got the results,” her doctor says, after their greetings, “of the NIPT test. And they’re good, Rebecca.”

Relief floods through her as Ted approaches her, concern in his eyes, and she gives him a smile.

“Is that so?” she asks, as Ted mouths words at her, wondering what’s going on. She holds up a finger, needing to take this call herself.

“It is so. They managed to get the baby’s whole genome, and they’re quite confident that there are only 23 pairs of homologous chromosomes. No evidence of trisomy 13, 18, or 21.”

“Which means?” she asks, looking up at Ted.

“It means your baby is perfectly normal, genetically. There is a very, very small chance that something was missed, but it’s less than one percent. Much less. I’m confident to say that this, combined with all the other results, means that the baby’s out of the woods now for any sort of chromosomal abnormality. We’ll do the anatomy scan at 20 weeks to see how baby’s developing, but for now—rest easy.”

“Oh that’s—” Rebecca starts, shaking her head. She wipes at the tears that are suddenly falling. At Ted’s inquiring look she smiles, and gives him a nod, and he relaxes a little. “That’s fantastic to hear. Thank you so much for calling me.”

“Not a problem. As I said, baby’s good, which reduces the risk of miscarriage even more. So, take care of yourself, Rebecca. Eat well, get some regular exercise and try to keep your stress levels down, and you’ll be holding your baby in six months.”

Rebecca nods, smiling, watching as Ted patiently waits for her to end the call.

“That’s what we’re all hoping,” she says.

“Oh, and—I almost forgot. The test told us something else—”

When Rebecca hangs up the phone and sets it on the kitchen island, Ted is still beside her. But before he can open his mouth to inquire about the call, she’s in his arms, sobbing.

“Good news?” Ted asks, hopefully, but she can hear the apprehension in his voice.

She nods into his shoulder, holding him tighter as she cries quietly.

“Oh,” she moans, after a few seconds, pulling away a little to wipe at her tears, “I’m so sorry, I was so worried. I didn’t realise how much.” She looks up into Ted’s eyes, which are watching her, searching her face. “The baby’s perfectly normal, Ted,” she says, smiling, and she barely gets a chance to finish her sentence before his lips are on hers, his hands cradling her face.

When he pulls away, his eyes are red and wet and the smile on his face is wide and joyous.

“Everything’s good?” he asks, and she nods.

“23 chromosomes, Ted. She’s perfect.”

“She?” Ted asks, surprise in his dark eyes. “Wait—the test tell you that, too?”

She nods, slowly at first, then quicker, and Ted whoops, literally whoops, in their kitchen, gathering her up in his arms.

“We’re havin’ a daughter!” he says, and she just laughs wetly, her mind filled with those same images she saw weeks earlier when they’d taken the test. A blonde toddler in Ted’s arms, Ted and Henry playing with her in the living room. Taking her to Nelson Road and letting her run about on the pitch.

“I thought you had no preference,” she says, smiling crookedly at him.

“Well, maybe I lied a bit, babe,” he says, giving her a wink. “I dunno. I guess I’m just realisin’ now that it’s what I wanted.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t’ve minded another boy, though.”

She nods, smiling. The weight that was sitting in the pit of her stomach for the past two weeks has finally lifted. The baby is healthy and normal. Now, she needs to take care of herself, pace herself. Keeley’s plan is switching into high gear, and they’ll need to endure a few more public intrusions into their lives. But things are coming together.

“You ready for tonight?” he asks. They’re meeting Keeley there at six, and Roy’s going to join them soon after.

She nods, sighing. “I’m ready.”

Ψ

“I knew it!” Keeley squeals, later that night, when Rebecca tells her the baby’s sex. “I should have put some money on it.”

“I’m starting to learn I shouldn’t bet against you, darling,” Rebecca tells her, and Keeley gives her a wink, taking a sip of her beer.

“So, wait, you guys are just going to tell everyone? No pink confetti flying out of a cannon or anything like that?”

“Oh, please,” Rebecca says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need a party to tell my friends that the baby’s a girl.”

“Yeah,” Ted says, “besides, Keeley, gender reveal parties only reinforce gender stereotypes, you know, make everyone buy you a bunch of pink stuff that she’s gonna to be forced to wear. I want my little girl to be able to make a choice.”

