Archive of Our Own ^beta

June 2023 - May 2024: Premier League

Little hums that sound a lot like uttering the word mum over and over are babbled over the baby monitor. She hears Ted chuckle sleepily and her arm around his waist tightens as she presses impossibly closer.

“Sounds like someone is awake and wants her mama,” Ted whispers as his hand reaches up and covers her own.

“What time is it?” Rebecca asks as she mumbles against his t-shirt covered back. She hadn’t slept well. Eventually giving up the back and forth to the loo to lean against her bathtub for a while since she’s felt nauseous but hadn’t vomited (yet). Ted had kept her company for a while, asking for her hand as he played with the pressure points on her arm and in her hand. I do have a double major with one of them being sports therapy. You know, the muscle and tissue kind not the mental kind, he reminds her as she sighed in relief when he hit a pressure point that paused her nausea for a moment.

“Little past six,” he tells her through a yawn. “I can get her and bring her in here if you want to sleep.”

“It's okay. I’ll just nap when she does,” she slips her arm away from him and gets up slowly.

He turns in bed, watching her as she moves to the walk-in closet to pick out a short-sleeved dressing gown to go over the bright blue silk nightie she had worn to bed last night before she heads to the washroom and then out their door to head to Claire’s room. He’ll get up in a minute to follow her downstairs to make his coffee and cut up some fruit from the market for her and Claire to share. But he enjoys the way she greets Claire every morning. The exaggerated good morning, my little love, and Claire’s answering hum of mum with the softest giggle always sets his morning up for success. And, today, Rebecca adds a happy birthday to her good morning. They’re sure Claire doesn’t know what happy birthday means, but they do, and Rebecca was determined to make today all about Claire.

When he finishes his own morning routine, Rebecca and Claire are on the floor of the sitting room on Claire’s playmat. BBC Sport on the telly as Rebecca holds Claire’s hands as she stands and bounces in place.

“You think she’s going to walk soon?” Ted wonders as he leans against the entryway to the sitting room.

“Paediatrician says any day now,” Rebecca answers as she briefly looks back at him. “How old was Henry?”

“Oh, he liked to scoot his boot for a while on his hands and knees. So, he didn’t walk until maybe 14 months?”

Rebecca hums and looks at Claire, her brown eyes wide as saucers as Rebecca lets go of her and she stands on her own, her little feet bounce in place before she tumbles down into Rebecca’s lap.

Ted watches for a few minutes as Rebecca leans forward and presses noisy kisses to Claire’s cheeks, the baby launching into a deep belly laugh at her mother’s antics. 

“Mangos and blueberries sound good for a pre-breakfast snack?” Ted asks from the kitchen.

“Fine,” Rebecca answers back after a moment of consideration as Claire shimmies out of her mother’s lap and crawls over to her collection of baby-toddler books. The big, thick pages can withstand being gummed as she’s still testing everything with her mouth before she deems something acceptable.

Rebecca watches as Claire pats the books left on the floor from last night, little fingers trying to find the edge. They’re bigger than her blocks or other sorting toys, but she gets the hang of it.

She can smell the coffee Ted brews in the kitchen and oddly enough, her stomach grumbles with hunger. She’s not used to being hungry so early in the morning, but with how she feels at night, she’ll take any amount of food to settle her stomach. 

“Blueberries for my little birthday blueberry and my boo-berry,” Ted greets as he walks in with a yellow plastic bowl and a regular bowl filled with blueberries and mango slices. He sets them down on the coffee table behind Rebecca and crouches beside her with a chuckle.

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca raises a brow as she looks over at him.

“They have Boo-Berry cereal and everything, though. Oh, I should ask Henry to get some at the market before he comes over for Thanksgiving. See, they usually only sell it at Halloween and it sells like hotcakes. Almost everyone goes for the Count Chocula, so I think the Boo-Berry is safe. You don’t like strawberries so Franken-Berry is out. But we could do a little taste test?”

He stands and goes back into the kitchen as he’s telling her all about the weird American cereals, getting his cup of coffee, before settling down next to her.

Rebecca shakes her head as she twists around for her bowl.

“And get Claire hopped up on American cereals that only come into markets during one American holiday?”

She forks a piece of mango, chewing slowly. Her taste buds seem to be evolving each week, and it's been a lot to process that she might give them away tonight. She hopes not. She wants a few more weeks with their secret just between them.

Claire hears her name and looks up, hamming it up for her father with a cheesy grin as she spots him sitting next to her mother and Rebecca offers him a forkful of blueberries and mango. 

Seeing food, Claire babbles, signing for food as she sits with her pile of books and toys. 

“Nope, you have to come over and eat by the table,” Ted lifts her little yellow bowl and shows her the contents. “Come eat with your mama.” 

She does crawl over and uses the coffee table to hoist herself up to stand when Ted puts the bowl on the coffee table. Her little fingers grab blueberries one by one. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid love blueberries as much as she does. Well, other than that time Violet Beauregarde got turned into a blueberry. Maybe we should have named you Violet.” 

