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The first time Keeley meets Rebecca is at a locker room celebration after a big Champions League upset win against Paris Saint-Germain.
She’s just started dating Jamie, which of course means she has to show up to all his matches, or he gets really disappointed. Not angry, which would be easier to deal with because at least she could yell back, but hurt, like a little kid, like he needs her approval. So she’s taken to sitting in what’s referred to as the WAG box, meant in both loving and cutting ways, and learning all the different ways she should be screaming at the referee. It’s all a performance, but most of her life is anyway, sitting around in tight skirts with her tits out and waiting for people to react to her.
The other players’ girlfriends are friendly enough, but they’re never nice, never want to hang out beyond the games. She’s had six different versions of the same conversation with the girl that Roy Kent is seeing, which was horrible for the first two matches but now she’s begun to rely on it as something to look forward to, that will give her some structure. Stella will talk about the refs and how biased they are towards Roy, because he gets fouled all the fucking time and the other team never gets called on it. Then Keeley will add that Jamie gets fouled even more, since he’s the top scorer on the team, and Stella will sniff that Jamie deserves it because he’s a fucking knobhead, and Keeley will agree that yeah, he probably deserves to get taken down a few pegs on the field.
Today, Richmond have had an incredible win at home and Jamie tells her he’s being forced to stay afterwards for a drink with the team, but she should come join them to make it all more bearable. She walks into the locker room to a few wolf whistles from the younger guys, and she stands in the doorway for a moment, basking in the love, fluffing her hair a little bit in case anyone’s taking candid photos for Instagram. The social manager loves to do that.
“Hi, babe.” Jamie greets her as she walks over, kissing her hello with a hand squeezing her ass.
“Congratulations,” she says as they break apart. “I was told there’d be alcohol?”
“Kitman’s bringing it in, yeah,” Jamie nods.
Keeley sits on the bench to wait, appreciating all the guys who haven’t bothered to put a shirt on after showering. As she scans around the room, she’s surprised to see Rebecca Mannion, the club owner’s wife. She’s never met Rebecca before, just seen her face in tabloids and on social media. She’s never been sure if Rebecca is actually terrifying or if she just doesn’t photograph well; Keeley is all too familiar with the horrors of being papped and would never judge anyone based on photos they can’t control.
But Rebecca is in fact intimidating as hell in real life, wearing the most expensive outfit Keeley’s ever seen outside of a photoshoot: tapered trousers cut like a dream and a high-necked blouse that Keeley knows costs thousands of pounds because she saw it in a magazine a few months ago, along with diamond earrings that could could have fed Keeley and her mum for six months when she was younger.
But hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?
The only thing that gives her pause is Rebecca’s choice of footwear, an uninspired pair of flats that don’t fit with the rest of her outfit, an outfit that demands a heel. Rebecca catches her eye just then and Keeley puts her hand up to give a little wave, to hide the fact that she was staring, but she’s saved by Rupert who walks up to Rebecca and distracts her by whispering something in her ear.
Keeley clocks the reason for the flats just then: she’s exactly eye height with Rupert right now. Keeley’s lucky that she’s so short, because she’s dated plenty of guys who would feel threatened by a woman who was taller than them. She knows it’s misogyny, and all of that, but she can’t be expected to explain that to professional footballers who are told that they’re physically dominant their whole entire lives.
The alcohol arrives then, beer and quite a few bottles of nice whiskey, which she knows came at Rupert’s request because none of these twenty-year-old boys are actively choosing that aged smoky motor oil. What a pompous shriveled dick he is, making everyone drink whatever he wants.
Keeley steals two plastic cups and pours more than a couple fingers’ worth of whiskey for her and Jamie, who’s recapping the game for her as if she didn’t just see it. She lets him talk; she likes it when he gets to bask in the glory of a good goal. It’s the happiest she ever sees him, including after sex. This particular goal was a beautiful header off a corner kick from Bumbercatch, Jamie bragging about ending the keeper’s shutout record.
“Yeah, yeah, it should go in your highlight reel,” Keeley agrees as she sips, the whiskey warming her fast. It’s easier to choke down as she keeps sipping.
Rebecca is standing in a corner alone, Rupert off talking to O’Brien, and Keeley can’t help but wonder why she’s here, when she never comes to celebrations like this. Then again, neither does Rupert, from what she can tell from the last few months; he must have something to prove.
