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Of all the unlikely things Rebecca's found herself doing since Ted Lasso entered her life, voluntarily having drinks with the Milk sisters is certainly among the strangest. Odder yet, it's a meeting she herself has requested; rather than hoping they'll ring and cancel at the last moment, she's holding her breath, waiting for them to arrive.
Least expected and yet least uncomfortable of all is Ted's presence beside her. His usual energy has been damped down through a combination of threats and cajoling; now he's solid and reassuring, a bulwark between her and the rest of the pub.
"What's the time?" she mutters, unwilling to look at her watch for fear she'll be caught checking.
"It just hit six-thirty. Don't worry, they aren't out of date yet," he says soothingly. A grin escapes his control and he snort-laughs at his pun. Rebecca rolls her eyes but feels, annoyingly, bolstered.
"Oh, hey, I bet that's them, isn't it?" Ted says a beat later, and Rebecca snaps her head up to see, yes, both sisters just heading to the bar. Their dandelion puffs of white hair are instantly visible in the crowd, even though they're barely shoulder-height to most of the regulars. Rebecca raises a hand, signalling both to the sisters and to Mae, who'll put their drinks on Rebecca’s card.
Beside her, Ted says, very quietly, "I recognised them by their creamy complexions," but the sisters are making their way over and Rebecca's too nervous to react.
To her slight surprise, Ted conducts himself with perfect, pun-free professionalism through the introductions and the first few sips of everyone's drinks. As the pleasantries fade and the tone of the meeting shifts, she takes a deep breath; his knee presses against hers under the table, briefly, a steadying warmth.
"It's lovely to see you both, but I expect you're wondering why I asked you here." She cringes internally; she sounds stiff and snotty, as cold as she’s always feared becoming. But before she can get too caught up in her own head, both Milk sisters burst into raucous laughter.
"Not at all, duck," Dorothy, the younger sister, says with startling familiarity.
Janice, the elder, chimes in, "Been hoping to hear from you since Monday."
Ah. Yes. Monday. Two days after Rupert and Bex's wedding - hastily moved up, no doubt, to avoid the bride outgrowing her gown. Rebecca mostly feels a sort of numb, bruised horror about it, has ever since the photos were splashed across the tabloids on Sunday.
But for once, it was Rupert on whom the inky tides turned, with an article on Monday - smaller, but still attention-grabbing - detailing how Bex's stake in the club now contravened Rupert and Rebecca's divorce agreement. SELL OR SUED: RUPERT'S REVENGE REVERSED, the headline read. Rebecca suspects Keeley's unseen hand somewhere in the mix.
It was Keeley who encouraged her to reach out to the Milk sisters, too, and see if they'll consider buying back their share. When Rebecca balked, Keeley said, "Imagine who else Rupert might sell to?"
"Fair point," Rebecca replied, and here she is, having drinks with the devil she knows.
Or thinks she knows, because this is already the most pleasant conversation she's had with the Milks in over a decade.
"So you - would you be interested in buying your share back?" she asks, a little incredulous. She’s not used to her plans working so easily; part of her is waiting for Rupert to walk into the pub and upend her entire night again.
"Never really wanted to sell," Dorothy says.
Janice nods, adding, "Only he offered about twice the going rate. Hard to turn that sort of extravagance down. We're no spring chickens, you know."
Rebecca lays a hand on Ted’s thigh to forestall the milk-and-eggs pun she can sense building. "And now?" She tries to keep the desperate hope out of her voice.
"Well, he can't expect to get near as much selling a Championship club as he paid buying into the Premier League, now can he?" Janice cackles.
Dorothy reaches across the table to pat Ted’s hand. "Did us a good turn there, you did. But we expect a reversal of fortunes next season, mind," she says, pointing an accusing finger.
"Do my best not to spoil that for you, ma'am," Ted replies, and Rebecca nearly chokes on her drink. She tightens her hand on his thigh.
"Why don't you go get the next round, Ted," she says with a sharp glance, and to his credit he takes the hint and goes right away.