It is a strange fruit for a freshly minted one-year-old to enjoy. She’s liked them for months, though. Rebecca’s not sure Henry even likes blueberries now that she’s thinking back on the times they’ve had fruit with meals. Henry will eat hers and Claire’s strawberries and melons while Claire takes smashed blueberries and her face and hands are always a massacre of jam. But her little happy sighs as she eats make them keep blueberries in the house.

“You know, our baby boy is the size of a pound sign. Uh, the, uh phone kind not our money kind. I guess Keels would say hashtag. Baby girl is the size of one of our iPhone apps on the screen.”

He sips at his coffee as he looks at his phone and the website he’s bookmarked to check every week.

“I’m still wondering how you found a site that gives you odd things to compare our babies to when the fruit and veg one you used for her was perfectly fine,” Rebecca watches Claire gum a mango slice as she forks one of her own from her bowl.

“Oh, I just went on the ol’ Google. Typed in fun ways to measure babies. I guess people are putting their babies on blankets and doing fun things to capture the months? I saw one that had a baby and a twelve slice pizza. What a hoot.”

He watches as she gives him a half-smile.

“Hey,” he puts down his phone and knocks her knee with his own. “We got to see Emily’s video of our baby girl last week and she’s passing all the milestones. And, we get to see our baby boy in a couple of weeks. He’s going to have a great first photo session for his mama. And we can hang their little photos on the fridge or maybe in our room since Deborah sure likes popping in with her spare key.”

She wants to know how he can be so sure of all this when it had gone so wrong with a boy the first time. When she’s of advanced maternal age and can easily blame the nausea on the hormones she still has to inject herself with until they reach ten weeks. Sometimes, she holds the little post-it note with ‘believe’ in his blocky writing when she lays down for her nap. Holds it to her belly like they did in the waiting room in Brighton a few weeks ago.

Eventually, Rebecca says she can handle more food and Ted makes waffles as a special birthday breakfast, knowing Claire adores them whenever Henry’s in town (despite Henry's preference for pancakes). Claire pokes at each of the squares in her high chair, babbling as Rebecca adds a few more squares as they disappear since Claire prefers to steal from their plates rather than have her own. So, they’ve devised the simple solution of adding her portion onto either of their plates until she gets the hang of solids for every meal.

True to form, Rebecca naps with Claire in their bed after a brief time outside to watch Ted prep the grill and let Claire enjoy a little summer morning sunshine before her bath and a nap. She always seemed to sleep a little more soundly when they took her to play outside underneath the wisteria tree on the picnic blanket. With his girls napping, he had been able to make Claire’s cake and the cupcakes for the few party guests-Deborah, Beard, Roy, and Keeley. The larger party will take place when Henry and his mother get here, and the boys are back in town from the breaks they take to enjoy the off-season. It’ll sort of be a hybrid team barbecue, Claire’s first birthday, Rebecca’s 44th birthday, and the announcement they’re expecting all rolled into one event. He’s even got a confirmation that John and Emily will be able to come. The two are delighted that they’ll be meeting the entire AFC Richmond team and will be able to take photos with the team and their little boy. When he’d woken them up a half-hour before their guests were due to arrive, Rebecca smelled like baby lotion and minty toothpaste. She had been out of sorts the other day. Wondering how on earth a tiny clump of cells could suck the energy right out of her at the drop of a hat or make her feel like she was on a dinghy in the middle of the Atlantic during a storm with how nauseous she felt. She was okay, though. Relished the fact she is experiencing symptoms. 

There’s something about the two blondes in their bed that he can’t help but get all warm and fuzzy about. Claire may have his eye colour and bubbly personality after she gets used to seeing familiar faces, but she’s all Rebecca. And, with Rebecca’s hair growing out over the past year, she’s let the platinum blonde grow out to her natural, darker dirty blonde colour. Which meant when they put their heads together, literally, it was like they were conjoined. And, he loved it. Deborah had brought over old photos with Rebecca in her bowl-sized pool she had until age three, and it was like Claire was a spitting image of tiny Rebecca. Right now, though, Claire is like a little octopus, clinging to any part of Rebecca she can touch. Little whistles through her nose as she breathes in and out. He’s sure one or both of them might have pillow marks if they turn their heads from sleeping so hard. When he wakes Rebecca, he presses a kiss to her cheek and smiles as she swats at his face, mumbling about ticklish facial hair and five more minutes. He allows it, settling behind her, and he can’t help but curve his arm around her waist, a hand pressing low on her belly and she shifts into his touch. 

“You smell like vanilla and blueberries,” Rebecca hums sleepily.

He chuckles against her shoulder and presses a kiss to the t-shirt she’s clearly stolen from his pajama drawer.

“Her cake is cooling downstairs and it’ll be ready to be assembled before dinner.”

“You didn’t have to make her cake, you know. We could have ordered it,” she tells him as her free hand settles atop his on her belly. She knows if he was under the sheets, his hand would gravitate under the sheet and his t-shirt to rest on her skin.

“I know, baby,” Ted reminds her. “But I didn’t mind. Plus, I made Henry’s first cake. So, it’s kinda tradition.”

Rebecca hums softly and squeezes his fingers.