Rebecca smiles. It’s the first time he’s referred to their child as such and she can’t help but be utterly delighted by it.

“Okay, then,” Keeley says, nodding in solidarity with Ted. “I agree completely. But—I am going to have to throw you a baby shower.”

“Keeley—” Rebecca starts.

“No, I’m going to do it, Rebecca, you can’t convince me otherwise. And just be happy that I’m actually telling you about it, and it’s only because I know how you hate surprises.”

“Keeley, I have a lot of money, enough to buy all the things this baby needs. We don’t need people buying gifts for us. It’s so—tacky.”

“But it could be fun,” Ted says, and she turns to look at him. Of course Ted Lasso would love baby showers, she thinks.

“Yeah,” Keeley says. “We’ll have games, and they’ll all be football-themed. And don’t worry about the gifts, Rebecca. I’ll put a limit on the price. They can be fun little things, you know. Knickknacks. Handmade things. Personalised gifts. It’s just how some people show their love. And, you’re not going to be able to avoid it, anyway. Once you announce it, you’re going to have 25 guys with million-dollar and six-figure salaries acting like protective big brothers to this baby. You’re going to get gifts no matter what.”

Rebecca smiles, leaning against Ted’s shoulder. “Okay, then,” she says. “But—I want to help plan it. No surprises.”

“Only Rebecca Welton would want to help plan her own baby shower,” Keeley says with no lack of affection, taking a swig of her drink.

“Aw, she just likes to plan,” Ted says fondly, leaning his head against hers. Mae walks by and gives them the same knowing smile she gave them back in August.

“Can I get you another lager, Ted?” Mae asks, taking his empty glass. “And another diet cola, Rebecca?” she asks, giving her a wink, and Rebecca wonders if the older woman can just tell, somehow. Then again, Rebecca supposes this is probably the first time she’s ever ordered a non-alcoholic drink in Mae’s pub, and she’s sure she’s seen her share of pregnant woman over the years trying to hide their conditions.

“Sure,” Ted and Rebecca say at the same time, and Mae smiles indulgently as she clears Rebecca’s glass, too.

When Keeley asked them where they were going earlier that day, there really had only been one choice. The Crown and Anchor was where their relationship began, all those months ago, where Ted had beaten Rupert in darts and saved her from having to see him week after week. It was where Ted had taken the team when they’d needed to make a plan to exorcise the ghosts, and where he’d had finally learned the off-side rule after another patient instruction from Beard with the ketchup and vinegar.

“What a week,” Rebecca says, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Sure was,” Ted says, his eyes going wide as he shakes his head. “But, you know, it went better than I thought it would.”

“I agree,” Keeley says, nodding. “But it was a lot. I think we might have to renegotiate our contract, Rebecca.”

“Anything you want, darling,” Rebecca says, as Mae comes back with a diet cola and a lager, and she and Ted accept their drinks with a smile.

“Really? Cool!” She laughs. “I was just joking, but—”

“After what you did for us this week?” Rebecca asks. “Like I said—name your price.”

Keeley’s eyes sparkle a little. “Wow.”

“So, when’s Roy getting here?” Ted asks, taking a swig of his beer. He and Rebecca almost got into an argument earlier when Ted pledged not to drink in solidarity with her. After an intense discussion, she finally managed to convince him to enjoy himself, even if she did find it a bit sweet in principle.

“He’ll be a few minutes,” Keeley says, beer in hand as she checks her phone. “Just texted me.” She puts her phone down and looks up at Ted. “Oh, and, Ted,” she says, her tone changing.

“What?” he asks, eyes suddenly huge.

“I told him. Roy. About the baby,” she says, glancing at Rebecca. “I had to. He was asking all sorts of questions. I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Rebecca says, nodding.

“Wait,” Ted says, “wait—how did he react?”

“Well—" Keeley says, but then a dark shadow appears behind Ted, and Rebecca looks up to see that Roy has arrived, and a has placed a hand on Ted’s shoulder.

“Rebecca,” Roy says, softly, so that only their booth can hear. “Congratulations on the baby.”

“Thank you, Roy,” she says, giving him a genuine smile.