Once he's out of earshot, both Milks lean in towards Rebecca simultaneously; it's practically choreographed, and only Rebecca's steely self-control keeps her from flinching away.
"You've traded up, love," Janice says with glee. Her mop of permed, perfumed hair nearly tickles Rebecca's nose.
Dorothy is half out of her seat to get close enough to whisper, "Knows when to shut up and sit on his assets, doesn't he, and that’s rare in a man." Horribly, she winks.
The description is so wildly off-base that it takes Rebecca a moment to process that they're talking about Ted, and then another long stretch of confusion before the breadth of their insinuations sinks in. By the time her mouth drops open in shock, Ted's there with a fresh round, and the Milk sisters sit back again, identical self-satisfied expressions on their faces.
Rebecca looks up at Ted as he passes around the glasses - really looks, as if she's seeing him for the first time. For so long, she thought of him as a tool almost more than a person, concerned less with who he was than with how she could use him. Now he's simply omnipresent, so embedded in the club and her life she hasn't the distance to consider him properly.
As he settles back down next to her, she catches the scent of his aftershave and suddenly remembers the rasp of his stubble against her palm outside the karaoke club in Liverpool. The hair on the nape of her neck prickles.
Dear god. How has it taken the Milk sisters to make her conscious of the fact that Ted Lasso is a rather attractive man?
Rebecca hasn't a clue what else Ted and the sisters talk about for the rest of their drinks. She tries to keep track of the conversation, to make appropriate noises here and there, but her mind rebels, continuously dredging up memories: Ted in his suit the night of the gala; the strength of his arms when he hugged her in his office; the brief moment when he leaned on her after his panic attack. It's incredible how much she's thought about Ted without meaning to - or perhaps without letting herself admit it.
When the Milks say goodbye outside the pub - both, shockingly, hugging Rebecca before going up on their toes to kiss Ted on the cheek - she's packed all her realizations safely away once more. After all, none of it matters. Ted's not only her employee, but also quite possibly the sweetest man she's ever met - which is saying something, given both Dani and Sam are in and out of her office regularly. He's good, and kind, and nice through and through. There’s no sense dreaming of what she can't have, of a person she can never be.
She'll have to find a way to let the Milk sisters down gently, too, though she'll wait till their transaction goes through first.
"Well, that wasn’t half-and-half as bad as you made out it was gonna be," Ted says, drawing her out of her thoughts. She frowns at him, confused, and he frowns back. "Heck, is that another thing that doesn’t translate over here? You’re missing out on some of my best puns."
"I'll take your word for it," she says drily, softening her sarcasm with a smile. "Still, it did go well, didn't it? I said they'd love you."
"They seemed pretty darn fond of you, too, boss," Ted objects. "I think you got more people in your corner than you might've imagined."
"Have I, Ted?" She means it to come out much sharper than it does.
"You know it," Ted says, his voice gentle too.
Rebecca doesn't let herself think about it too hard, only mirrors what the Milk sisters did moments ago and leans in to press a kiss to Ted’s cheek. The bristles of his moustache brush her skin as she withdraws. "Thank you," she whispers when she’s steady on her feet again.
"Any time," Ted says.
He pauses, looking into Rebecca’s eyes, and she panics. "You really are the cream of the crop, Ted Lasso," she blurts.
That rocks him back on his heels with an incredulous burst of laughter. Moment shattered; she can breathe again.
"You been hiding that one all night?" he demands. "Not fair, when you had me on my best behaviour," and suddenly it’s easy to smile and step away, separating after a further short barrage of puns.
"See you first thing tomorrow," he yells after her as she slides into her car, and she waves half-heartedly as the door closes, sealing her safely inside.
She takes a moment to sit back and gather her thoughts before starting the car and manoeuvering into the flow of traffic. The whole night has been... "Udderly unexpected," she says out loud, then snorts at herself.
She'll have to confess that one to Ted in the morning. It'll be worth the mild humiliation to see him laugh at her again. He's rubbing off on her, she realizes, and then she very deliberately shuts that thought down and refuses to follow it through to its logical conclusion.
Damn the Milk sisters, anyway.