—

Beard arrives first, a present in hand despite Rebecca’s insistence Claire would be okay without gifts until the larger party. Keeley and Roy follow suit ten minutes later. Claire sees the pink monstrosity that is the gift bag holding her present and Keeley sets Claire up for distraction, giving her a little handheld pompom before swiping her from Rebecca’s arms in exchange for the bag.

Her mother lets herself in when they’re all in the garden. Although it's only late afternoon and there are a few snacks about, dinner in the company of a one-year-old will always be earlier than any usual dinnertime the rest of the adults are used to. 

Keeley’s trying to set a paper crown on Claire’s head with little success as Roy holds her up as she bounces in place in the lush grass. Keeley gives up, putting the crown atop Rebecca’s head as she sits on the steps of the decking, watching the birthday girl and her friends.

Beard and Ted are over at the grill, Ted pointing to the picnic table with the bottom of his beer bottle, and she thinks they’re talking about dinner outside rather than inside the kitchen.

“Hello, Sausage,” Deborah greets her daughter as she makes her way through the doors and surveys the garden and guests.

“Hello, mum,” Rebecca looks up and shades her face with her hand.

“Do you need help with anything?” Deborah wonders. “I saw the little cake. If Ted ever wanted to give up managing your football club, he could open his own bakery.”

“You’d have to ask Ted,” Rebecca says as nods to the side of the garden. “I know Beard has his eye on helping with the grill.”

Her mother abandons the deck a moment later, greeting Ted and Beard, and shortly after, announcing she’s in charge of drinks and she’ll be back in a jiff. 

Rebecca looks over to Ted, who shrugs.

It's Beard who follows her mother into the kitchen after a bit, barbecue tongs clicking together as he passes her with a wink.

Beard comes out with a tray of drinks she has no doubt is her mother’s doing and hands her a glass of ice and clear liquid and she takes it by muscle memory.

“Gin and tonic for the lady,” he raises a brow at the glass, his expression only for her as his back was turned to everyone else in the garden.

He had done the same thing at the Crown and Anchor that night when she had read their initial results to Ted. It had turned out to be water with a hint of lime that night. She was thankful her go-to drink didn’t require much masking if they had to leave the house and go to the pub.

“You know, don’t you,” she whispers.

“I deduce, my dear,” he tips his flat cap in her direction and she wonders if he’d be amenable to her father’s Arthur Conan Doyle collection that her mother will inevitably give her when the man passes. “Don’t worry, no one else suspects. Deborah made the drinks and I tossed yours when I asked her to bring out the chicken to Ted.”

She sips the drink he’s handed her. It's the same as that night at the Crown and Anchor and she wants to hug him for being ridiculously observant.

“Are you doing okay?” He asks in a low whisper.

“It’s terrifying and thrilling,” she shrugs. “Always seem to be nauseous, though.”

“When you start drinking tea again, let me know. I know a good one to help with that problem.”

She briefly wonders how he knows she stopped the consumption of her daily beverage but isn't surprised. Just like how he knew she could stand a sleeve of soda crackers in the afternoon and she had to space out her biscuits when she was having to get her blood drawn what seemed like every other day back when they were in the thick of IVF.

He nods and makes the circuit around the garden, handing everyone a drink. He even presents Claire with a sippy cup with a fanfare befit for a princess. And Claire enjoys every minute of it if her giggle is anything to go by.

She abandons her perch on the deck, feeling slightly nauseous and she breathes in slowly, heading for Ted. Wrapping herself around his back, she wraps her arm around his waist, holding her hand up and pointing with her middle finger to the pressure point he had found quelled her nausea the other night… morning, whatever time it had been. He takes the hint, reaching for both their drinks and setting them on the picnic table before he takes up his charge.

—

Much like her brother, Claire loves barbecue chicken, but she prefers to dip pre-cut slices of the chicken into the sauce over a basted piece of chicken. Rebecca eats it the same way tonight, cutting the chicken breast on her plate before sticking a few pieces on Claire’s high chair tray as they sit around the large table in the garden. 

The meal is fit for a one-year-old. Easy foods that can also be enjoyed by adults even if her mother questions why they can’t just have homemade macaroni and cheese when Claire lights up as she sees the Kraft macaroni and cheese from the blue box Henry shipped over with the rest of the gifts he had bought her. The spiral was her favourite of the boxed American macaroni after Henry had introduced her to it when he had been here last. Ted had also cut fruits and made a tabbouleh salad for the adults that Roy complimented him on by taking more than just a serving spoon of the dish. And considering his favourite cuisine is Mediterranean, Ted considers it a big honour. 

Henry is able to FaceTime when they give Claire her little cake Ted had made while she and Rebecca had taken their afternoon nap before the birthday guests arrived. Henry has his own chocolate cupcake that Michelle had picked up from the bakery before getting Henry from school so he could share in the festivities with his sister. She even got one for herself and David as they sat next to Henry at their kitchen table in Kansas.

Claire looks around, slightly confused, as the adults and Henry break into song. Her dark eyes take in the single candle on the cake and she reaches out, a little mesmerised. But Rebecca intercepts her hands, making them clap together, and blows a breath over Claire’s head, snuffing out the flame as the song ends. Claire looks up at Rebecca, wondering what to do next, and Rebecca gestures to the cake frosting.