“Ted, could I talk to you for a moment?” Roy Kent asks, his tone level but deadly. “Outside?”

“Oh, Roy, leave ‘im alone,” Keeley says, long-sufferingly, as if they’ve been having this argument all day.

“Ted?” Roy asks again, ignoring Keeley.

“Yup,” Ted says, getting up. Rebecca winces as Roy watches Ted pass by him, his eyes narrowed.

“Roy,” Rebecca says, once Ted is out of earshot, heading for the front door. “Do go easy on him. Please? He’s been so supportive and just—wonderful. Really, he has.”

“Duly noted,” Roy says, giving her a quick smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“Yikes,” Keeley says, as she watches them go. “Do you think he’ll mellow by the time he and I have kids?”

Rebecca just laughs, taking a sip of her drink.

Ψ

“Look, Roy—” Ted says, as soon as they get outside. The cold, wet November air cools his hot cheeks, and he takes in a deep breath of it, trying to calm himself.

“I’m not going to kill you, you idiot,” Roy says, once they’re out of earshot of the other patrons, his tone softening. “But—just—listen. I was there when Rebecca and Rupert were married, and he was a fucking—twat.”

“Oh, I know,” Ted says, nodding.

“Okay,” Roy says. “Good. But he would say the worst things to her, right out in the open. Make fun of her when she wasn’t there.” Roy sighs. “From what I heard, he’d been holding having kids over her head for years, like a fucking—sociopath.”

“Look, Roy,” Ted says, “Imma stop you right there, okay? I know all this, and I’ve been very, very careful with her, and patient. We’ve talked about it. And you know, it took a while to get past those walls she puts up, but she’s healin’. She is. She’s so, so happy about this baby girl she’s havin’—”

“Baby’s a girl?” Roy asks, frowning.

Ted nods.

“Damn,” Roy says.

“Another little woman you’re going to have to be protective of?” Ted says, nodding sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Roy pouts.

“Look, Roy,” Ted says. “I appreciate all of this support. I love that Rebecca has so many people that are willin’ to murder me if I do her wrong. It’s beautiful. But you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I’m—happier than I’ve ever been. Rebecca and I are livin’ together. We’re havin’ a baby. I talked to Michelle about letting Henry come out for Christmas, and she’s thinkin’ about it, which is huge. So, life is goin’ good. And I get it. I’ve—had some struggles, too. But we’re helpin’ each other. We’re startin’ to feel like ourselves again.”

Roy nods, begrudgingly. “That’s great, Ted,” he says, though his tone suggests otherwise. “But you still are the manager of a football club who got the owner of said football club pregnant, what, eight months after her very public divorce, leaving her vulnerable to any number of intrusions by the press. You put the team at risk! You put your jobs at risk!”

Ted just nods, not able to make eye contact with Roy at the moment. “I know,” he says. “And for that I take full responsibility. I played the odds, Roy. And I lost. The house always wins, I guess. And as Dr. Ian Malcolm says, you know, ‘life finds a way’.”

Roy smiles at that, nodding. “Well, as long as we’re clear, then.”

“Clear as Swarovski crystal, Roy,” Ted says, giving him a wink.

“All right,” he says, extending a hand to Ted, who takes it gingerly, almost expecting it to bite him. He then gives Roy’s hand a firm shake. “Congratulations, Ted,” Roy says, sincerely, “you lucky fuck.”

Ted laughs, genuinely.

“I am that, Roy,” he says. “I am that.”

Ψ

After burying the hatchet, they all take to chatting about the week, about the team, about the baby, about Keeley’s thoughts on how they’re faring in the press and how things will go in the future.

“Only one way to find out,” Keeley says, picking up her phone and grabbing a quick pic of Ted and Rebecca, who’re sitting close across from her in the booth, their shoulders touching. Ted’s head is turned toward her, his dark eyes watching her.

It’s a lovely picture, and not particularly incriminating, as it could easily be played off as two mates out for a drink in a pub, but the affection in Ted’s eyes is unmistakable.

“Let’s see,” Rebecca says, and Keeley shows them.

“Wow,” Ted says, shaking his head. He’s a few pints in and his cheeks are a little pink, and the volume of his voice has increased substantially. “Is that how I look at Rebecca?”