Without really knowing what her feet are doing, Keeley gets up and walks over to Rebecca, who’s holding a cup with just a splash of whiskey in it.
“Hi,” she says, pushing herself to be bold. “I’m Keeley. We’ve never met, but I’m…”
“Jamie’s girlfriend?” Rebecca asks with a hint of a smile on her face. Keeley can’t tell if she’s making fun of her or not. “I saw his hand on your ass earlier,” she says by way of explanation.
Oh. She can tell Rebecca thinks she should be ashamed, but she literally could not care less. What’s a boyfriend for if he’s not gonna grope you in public? That’s half the fun.
“What a killer fucking win that was,” Keeley tries again.
Rebecca smiles for real this time. “It was, wasn’t it? I didn’t think we’d hold on to the lead, but the boys surprised me.”
Keeley nods again, not sure what to add. She’s so intimidated by Rebecca’s height and outfit that her brain is drawing a blank.
“I’m going to get another drink. You want me to refill you?” Keeley offers, pointing at Rebecca’s cup.
“Oh, no thanks,” Rebecca says quickly. She hasn’t even had a sip from her cup yet.
Keeley shrugs. “I’ll be back.”
She gets pulled away though on her way to the drinks table, Bumbercatch’s girlfriend asking her opinion on a restaurant she wants to try for brunch tomorrow, and they devolve into a conversation comparing the best mimosa spots. Keeley forgets about Rebecca until she turns around and sees that she’s disappeared, though Rupert is still around somewhere schmoozing. She wonders for a second where Rebecca went off to, but she’s easily distracted from investigating more.
She’s both terrified and intrigued by Rebecca; she can just tell there’s a lot more to her buried deep underneath her highest WAG status, but she’ll have to wait until Rebecca reveals it to her.
+++++
After Rebecca leaves Rupert, Keeley can see her returning back to her body — not that she knows what that looks like exactly, but there’s a light behind her eyes now, no matter how much she pretends to be cold and closed-off.
Keeley wants to approach her, but she’s still too nervous to do anything about it until Rebecca promises to axe the tabloid photos of her and Ted. It’s such a kind thing to do for Keeley, who doesn’t have a lot of women in her life willing to do her favors just because they can, always trying to figure out what they can squeeze out of her in return.
(And even when Keeley discovers later on that Rebecca cancelling the photos wasn’t magnanimous at all, but a way to cover her own ass, she’s grateful for it anyway because it jump-started their friendship, false though the pretenses may have been.)
Then at the gala, when Rebecca tells her that Jamie’s invited a second plus one, the smug fucking twat, she reaches out again to show Keeley that she has her back. Even on the night she was forced to be in the same room with her scumbag ex-husband, she extends a hand to make sure Keeley knows she’s been made a fool of. The players’ girlfriends would have laughed behind her back, she’s sure of it, but wouldn’t have said anything unless they were trying to cut her down, challenge her authority.
There’s a warmth that emanates from Rebecca in short bursts that makes Keeley want to latch onto her, a voice deep inside her brain that tells her that Rebecca is going to be special to her if she holds on tight. So she listens to Rebecca’s advice and steals a sip of her drink, which Rebecca lets her do, probably because she also hasn’t had anyone to share a drink with in a very long time.
When Keeley emerges from the venue holding two bottles of champagne, she’s exhausted and hurt but relieved deep down that she and Jamie are done for good. Maybe this is exactly what she needs, the kick that makes her stop dating the same douchebag footballer over and over again. Maybe Rebecca is someone she needs in her life to help her make better choices. She spots Rebecca standing at the bottom of the stairs and it feels right, like she’s supposed to have dumped her boyfriend and gained a life guide.
“You wanna go get like, really drunk?” she asks, holding up the champagne triumphantly.
“Yes I do,” Rebecca answers, her eyebrows cocked in excitement.
“Then we can go rob a bank or something.”
Keeley hands one bottle to Rebecca and pops the cork on the other one she’s holding, squealing as the foam runs down her hand. She takes a long sip and passes it to Rebecca.
A pedicab bell rings in the distance and Rebecca sighs sadly. “I’ve always wanted to go for a ride on one of those.”
“Well, no time like the present,” Keeley says, waving at the driver to cycle around to them.
“Where would we even go?” Rebecca asks, as if mystified by the concept of having a desire and then acting on it.