“You can dig in,” she nods.

Claire is dainty about it. Swiping a finger through and the white buttercream frosting headed straight for her mouth as Roy dishes out the cupcakes to the adults.

Eventually, Claire gets the hang of it. The cake ends up in her mouth as well as her hair and her lap and Rebecca thinks that maybe they should have stripped her down to her nappy since blueberry stains are a bitch to get out of her clothing. But she looks so pleased with herself as she offers her hand up to Rebecca with a little cake and frosting. And when Rebecca leans in, she gets a little cake before Claire smears her little hand against her lips as they both laugh at one another. 

Of course, Keeley captures the entire moment and sends it to the group chat made up of the players and those in the garden. The video and photos getting hearts and crying laughing emojis and various happy birthday Claire texts litter the thread. 

—

Rebecca leans back against Ted as he wraps an arm around her from behind and pulls her in close as he hooks his chin over her shoulder like she usually does to him. 

“You doin’ okay, mama?” He whispers and his lips move to press against her bare shoulder. 

“Mmh,” she hums. “I’m okay right now.” 

It’s the truth, really. She’s tired and still a little nauseous but it can’t be helped. She claims helping with the dishes since her mother and Keeley had taken charge of cleaning Claire up. Beard and Roy righting the garden and grill as she used the tea towel to dry the dishes as Ted washed before they had made their way back outside. 

She felt his hand move a little lower and she placed her hand atop his. Pausing their hands low on her belly and she presses his hand against the warm cotton and linen blend of her dress. 

They watch Keeley and Roy on the picnic blanket under the wisteria. Keeley’s holding tight to Claire’s hands as Claire practices kicking at her bright pink football Keeley had given her for her birthday. Keeley’s and Claire’s laughs echo through the garden as Deborah watches the scene from the lawn chair perched just right to see her granddaughter as she chats about psychics with Beard. 

“Thank you,” she whispers as she turns in his arms. Her arms move to rest over his shoulders and one arm curls so her fingers can play with the short hair at the nape of his neck. 

“For what?” He asks with a quiet hum and wraps his other arm around her waist, hugging her close. 

“Today.” Rebecca shrugs as she looks out to watch Claire once more before she turns back to watch his dark brown eyes take her in. “Our kids.” 

His fingers slip between them and rest on her belly again. She can’t help but melt into him. 

“There ain’t anyone else,” he nods. 

“You know, you’re going to give us away,” she brushes her nose against his own and there’s no reprimand in her tone. 

“Nah,” Ted chuckles, airy and light. “They’re used to me touching my baby. Now I get to touch my baby and our baby. It’s a two-fer. Win-win for this Lasso.” 

She chuckles light and carefree and probably draws attention to them, but by then, she’s kissing him and his hand that’s been like a magnet to her belly for the past six weeks finally moves to squeeze her hips as their garden guests cheer like they’ve won the Champions League trophy.

Although she had done the prep in central London and the transfer in Brighton, all the post-transfer appointments were set up with a clinic in Cobham. Their viability scan to see if the two blood tests were correct and she was indeed pregnant was today. She felt like she was, regardless of still being on the hormone therapy for another few weeks. Two days after Claire’s birthday, the morning sickness became anything but sickness in the morning. Every day around 9:00 pm, Ted would find her over their toilet, heaving up whatever they had eaten. She’d apologise and tell him she really did like dinner despite their baby’s review of the plate. And he would chuckle as he passes her a glass of still water and her toothbrush as she sits against the wall as he flushes the sick away. So, the nightly upending of her dinner has given her a bit of hope, even if she’s frustrated all Ted’s hard work to make her a bland dinner ends up for nought. 

So, they sit at the fancy clinic after she checks herself in and Ted heads to one corner of the room where they won’t disturb anyone if anyone else is coming in. Not likely, since it’s a Sunday, and she’s a special case, but she never wanted to assume she was their only patient getting special appointments. She sits across from them and Claire amuses herself by walking a few steps in her little non-slip socks, holding Ted’s hand until he was all stretched out, and then holding out her hand for Rebecca to grab onto before she walks back and forth on wobbly feet a few times. The one time Rebecca let go too early, she wobbled for a few steps on her own and fell back on her nappy-covered bum, a little stunned before she giggles heartily and crawls the rest of the length to Ted for a cuddle as he reaches into the knapsack to get a wipe to wipe her hands.

It’s not long until she’s called back into the patient room. Ted was planning to stay out in the waiting room with Claire until the actual ultrasound part, but as soon as Claire noticed Rebecca was missing, little heaving tears and cries of mum allowed the two of them back into the room with Rebecca.

She supposes a dress was either a wise choice or a total disaster, but she sat down on the oversized patient chair as Ted swayed near the door with Claire, the nerves returned. It doesn’t help that she has to have a full bladder again. 

The standard checkup is rote at this point, having done it every other week at the clinic in central London. She winces as the nurse holds the stethoscope too close to her breast to listen to her lungs. 

“Sorry, they're sore today,” she whispers to the nurse before taking a deep breath in and out. 

“Happens all the time, really,” the nurse smiles softly as she moves the scope to Rebecca's back. “It’s a good sign for all of you intended mums.”