“Only for the last—eight or so months,” Roy says, shaking his head derisively.

“Well why didn’t anyone say anything?” he asks, looking from Roy to Keeley, and then at Rebecca.

“We figured you’d figure it out on your own,” Keeley says. “And you did. Sooner than I thought you would.”

Rebecca just laughs, her cheeks flushing as Mae arrives with their food.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Rebecca says, as the older woman places the shepherd’s pie in front of her.

“Hungry, are you?” Mae asks, winking. “I was like that when I was pregnant with my first. Gained four stone with that one.”

Rebecca just smiles incredulously, while Ted, Roy and Keeley look at Mae in shock. “That’s exactly where I’m at right now,” Rebecca says, picking up her fork, “ravenous. All the time.”

“Well, congratulations, you two,” she says, tapping Ted on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see you happy, Rebecca.” She leans in, her voice dropping. “And you didn’t hear this from me, but Rupert is an absolute twat. But business is business, if you get what I mean.” She gives them a wink and disappears into the throng of people.

“How the hell did she know?” Keeley asks, the second Mae’s out of earshot.

“I dunno,” Ted says. “I think she might be a witch or something. But a good witch, y’know. Like Glinda.”

“She is very wise,” Keeley says, nodding. She looks down at her phone again, typing a few things in, and places it down on the table. “Well, that’s done.”

“You posted it?” Rebecca says, mouth full of food.

“Shit yeah,” she says, picking up the ketchup to pour over her chips, “you two are adorable. Now—eat your food, all of you. I’ve set my phone to do not disturb, and we’ll check it later. For now, let’s enjoy ourselves, yeah?”

By the time they say goodbye to Roy and Keeley, and are walking arm-in-arm along Richmond Green, they get a text that their post (with the caption ‘Out with my favourite gaffer and manager #Tebecca #AFCRichmond #TedLasso #RebeccaWelton’) has gotten thousands of likes, and that there is plenty of speculation in the comments again.

“Sounds like things are movin’ along,” Ted says.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding, huddling closer to Ted, wrapping her arm around his chest. “But I’m okay with it. I just—I just want life to be normal again, Ted.”

“Yeah,” he says, draping his right arm around her shoulders. “Hey—I totally forgot to tell you, because of everything, but Michelle talked to Henry about comin’ out, you know, for Christmas.”

“Did she?” Rebecca asks, her heart leaping. She doesn’t know if it’s the hormones intensifying her maternal instinct, but she’s become just as focussed as Ted on getting Henry to Richmond, on forging a relationship with him and introducing him to his little sister, as she’ll be proper pregnant by the time Christmas rolls around.

“Yeah,” he says. “She still says she can’t promise anythin’ but he’s into it. He had a lot of fun the first time, but, you know, it’ll be the first time he’s spent Christmas away from Kansas City.”

Rebecca nods. “But we’ll do everything we can to make him feel at home.”

“I know you will, babe,” Ted says, smiling, giving her temple a kiss. “I told her that.” He shrugs. “We’ll just have to see what she decides.”

Rebecca smiles, nodding. It’s then that they catch sight of the pub again, and realise they’ve circled around the green.

“Oi, wanker!” shouts a voice from the forecourt, and they both look up to see Baz, flanked by Paul and Jeremy, standing outside the pub, all three very clearly having taken advantage of Mae’s regulars’ discount.

“Yeah?” Ted asks, his arm tightening around her shoulders. Baz takes that in, smirking as he glances at Rebecca’s arm still draped across his midsection.

“Good work!” he says, giving Ted a wink.

Ted smiles, and Rebecca can’t help but do the same.

“Thanks, Baz,” Ted says. “Y’all have a good night, now.” He gives them a little wave, Paul waves back genially, and they make their way to Rebecca’s waiting car.

Ψ

The mild pandemonium over Keeley’s photo dies down over the weekend, although the local paparazzo makes another appearance at the front of Rebecca’s house for a day. But with no match to prepare for or to recover from, they spend the rest of their weekend indoors, Rebecca relaxing, watching telly and working on some paperwork she neglected during the week while Ted bakes almost compulsively, happy to have their full, spacious kitchen to himself.