“We can just ride around the neighborhood. It doesn’t matter where. Don’t you want the wind in your hair?”
“Well, all right, if you insist.”
“I do insist,” Keeley says. “It’ll be good for you.”
And something magical happens as the driver starts pedaling and Keeley feels the rush of the wind, the air not yet cold, an exhilaration she hasn’t felt since she rode her bike around her neighborhood in primary school. She’s having a proper capital-M Moment as Rebecca turns to her.
“You were right, this is good for me,” she says, pleasantly surprised despite herself.
“It’s healing us,” Keeley insists, and she and Rebecca have a good laugh at that, cackling so hard she can’t breathe, at the idea that a bicycle ride through the quiet night can smooth over their awful fucking evenings. But maybe it can, actually, because she has a new friend by her side that she can just tell she’ll have forever.
Keeley hasn’t felt this way with many people; she prides herself on being able to read people well, know what they want from her, but with Rebecca she just has a feeling that the universe was waiting for the right time to bring them into each other’s lives for real. It’s just a vibe, an energy exchange, but she knows it’s true.
They ride around for twenty minutes, just enough time to polish off two-thirds of the bottle between them with a minimum of spilling, though it’s getting hard since they’re getting closer to drunk and this pedicab isn’t the steadiest ride.
“God, I’m starving,” Keeley groans as they step out of the cab with many thanks and a generous tip to the driver.
“There’s never real food at these events,” Rebecca agrees.
Keeley sees the inviting white lights of a Five Guys in the distance and grabs Rebecca’s arm. “I need chips. We’re going to get some now.” And they shuffle off down the street in their heels, both a little unsteady, with Keeley trying to hold the open bottle casually by her thigh.
She orders a burger and chips from the kid working behind the counter who seems vaguely amused by their fancy dresses. She must admit it’s hilarious seeing Rebecca squinting at the menu in her mermaid dress as if all the offerings are foreign to her. Keeley’s glad they stopped offering free peanuts years ago, sure the scattered shells on the floor would be too much of a deterrent to Rebecca, who would have backed out of there in a second.
“What do you want?” Keeley prompts Rebecca. “I bet you didn’t eat anything all night.”
“Uh. What are you getting?”
“A cheeseburger and chips.”
Rebecca wrinkles her nose slightly. “I don’t know about that.”
“Come on. You have to get chips, at least. When’s the last time you had proper chips? Not the soggy bullshit from a pub.”
“It’s been awhile.”
Keeley’s willing to cut her some slack; she’s been at a gala all night, and is in rich socialite mode. Well, it’s Keeley’s job to show her the simpler pleasures in life.
“She wants an order of chips too,” Keeley tells the guy behind the counter. He nods wordlessly and hands her two enormous cups filled with chips, the grease starting to soak through the paper on contact, and points to the ketchup and napkins on the counter. Excellent.
Keeley steers Rebecca to a table while they wait for her burger, stashing the still-full second bottle of champagne on a chair out of sight. Keeley plops down without a second thought, but Rebecca looks warily at the seat cushion and wipes it down with a napkin before sitting down. She does have the decency to look guilty as she does it, at least.
After the proper sterilizing of the seat and table, Rebecca finally takes a chip from her container and takes a halfhearted bite, with a defeated air like, I’m only doing this because you want me to. But her eyes brighten immediately as the taste hits her tongue.
“Holy shit, these are incredible,” she gasps.
“That’s why I said you had to order something.” Keeley’s feeling smug.
“I feel like my whole brain’s been rewired.”
“Yeah, babe, this has been here for years. You can come get chips anytime you want.”
“I’m more of a sweets person,” Rebecca shrugs.
“It’s fine to enjoy more than one food. Just eat and relax.” She doesn’t want Rebecca to feel like this should be a one-night-only indulgence.
Rebecca sighs. “All right.”
When Keeley’s burger is ready they eat in happy tipsy silence, sneaking sips of champagne without trying to be so obvious about it. Though it’s clear the sixteen-year-old working wouldn’t bother to yell at them, she doesn’t want to break too many rules in Rebecca’s careful world tonight.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Keeley says as they get up to leave. She’s worried that if she starts talking she’ll word-vomit about where she sees their friendship going, but she knows Rebecca can’t handle any of that tonight.