Rebecca hums.

The rest of the checkup is simple enough. Ted looks away as the phlebotomist comes in to take a blood draw. And, then, her nerves return as the ultrasound technician rolls in the equipment and the obstetrician slips in.

Rebecca closes her eyes as the transducer is inserted all at once. And, it's only a few seconds of uncomfortable pressure before she doesn’t even register it because the monitors flicker on and it allows her to look at the inky blackness that turns a white-ish grey before there’s a clear, tiny bean-shaped thing in the middle of the dark bubble. 

“Well,” the obstetrician says with a knowing smile as she looks at Rebecca who can’t tear her eyes away from the monitors, “congratulations mum and dad. You’re almost eight weeks along according to the measurements. Everything looks good. Growth is right on track. Are you ready for the heartbeat?”

Rebecca finally tears her gaze away from the monitor and looks up to Ted who is at her shoulder, Claire on his hip, and his free hand cupping the top of her head.

“Are you ready, baby?” Ted whispers.

Rebecca nods quietly, the paper behind her head crinkling as she nods.

The obstetrician nods to the technician, and then there’s a whooshing, train-like sound that they had first heard in that hotel room in Burnley.

It's Ted’s reverent holy smokes, Rebecca, that makes the tears fall as he presses his lips to her forehead.

Claire looks around for the source of the noise and Ted chuckles.

“That’s your baby brother’s heartbeat, Claire bear,” he tells her as he points to the screen.

“He’s stuck around,” Rebecca whispers as she sniffles and laughs as she watches the look of wonder on Ted’s face match the look Claire has and what she remembered when Henry listened to when they brought him to see Claire for the first time. And, she feels an almost giddy nervousness at the thought they can do it all again soon when Henry is here at their next appointment in a few weeks. 

“Yeah, baby, he has,” Ted leans in again. This time, he presses his lips to hers, soft and reassuring, and over far too quick for her tastes. But they’re also not alone.

When they get back home and Claire is down for the count thanks to a quiet car ride back home, he can’t help but head towards their room as Rebecca puts Claire in her crib. His hands still hold the sonogram photos he had taken out of the envelope. Tracing Rebecca’s name in the left corner, a sense of content joy washed over him as he takes one of the sonogram printouts and sticks it next to the one of their baby girl taken a few weeks ago and sent by post to them from Brighton. 

“Happy Father’s Day, my love,” Rebecca whispers as she curls her arms around him and leans her chin on his shoulder, her head tilting towards his.

He wraps one hand around her arms that loop around his waist, the other hand pushing ever so slightly to the right so the two sonograms overlap a little as they sit on her night stand so it's the first thing they see when they wake up. His annual days to celebrate being a dad keep getting better and better.

—

She’s in their kitchen with Keeley’s wedding binders spread out like the Premier League schedule and transfer roster usually is every summer as Keeley flips through colour schemes for a final time. Keeley knows she’s sort of late to make the final decisions in July for a September wedding, but it’s not like she’s going to have a grand wedding like the royals or anything. Plus, Rebecca had told her and Roy that she could have anything they needed to be expedited with a simple phone call. 

“I mean, obvs we’re going to have something pink,” she says mostly to herself as Rebecca makes Keeley’s tea at the countertop island. “But I don’t know what colour pink would be good for an autumn wedding.” 

“What about a dusty rose? Or a pale pink? A few shades lighter than the biscuit boxes? A light mauve? I’m sure I have a blouse or there’s something from Claire's closet that has the colour I’m thinking.” 

“But that’s your colour, babe,” Keeley turns in the chair at the kitchen table and grins. 

Rebecca looks over and rolls her eyes. 

“I give you my permission to use my pinks, then,” Rebecca teases with a laugh. “Because I’d look right fit in a pink gown.”

“Ted might lose his shit but, yeah, you would,” Keeley giggles. 

Rebecca finishes making the tea for Keeley and then pauses as she thinks the next part of the conversation might be better suited without a liquid nearby. 

“Speaking of your wedding and the dresses,” Rebecca’s hand moves to smooth her hair that’s in a messy bun as Keeley looks at her with curiosity. “What are your feelings on a pregnant maid of honour?”

“That would be so cute, could you imagine,” Keeley turns back around to the table of binders as she comments and then trails off. 

Rebecca watches as Keeley turns to face her, processes her words, and then puts two and two together. 

“Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit, Rebecca,” Keeley vaults from her chair and Rebecca moves away from the counter as Keeley comes and wraps herself around Rebecca like a baby monkey. 

“You’re pregnant?!” Keeley squeals in a pitch that Rebecca’s sure dogs could hear. 

Rebecca winces at the volume but nods her head.

“Holy shit. This is incredible. Oh my god. I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

Rebecca chuckles as Keeley sniffles as she finally releases herself and she looks up at Rebecca.

“Fuckin’ happy tears, I promise,” Keeley tells her as she almost sobs against Rebecca’s t-shirt. “Tell me everything. Can I see?”

“We’re just past ten weeks,” Rebecca’s left hand moves over her t-shirt. "We had the first ultrasound on Father’s Day, and we’ll have another one when Henry’s here that we’re going to take him to see.”