And with the whole team and staff in the know over their relationship, Rebecca finds herself actually relaxing a little at work, too, as the week begins. Ted still insists on walking to the stadium with Beard in the morning, a tradition he may have to abandon in the winter months, with the rain and snow and cold making it miserable, but for now she has no problem taking a slight detour to drop him at Beard’s flat and then meeting him in her office later when he brings her her biscuits.

It’s not as if they are particularly physically demonstrative with their affection in the workplace, anyway, but it is a load off her mind to know that a simple hug or kiss on the cheek won’t be misconstrued, won’t spread rumours through the stadium like wildfire and end up on the front cover of one of the rags.

And the players and coaching staff let her and Ted be, for the most part, with knowing glances and winks the worst they dole out, respecting their gaffer and manager’s privacy, at least for the time being.

Rebecca hits fifteen weeks in fine form, the weight gain she’d been experiencing seeming to plateau at least for the time being. But that still means that none of her skirts nor slacks fit her, and she’s fairly certain everyone has noticed her wearing the few dresses that actually fit her in rotation, over the past few weeks.

Keeley pledges to take her maternity shopping, but Rebecca demurs, instead taking a few of the offending garments to her tailor to have them altered, and have an elastic waist put in, which she hopes will get her through the next few weeks.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later, darling,” she tells Keeley’s disappointed face. “I’ve still got a lot of growing to do.”

“Oh my god,” Keeley says, giving her a dazzling grin. “You’re going to look so cute with a baby bump, Rebecca.”

Rebecca smiles at her friend, even if the thought of herself being recognisably pregnant is a strange and ephemeral concept. Having her daughter growing inside of her without the knowledge of most of the world has been a comfort to her, a little secret that gets her through the day and keeps her company.

But she has to admit that she’s held off on becoming particularly attached to the baby. While she has of course been committed to keeping herself and the little one healthy, to eating well and getting enough exercise and abstaining from drinking and smoking and other harmful things, Rebecca has persistently kept herself from becoming overly attached to the child itself, lest the tests show an abnormality that is incompatible with life, or the pregnancy decides to just randomly end one day.

But now that that possibility is miniscule, and they know without a doubt that the baby is female and healthy, she finds herself helpless to begin to bond with her. She finds herself touching and tapping the area below her bellybutton numerous times a day, sometimes pressing against it to feel the firmness of her womb pushing out from within.

She even starts talking to her, hesitantly, from time to time, asking her opinion on any number of work-related decisions, apologising to her when she forgets to eat, or stays at work too long.

At the press conference before their match with Barnsley, the first since Trent’s article and Keeley’s Instagram post, it’s Trent himself who asks the questions on everyone’s lips, a wry smile on his face as he looks as Ted.

“Coach Lasso, do you have any comment on the rumours of a romantic relationship between yourself and Ms. Welton?”

The room goes quiet, most of the journos present shocked that Crimm would deign to delve so far into the personal lives of two people currently in the room with him. But Ted just smiles at Trent, the respect that has unexpectedly grown between the two of them clear as they stare each other down.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to that question, Trent,” Ted says, with a wink, “but I can talk to you about how our club matches up against Barnsley, if you’d like to hear about that?”

Trent nods, still smirking, as Ted extols on his team’s strengths.

By Wednesday, the Instagram post from the weekend is old news, so Keeley enlists Isaac to get a photo of Rebecca and Ted while they sit watching training one unexpectedly sunny day, Ted giving her an update on the progress of the team.

As Isaac approaches the refreshments table Will set up in front of them, neither realises that he has his phone on him until it’s too late, and the candid photo he captures of them as they sit in the front row of seats talking closely with their eyes on the pitch, invading each other’s space with their heads turned toward each other, stirs up just as much discourse as Keeley’s did when he posts it to his Instagram.

It’s become rather clear that the under-40 crowd is besotted with Ted and Rebecca, which they both find a tad disconcerting, considering a lot of them are young enough to be their children. But it’s also encouraging, as young people attend football matches, too, and Rebecca is hoping that the drama over their relationship might be enough to get their bums in the seats.

At the match on Saturday, Keeley gets a few more players to post some pics. Ted and Rebecca chatting in the locker room in Wycombe before the match, Ted and Rebecca at the pub after they manage to win said match.