“Of course,” Rebecca says, holding the door open for her. “Now what?”
“And now we get properly shitfaced.”
+++++
After Richmond loses to Man City, the final nail in the coffin of relegation, everyone gathers in the locker room for a long time, not wanting to leave and face the press outside. Dani breaks out the mezcal he apparently keeps in his locker and everyone passes it around, taking sips from the bottle, which would be gross under normal circumstances with this many people but none of them are really thinking straight.
Keeley is still curled into Roy’s side, so close she can feel his chest move as he inhales, and she can feel the desperation radiating off of him, the knowledge that he’ll never be back in a locker room quite in this way, wanting to soak up every moment of the team altogether even if everyone’s quietly devastated. She rubs his back as they wait for the mezcal to come around to them. After a couple sips he starts to come back into himself a bit, speaking in more than monosyllables and skimming his fingers over her thigh in a thank you for holding him up.
Once Roy’s finally in a full conversation with Sam, Keeley gets up to talk to Rebecca, intercepting the mezcal on the way and tucking herself in the corner with her friend. She holds it out to Rebecca, who makes a face like I’m not drinking from the same bottle as twenty-five other people, so Keeley just rolls her eyes and wipes the mouth of the bottle off on her shirt.
“Come on,” she says. “It’ll do you good.”
Rebecca acquiesces, as she does so often with Keeley, and takes a swig.
“I think you jinxed us when you said you’ve really started to care about football,” Rebecca jokes, though her voice is still heavy.
“Sorry about that.”
“Is Roy—” Rebecca doesn’t finish the question, which Keeley understands because there’s no good way to ask if he’s going to be able to cope with the end of his life as he knows it.
“I don’t know,” Keeley admits. “I’ve tried to talk to him about life beyond the team, but it’s like he goes somewhere else and doesn’t hear me. I’m kind of really fucking scared, to be honest. He’s so — he takes it all so seriously.”
The understatement of the century.
“It’s good he has you,” Rebecca says.
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Rebecca would know the recipe for disaster, probably, having watched this team for more than a decade, having watched lesser guys than Roy flame out and retire with almost no warning. She and Roy have a long history, a quiet understanding; he knows what she was like during the worst of her marriage to Rupert, which he’s refused to talk about with Keeley, and Rebecca knew him before his knee was fucked and he slowed down and the young pricks on the team turned him into a shouting bitter old man.
Keeley rests her head on Rebecca’s shoulder as she watches Roy across the room. He catches her eye and she blows him a little kiss in return.
“I don’t know —” Keeley says again. “I think I’m out of my depth here. Of what to do for him in the face of this loss.”
If this were any other guy, she’d already be out the door already, terrified of what he needed from her, certainly not prepared to lick his wounds. But everything’s different with Roy already, after only a couple months, something holding them together even as the ground is crumbling underneath him.
“He has to see all the people who are in his life to stay,” Rebecca tells her gently.
And so later, when Roy refuses to get out of bed more often than not, Keeley sits with him when she can and she calls Rebecca and Ted and his sister and Phoebe to come over, help him feel connected, talk about anything other than football. The only exception allowed is Phoebe, who’s joining a new summer league that Roy pushed her to try out for. Hearing about her training sessions is the only time he shows emotion at all, his pride showing through.
Some days she feels tired and scared for him, and some days she just feels angry that she’s expected to shoulder such a burden, but she eventually remembers every time that it’s Roy she should feel sorry for, when he’s going through the worst time of his life. So she pushes him to talk to Phoebe’s school about coaching their fall football league, which is the only thing that gets him out of the house, but he always comes home and wraps her up in his arms afterwards while he recaps training.
It’s not the same as being a Greyhound, but it’s a start.
+++++
Keeley stays up for two nights straight worrying about how to tell Rebecca that she’s leaving the club. Roy sits up with her for part of the first night, reassuring her that Rebecca will be happy she’s moving on to bigger and better things, running her own company, for fuck’s sake. And he reminds her of her mother, and how she swore she’d never get stuck working somewhere forever out of a twisted loyalty, and holds her as she cries. The tears aren’t happy or sad, just a release of tension, the overwhelming feeling that her life is about to change and she isn’t sure if she’s ready to put in the work to make it what she wants it to be.