“How the fuck do you stay so fit running a damn football club,” Keeley whispers as her fingers press into Rebecca’s belly. It feels like a solid wall of muscle.

“There’s not much to see right now but Ted says he can see a tiny swell when I’m laying down due to all the bloating that’s happening as I finish off the last of these hormone injections.”

“Why the fuck are we standing then? Let's do this wedding shit in bed.”

“You have three binders of stuff. Our bed is big but not that big.” 

“Oh, who the fuck cares. Roy would be happy getting married in a kebab shop. I need to know everything. Oh my god, do you have those tiny little photos? Can I see?” 

“It was during the breaks last season,” Rebecca moves Keeley and herself backwards towards the island countertop again and puts Keeley’s tea beside her. The younger woman snatches it from the counter and sips. 

“Your cuppas are always so bloody good.” 

Rebecca smiles softly. 

“When we were going through the process with Claire, I had come home one day to a bouquet of snowdrops. They’re supposed to symbolise hope. I gave him a bouquet of them when I proposed we try again.” 

“Hah, propose,” Keeley interjects with a laugh and Rebecca rolls her eyes. 

“My GP outlined the risks again, but I asked Ted if he’d be okay if we tried. We went to another specialist and they didn’t think it was impossible, but once again, said the chance was low. But, we did it anyway. I had my IUD taken out the next morning and I was going through the cycle and the hormone therapy almost two months later. I was a right fucking mess for a few months. Still, to be honest.” 

“When the fuck did you have time?”

“We did the transfer on May 9th. We left Claire with my mum and by that afternoon I was growing this little guy.” 

“Holy shit. Wait, little guy. Is that supposed to be ‘I don’t know girl or boy, so I’m going to call it a little guy’ or is it a little boy?”

“It’s a boy. Well, all tests have concluded it’s a boy until we can confirm with the anatomy scan down the road.” 

“That fucking adorable. Henry’s going to be excited, yeah?”

Rebecca bites her lip. 

“What, babe?”

“Well,” Rebecca runs her hand over her belly. Thumb brushing the slight bloat she can feel below her belly button. “The chance he was even supposed to stick, let alone stick around, was so low we asked our old surrogate, Emily, if she could carry again for us.” 

“No,” Keeley whispers excitedly.

Rebecca bites her lip as she nods. 

“She’s just barely ahead of me in all of these milestones. All tests indicate she’s carrying a girl. So, one of each if they both stick around. Another couple weeks and I can clear the fertility clinic and can go find an obstetrician we like for the rest of the term,” Rebecca tells her with a soft smile. 

“How’s Ted?”

“He can’t wait to tell Henry, but we’ve decided to wait until we’re in the clear so we’ll tell him before the barbecue with the boys. But with the whole wedding thing, I didn’t want to ruin it for you by possibly being pregnant if he sticks around for the whole term.” 

“Of course he is sticking around. They both are. Who wouldn’t want to be inside Rebecca Welton like all the time,” Keeley winks. “It’s my fantasy that Ted lives on what I assume is close to a daily basis. And now baby boy Welton-Lasso for the next, like, thirty weeks or whatever gets to be all cosy inside mummy.” 

“Jesus christ on a bike. I love you, but you’re impossible.” 

“I love you, too, babe. And, as for your question, you’re going to look so fuckin’ fit. You may even outshine me if you get that pregnancy glow working at picture time. Posh bitch.” 

Rebecca giggles and finally reaches for her water glass, taking a sip. 

“How are you feeling? You’ve clearly hid everything well but I take it you’re not out of the first trimester then if it's only been ten weeks?”

“Morning sickness is a joke because it’s more like evening and twilight. But it’s one of many signs he’s sticking around so I can’t be too upset. My breasts are sensitive, and not in a fun way. They feel like cannonballs on the best of days and I swear they’ve grown. I’m so tired I often nap with Claire. All I can say is that I’m glad we’re doing this first trimester thing in the offseason because I feel like shit.” 

“Oh, shit. Your beautiful breasts are going to look right fit. God, I can’t wait.”

Rebecca shakes her head. 

“Can we talk less about my boobs and being inside me and get back to why we’re here in my kitchen in the first place,” Rebecca teases with a sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll just wait to talk to Ted since he’s the more experienced one on those subjects anyway.” 

“Right. I’m leaving to have a nap and you can deal with your wedding.” 

“No, babe. Stay. We’ll talk about boring wedding shit. Help me pick a pink then. Wait, we can do this in your bed if you’re actually tired. I don’t mind if you fall asleep on me.” 

Rebecca takes a moment to look at Keeley and nods. Keeley takes a moment to grab an enormous binder from the table and stick it under her arm as she sips her tea with the other hand before she follows Rebecca up the stairs. 

Keeled begs off the binder to Rebecca when she notices the sonograms on the night stand. Her eyes welling with tears and spilling over as she finds the sonogram that has Rebecca’s name. 

“I’m just so fucking excited for you, babes,” Keeley whispers as she leans against Rebecca. 

Rebecca whispers her thanks, chuckling through her own choked up tears as Keeley makes her lay flat on the bed and lifts her shirt up, laying on the bedspread and confirming that from this angle, there definitely is a right fucking fit little baby bump. 