The way the players do it, interspersing the photos with the usual ones they post of each other, of their dogs and girlfriends and cars, is effortless, and Keeley assures them that to outside observers these photos don’t seem suspect at all, instead merely those of players who respect and admire their owner and gaffer and want the whole world to see it.

Either way, followers continue to respond positively to the photos, with them getting thousands of likes and hundreds of comments. And it would seem that the rest of England has started to notice, as well, as Rebecca receives a text from Flo with a screencap of the latest pic, accompanied by a heart-eyes emoji. She also gets a phone call from her mother, who somehow saw one of the pictures on the internet.

“You look so happy, darling,” her mother tells her, and Rebecca can’t help the emotion that rises up in her in spite of herself.

“Thanks, Mum,” she says. “Ted is—well, I’m excited for you to meet him.”

“That’s a change,” Anne Welton says, and Rebecca laughs.

“Well, Ted is quite the change. From Rupert, I mean. He’s—he’s a lovely man, Mum, and I know I should have waited. Come to terms with everything that happened to me, but—”

“When it’s right,” her mother says, and Rebecca smiles. It was something her father used to say when describing his marriage to Anne, something Rebecca took to heart after his death.

She holds off on telling her mother about the pregnancy for the time being. Anne’s in her early seventies now and her health has been good, but Rebecca is still wary of letting the news out. She knows that with every week that passes, the chances of her mother meeting her first and probably only grandchild grow higher and higher, and she couldn’t bear to have to tell her mother the bad news if something happened.

So, with the positive response from the online community, and the media beginning to take notice, Keeley gives them the go-ahead to flaunt their couplehood to the rest of Richmond.

Rebecca’s sixteenth week of pregnancy begins the next day, as does the month of December, and it’s fortuitous, then, that even while four months gone and having gained another half stone, her height has afforded her the advantage of not looking particularly pregnant at all. She’s barely showing, with her overall abdomen only slightly distended above the little swelling beneath her navel, as if she’s just eaten a big meal, and she’s successfully able to hide it all beneath her clothing.

So after another photo post by Colin goes viral, when he caught them standing on the sidelines of the pitch one day during training, Ted’s arm around her waist as they discussed the health of Dani Rojas’s ankle, they’re unsurprisingly caught leaving Sainsbury’s together that same night, both of their arms full of groceries, smiling at each other as they head toward Rebecca’s waiting car.

“#TEBECCA Richmond FC Owner and Gaffer Seem to Confirm Rumoured Relationship” is the headline on the front cover of The Sun the next day, and they spy the paparazzo again at Rebecca’s front door as they arrive home.

“Don’t bother hiding anything,” Keeley says, as Rebecca calls her from the car. “Even the rags seem to like you two together.”

So, they get out of the car, ignoring the man photographing them as Ted helps her with her bag, then exit the car and enter the house.

Unsurprisingly, those photos end up on the front cover of The Sun the next day with the headline “LOVE SHACK? Lasso and Welton Spotted Arriving Home Together” Keeley asks to meet with them in Rebecca’s office.

“Well?” Rebecca asks her. “How are we doing?”

“Flawlessly,” Keeley says, smiling. “Things are moving along. Whether it’s the fact that everyone’s realising they all hated Rupert, or they really just are quite charmed by you two, I’m really encouraged by the response.”

“That’s great,” Ted says, a copy of the newspaper in his hands, “although I gotta say, Keeley, I’m not pumped about havin’ Rebecca back on the cover of this paper.”

“It’s fine, darling,” she says to Ted, giving him an encouraging smile. As much as she does hate it, the trashy-yet-fun speculative articles on her and Ted are miles away from the negative and pejorative tone the paper took with her when Rupert’s affairs came to light, and then when she had the gall to divorce him.

“You sure?” he asks, frowning with concern. She gives his forearm a squeeze, always surprised and touched by how much he cares.

“Honestly, Ted,” she says, “it doesn’t bother me. If it means we can have a normal life in a few months, I’m fine with it.”

“Okay, then,” Keeley says, watching their affectionate conversation with delight. “I think you guys know what that means.”

“Stage Three?” Ted asks, pointing at her.

“Stage Three,” Keeley confirms.