But when she does tell Rebecca, of course she’s thrilled; Roy really knows how to predict her. Rebecca is thrilled and sad and nostalgic for their first weeks together, for that day Keeley brought her a cactus and lost her mind over her bare tits. That cactus still sits on her windowsill, more than doubled in size.
Even after the news that Rupert’s bought West Ham, no doubt with a revenge plan in mind, Rebecca is determined to make this a happy day. Keeley is glad to be of service as a distraction.
“You don’t have to take me out,” Keeley says as Rebecca drags her out to their usual bar. “I already celebrated with Roy.”
Rebecca won’t hear any objections. “That’s just too bad, because you need to celebrate with me, too.”
Sat in their usual spot, Rebecca orders the £2,000 bottle of champagne they like to joke about getting, waving away Keeley’s protests.
“You deserve it,” Rebecca says as she pours expertly into two flutes. “The stupid expensive champagne, your own PR firm, eventually your own media empire, even.”
“Well, let me just start with the PR firm,” Keeley says, laughing. “My brain can’t handle more than that right now.”
She sips her champagne, which is good but not great, a little dry for her taste. Then again, Keeley doesn’t know shit about wine. Rebecca grew up with a wine snob for a mum, and nods approvingly when she sips her own, so Keeley chalks it up to her own unrefined palate.
“It’s funny.” Keeley says, thinking out loud, not actually wanting to laugh. “My mum drank wine out of a box when I was growing up.”
Rebecca cocks her head, probably trying to understand where that came from. “You don’t talk about your mum much.”
“Neither do you.”
Rebecca smiles. “Fair point.”
“I’m just wondering, I guess, if she’s really proud of me.”
Keeley feels a little breathless after that. She hadn’t meant to be so honest; she can say anything to Rebecca, of course, but it’s 5pm and the bar is growing more crowded and it’s not really the place for a heart-to-heart.
“Of course she is,” Rebecca says sharply.
“I dunno. She always hated my modeling and made me feel dirty for taking my clothes off and liking it. She kept saying she’d get me a real job. Some admin bullshit in an office. We fought a lot about it for years.”
“Mothers can be awful,” Rebecca nods. “Don’t I know it.”
“And now I feel like, if I’m successful with my own firm and she’s happy for me, can I accept that? If I don’t want to accept her disappointment with me in my underwear on billboards and shit?”
Keeley wipes her eyes, smearing some of her makeup in the process. She’d reapplied after she and Rebecca cried off their mascara, but it looks like she’ll have to touch up again.
“Come here,” Rebecca says, and folds her into a giant hug. Keeley tucks her face into Rebecca’s shoulder and sniffles for a bit, trying to catch her breath.
“You are absolutely allowed to take what you want from your mum and leave the rest,” Rebecca says firmly. “God knows if I listened to all the bullshit my mother spews I’d never have made it out of that house alive.”
“I don’t think I should tell her yet, though. In case something falls through.”
Rebecca’s face falls in pity, but she doesn’t say much in response. “That’s up to you.”
They’re silent for a minute.
“How did Roy take the news?”
Keeley half-laughs.
“Not well?”
“Oh, he was happy for me, of course. He’s not a monster,” Keeley says.
“But?”
“You know how he gets. He’s worried I’m not gonna have time for him anymore.”
Rebecca sighs. “He loves you so much, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, he does.” It’s overwhelming sometimes, the weight of his love. She’s still figuring out how to meet the expectations that come with it.
“Maybe some space would be good for you two,” she offers.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Keeley says with a dramatic shrug, deflecting just enough so Rebecca doesn’t keep pushing her on it.
She’s still figuring out how to be with another person for real, how to take his needs into account while being honest about her own, how to choose to stay every day, even when things get hard and he spends hours with Phoebe’s teacher who’s always looked at Roy with hungry eyes. Rebecca promptly called Phoebe’s teacher a cow when she heard that particular story, about the art show and the three hour setup, which made her feel better for a minute but not much longer. She’ll get over it, she knows, especially since Roy didn’t completely lose his shit about Jamie confessing his love, but God, it’s not easy.
“Do you want me to tell you all the reasons why I know you’ll be so fucking brilliant at this PR gig?” Rebecca asks to change the subject.
“Absolutely I do,” Keeley says, pouring herself more champagne.
+++++
It’s Richmond’s final game of their first season back in the Premier League and they just need a win to finish at the top of the table. Sure, they had some good luck with injuries on Man City and Chelsea, but first place is first place.