When Ted gets home with Claire from their market run, he finds Rebecca asleep in their bed, hand over her belly. Keeley is asleep beside her on Rebecca’s side of the bed, hand over Rebecca’s and a binder wedged between them. 

Claire makes a shushing noise and Ted nods in agreement. He’ll let the two sleep a little longer before he calls Roy and asks if they just want to do dinner here. 

—

Since Henry was travelling with his grandmother, they were able to meet the two outside the airport terminal rather than meeting him at the gate and having to go through customs. They hadn’t even left the house until Henry texted Ted that they had landed thanks to his travel companion this time around since international customs always holds the majority of the wait time when they pick Henry up. 

Rebecca’s heart melted as Henry ran up to Ted to sneak a peek at Claire who hadn’t lasted long after a slight meltdown after realising she left her blanket in the car. His contagious grin turned into a slight frown but he gave his father a side hug and Ted used his free hand to hug his son and then muse his hair. 

Rebecca pushed away from the railing she had been leaning back against and grabbed Henry’s abandoned wheelie luggage, greeting Ted’s mother as the older woman pulled her in for a hug which Rebecca returned after a slight pause. She might be used to showing affection through touch to Ted, Claire, Henry, and Keeley, but for almost everyone else, she’s still a work in progress.

Henry sides up to her after a moment and hugs her. And she wraps an arm around him and leans down to press a kiss on the top of his head.

“Hey, bud, you want to squish between Gram and Claire in the middle seat or do you want us to use the back seats and have you sit and guard the luggage?” Ted asks as he nods to the exit of the arrivals area.

“I can sit in the boot?” Henry giggles at his use of the British term and looks up at Rebecca for confirmation.

She nods. They’ve rarely used the two seats that make up the very back of her technically seven-seat Range Rover Sport. The five seats are usually quite enough for their family of four. But with Ted’s mother visiting, she’s taking the seat Henry usually uses.

“Yeah, the boot,” Henry grins at the prospect.

Ted nods and attempts to take his mother’s luggage, but she ducks out of the way, informing him he has precious cargo and she is very capable of rolling her own luggage to the car.

“Well, we were thinking of letting you grab showers and then maybe show Gram around Richmond and have lunch at the pub. Then we’ll have dinner with Nana back at our house. Sound good?”

Ted’s mother nods and Henry’s grin widens at the prospect of having both his grandmothers in the same space.

At the SUV, Ted puts Claire into her carseat as Rebecca opens the boot, showing Henry what button to press to make the right seat pop up. It's also easier for him to get in and out from the boot rather than wait at the middle row for the seats to go down and then back up.

“This is so cool,” he whispers as Ted shuts the door and he leans over the middle seat to watch Claire sleep as his grandmother gets in on the other side of the vehicle after dropping her luggage near Rebecca.

“All right, scoot your boot on over so I can stick the luggage in and we can head home,” Ted tells Henry as Rebecca hands the boy his knapsack to hold before she rounds the car to the driver’s seat.

When they get home, Ted gives a tour to his mother as Henry showers and Rebecca and Claire sit on the couch in the sitting room. Claire had woken up when the car stopped in the driveway and Rebecca attempted to gently pick her up to carry her inside to finish her nap while Henry and Ted’s mother showered. She eyed her grandmother as Rebecca led them inside, the face new to her as she tucked herself into her mother’s hold.

The walk around Richmond Green and lunch at the Crown and Anchor was a success. Ted’s mother getting along with Mae, like a house on fire, Ted informed Rebecca with a chuckle as Claire shared the chicken strips and chips meal with Henry as she sat in Rebecca’s lap and continued to not so subtly eye the new face.

Deborah Welton had come over after they all settled back at the house. The two grandmothers meeting for the first time and Rebecca holds her breath until Deborah introduces herself just like she had with Mae, and Ted’s mother thanks her for considering Henry as one of her own.

After dinner, Henry and Claire open up a gift, so to speak. Henry had helped pick the new kits for the season and Rebecca had told him that they had arrived at the club the other day. He had his sister in mind when he selected Zoreaux’s and O’Brien’s kit colours, as yellow seems to be the colour she’s most drawn to lately. 

“Oh, cool. It’s like the Dandelion crayon they used to make,” Henry says as he opens the top of the box and finds the keeper kit sample drawings at the top. He sets the card down gently and finds actual kits, and he lights up at the prospect.

“Me?” Claire asks as Henry pulls out a Welton 01 kit top in the dual Richmond blue and Richmond red.

“No,” Henry tells her as he holds it up and then drapes it over her with a laugh. “That’s Rebecca’s.” 

Claire shakes off the kit and furrows her brow. 

“It’s mummy’s,” Henry points to Rebecca. “You can give it to mummy.”

Claire looks at the kit at her feet and then up to Rebecca who leans into Ted on the couch.

“It's okay. Mummy can get her kit later. Keep looking at the samples with Henry,” Rebecca nods her chin to Henry who is already moving on.

Henry pulls out Lasso 02 in their away kit colours. A white side with the other side a half-and-half blend of Richmond red and Richmond blue. 