Keeley starts crying five minutes before the game is called because Richmond is up 2-1 and she can’t fucking stand the pressure of knowing that they could give up a goal at any second. To see them win their final game at home is extra special, sitting next to Rebecca in the owner’s box, with the memories of all the matches she’s attended at this point, cheering and booing and squeezing Rebecca’s hand.
When the whistle finally blows, cementing Richmond’s top spot, Keeley can’t stop screaming in Rebecca’s face, so caught up in the moment she probably won’t be able to talk tomorrow. They run out onto the pitch afterwards and Keeley jumps into Roy’s arms with such enthusiasm she almost tears out a chunk of his cheek with the stone of her engagement ring. She’s still getting used to how big it is.
The whole team goes out to the Crown & Anchor afterwards, which Rebecca rented out ahead of time with the knowledge that everyone would need a private space to either celebrate or obsess over what could have gone differently.
In all the confusion after the game, Keeley hasn’t seen Rebecca since they both ran onto the pitch. She’s waiting for her drink and chatting with Colin when she finally catches sight of Rebecca, who’s making a beeline for her with slightly crazy eyes.
“I need to talk to you,” she says, grabbing Keeley’s wrist. “Now.”
“Uh, okay,” Keeley says, accepting her wine from Mae just in time and following Rebecca’s strong grip. “What’s wrong?”
“Something’s happened,” Rebecca says impatiently.
“Are you hurt? Where are we going?”
Rebecca opens the door to the single-use toilet and pulls Keeley in before locking it behind her.
“Rebecca, what the fuck?”
“I needed someplace private.”
“Do you have state secrets or something? It’s gross in here.”
Rebecca exhales slowly. “Okay. Have a sip of your drink if you want it.”
Keeley takes a few swallows before setting it on the sink.
“So. You know how we just won the Premier League title.”
“Yes, Rebecca, I was there, I screamed, I cried, I won’t soon forget it.”
“And we went down onto the field to say congratulations to everyone.”
“Yeah…” Keeley has no idea where this is going.
“Well, I found Ted to say congratulations and… we kissed.”
“You WHAT?” Keeley understands now why Rebecca had to tell her in private. She’s glad the pub is loud because otherwise her squeal could probably be heard outside.
“I don’t know what happened. There was confetti everywhere and I felt like I was in a film and Ted hugged me and there was so much adrenaline and then it just… happened.”
“Okay, slow down. A proper kiss? Mouths open and everything?”
“There was tongue,” Rebecca admits a bit sheepishly.
The screech Keeley lets out probably comes close to breaking the glass in the mirror. She’s known for years this would happen someday, but she never thought she’d be there for it and not be paying attention.
“How did I miss this? Who else saw?”
“It was so busy. I don’t know if anyone noticed.”
Keeley’s feeling so giddy she’s a little unsteady on her feet.
“Wow. Wow. Okay. And it was a good kiss?”
“Of course it was.”
“You’re right, that was a dumb question. I’m just trying to process here.”
“You’re trying to process?” Rebecca asks, incredulous, her voice breaking. “I’m trying to figure out what the fuck this means.”
“What this means? It means you two have finally admitted that you’re fucking in love with each other.”
“But what if that’s not how he meant it?”
Keeley stops bouncing on her toes and gets deadly serious. “Rebecca. If you fuck this up, I will never forgive you.”
Rebecca opens her mouth to protest but closes it. Good. She probably doesn’t want to say anything stupid.
“Ted loves you. You love him. You’ve been practically dating for months, with all your movie nights and dinners out. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that he sleeps in your guest room sometimes. Winning the league was just the perfect sign from the universe that you two should be together.”
“You think so?”
“I fucking know so. Now you have to get out of here and go talk to him.”
Keeley and Rebecca exit the toilet to Isaac waiting with a pained look on his face. Keeley studies him for a moment; he looks like he just really needs to pee. And even if he did hear anything, he can be trusted to be discreet.
Across the room, Keeley spots Ted and makes a beeline for him. “TED!” she shouts.
“Hiya, Keeley.”
“I can’t fucking believe it,” she says, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Yeah, well, you know, the guys played their very best.”
She takes a step back so she can look him in the eye. “Not the game, you idiot.”
Ted looks confused for a fraction of a second before he locks eyes with Rebecca, who gives him a tiny sorry for yelling about it immediately shrug.
“Oh,” he says, his smile huge. “You didn’t mean the game.”
He slings his arm around Rebecca’s waist and she settles into him, closing her eyes for a moment. Keeley has to take the moments where she can get them and snaps a quick unobtrusive photo, Ted looking at Rebecca with his eyes soft with affection. They’ll want it later.
“Can I speak with you for a moment?” Rebecca asks Ted when she stands up straight again. “Outside.”
“Sure,” Ted agrees, his voice thick with anticipation.
Rebecca leads him out of the pub, still holding his hand, and Keeley plops herself down on a stool because her legs just can’t hold her anymore.
“You drunk already?” Roy asks when he spots her a couple minutes later.
“Not yet. Just happy,” she says, turning her face up to kiss him.
+++++
Keeley has never been the kind of girl who fantasized about her wedding. Most people assumed she would have it all planned out; she guesses because she likes clothes and jewelry, the next step would be having a binder full of wedding ideas or whatever other bullshit little girls do in American films. But she’s always wanted something small, something intimate, something her mother can’t ruin even if she’s mouthing off.
And she’s mostly achieved it, with a few more of her mother’s family members than she would have liked, but she’s happy about everything else. She even gets to spend an uninterrupted twenty minutes with Roy, after everyone told her she’d be bouncing between guests all night and wouldn’t be able to even have a conversation with her new husband. Keeley has Rebecca and Ted to thank for most of that, standing guard in front of their table and introducing themselves to anyone who walked up to say hello, pretending they were the intended target as the maid of honor and best man. Keeley eats a full meal holding Roy’s hand, and steals kisses in between bites, and it’s only when she cleans her plate that Rebecca lays a hand on Ted’s arm to stop him from going into painful detail about some of the finer points of American football.
“Thank you,” she whispers as she gets up to mingle, pulling Rebecca and then Ted into a hug. “You two are the best.”
“That’s what we’re supposed to do,” Rebecca insists. “Keep the well-wishers at bay until you’re emotionally equipped to deal with them.”
Roy gets up too, a little less eagerly; he’s always hated a dinner party, and this is the worst possible version of one, where he’s expected to say something nice to everyone here as they drink alcohol he paid for. He kisses Rebecca on the cheek in thanks and claps Ted on the back and then takes Keeley’s hand again, squeezing it for strength.
“Don’t leave me alone with your uncles,” Roy warns.
“I’ll do my best. But it’s out of my control.”
The rest of the evening passes in a blur, a loud blur once the DJ starts playing music, and Keeley finds herself on the dance floor for the last of the dances Roy will allow her, wrapped in his arms and swaying to the slow music.
“I love you,” she says as the song ends.
“That’d be a little awkward if you didn’t. We just spent a lot of money on a wedding,” he responds, but he’s smiling even as she swats at him. “I love you too. Of course. Every minute of every day.”
Phoebe runs up to them just then and insists on dancing with Roy, who happily accepts as the music turns faster once again. Keeley walks off the dance floor to find Rebecca, who’s sitting alone and drinking a glass of champagne like she’s waiting for Keeley to pass by.
“Hi babe,” Keeley says, plopping into the empty seat next to Rebecca. “Can I have a sip of your drink?”
Rebecca lets it go without protest. “I was just watching you and Roy and feeling like all is right with the world.”
“That’s what Ted said earlier.”
“It meant so much to him to be able to walk you down the aisle.”
“Yeah, he told me about a thousand times this afternoon,” Keeley grins as she takes a sip of champagne. “I’m glad he agreed to do it.”
“I wasn’t sure he’d get through it without crying.”
“That’s more than you can say about your maid of honor toast,” Keeley reminds her. After swearing she’d be calm about it, Rebecca fully cried during her speech, not just the cute-looking eye mist but a full-on snotty cry. “Thank you again for that, by the way. I don’t think anyone’s ever said anything so nice to me before. And certainly not in front of everyone I know.”
“I don’t know what I’ll ever do without you,” Rebecca says, suddenly teary all over again.
“Well luckily, you don’t have to find out,” Keeley reassures her. She finishes off the glass of champagne and then tucks her head into Rebecca’s shoulder. The photographer captures them at exactly this moment and Keeley gives Rebecca a framed version that stays front and center in her living room for years to come.