“Me?” Claire uses her little grabby hands to reach for it. 

“Nope. It’s dad's kit.” 

Claire looks up to Ted. 

“It’s okay, bear. I can get it later.”

Henry grins as he finally reaches his kit. The Lasso 03 is a familiar kit nowadays. The colour is new for his kits, the Richmond goldenrod colour he selected for the home colour of the goalkeeper kits, is Claire’s current favourite colour rather than his favourite colour.

Claire watches as Henry puts his kit top on over his shirt. 

“Me?” Claire wonders. 

“Here, this one’s yours,” Henry pulls out Welton-Lasso 04 . “Do you want me to help? We can be twins!”

Rebecca chuckles as Claire leans over and lets Henry stick her head through but starts to fuss as he tries to finagle her arms through. 

“Let me get it,” Ted motions for Claire to come close and Rebecca leans away from him before he scoops Claire up and presses a kiss to her cheek to get her to laugh as he pulls her arms through. 

Henry frowns as he sees another kit top, pulling it out and facing the back of the kit towards himself. It’s smaller than Claire’s and matches Rebecca’s colour scheme. He looks over at his dad and then Rebecca and back to the Welton-Lasso 05. 

Rebecca looks between the grandmothers who are watching the scene intensely. Small grins on their faces as they’ve put two and two together. 

Claire, satisfied the kit is properly on, toddles back to Henry’s side and peeks into the box, hands grabbing for the other kit that matches Ted’s own colour scheme. And Rebecca watches Henry continue to work the puzzle as he sees Welton-Lasso 06 on the back of the one Claire whips around.

“Five and six,” he ruminates. And then it finally clicks. “Another baby?”

His eyes are wide as they flick between Rebecca and Ted. 

“Well, bud, looks like you get two babies,” Ted nods to the two little kits. 

“A brother?” Henry wonders. 

“Brother and sister,” Ted confirms. 

“Is it the same lady who helped with Claire?”

Claire looks up at her name, curious brown eyes tracking Henry as he looks at Ted.

“Yeah, she’s helping us carry your sister. But, uh, your brother is in Rebecca’s belly.”

“You got me a brother?” Henry asks quietly as he looks at Rebecca.

Rebecca nods with a quiet laugh and she watches as Henry’s various emotions pass through his face. And just like that time in the clinic in Brighton when he saw Claire for the first time, he seeks her out, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and she lets him crawl into her lap as she hugs him back, whispering it's okay to feel big feelings and she loves him.

Claire, not one to be left out, wobbles over on her feet and fusses until Ted takes the hint, plopping her onto the couch cushion between himself and Rebecca so she can fall into Rebecca’s side and put her hand next to Henry’s where his hand sits atop the slight, barely-there swell of Rebecca’s abdomen after Henry’s cries had subsided and Rebecca asked if he wanted to feel where his brother was growing.

If Deborah Welton happens to capture the moment, and the moment her daughter reaches out to Ted, her fingers curling against Ted’s cheek and looks at her partner like he’s given her the greatest of gifts as both their children have their hands on her growing belly, she’s only going to print out a few dozen to put around her flat and their home.

“He came to the scan yesterday,” Rebecca watches as Keeley traces the little outline of the two babies on the sonograms as the younger woman lounges on the end of hers and Ted’s bed as Rebecca stands on her side of their walk-in closet. 

“Oh, I bet that was cute,” Keeley manages to look away from the black and white photos back up to Rebecca. 

“Mmh,” Rebecca agrees as she pulls a dress from the rack of her closet and holds it up to herself, turning to the full-length mirror. “It’s sort of a tradition. We left Claire with Ted’s mum during her nap time and went to the clinic. Instead of ice cream and fish and chips at the shore, we got ice cream and a chip butty and went to the green.”

“God, I haven’t had a chip butty in ages.” 

“Last night, Ted started to wonder if I’d crave anything American after I told him the same thing. Henry loved his but thought it’d be great with barbecue sauce.” 

“As long as we’re all in agreement mayonnaise is the best on a chip butty.” 

“Brown gravy,” Rebecca counters. “Or strawberry jam.” 

Keeley starts to laugh and Rebecca raises a brow. 

“I love it’s starting already and you don’t even realise it.” 

Rebecca thinks back to what she just said and huffs with a roll of her eyes. 

“I despise strawberries.” 

“We know, babe. I think every brunch place this side of the Thames knows if Rebecca Welton is asking for fruit, don’t include strawberries,” Keeley continues to laugh. “That’s all baby Lasso.”

“Oh, god. Now I want one with fucking strawberry jam,” Rebecca sighs as she hangs up the dress and puts her hands over her face. 

“Oh shit,” Keeley whispers to herself as she climbs off the bed and carefully approaches the closet. 

“Babe. If I go get strawberry jam from Waitrose, do you want me to pick up some chips from that pub just down the street?”

Rebecca nods, refusing to look at Keeley. 

“Okay. Babe. I’m going to go get the shit. You just get dressed in something that shows off your cute little bump since it’s just me, Beard, and Phoebe hanging out with you guys today. Okay?”

She can hear Rebecca’s fine and nods to herself, backing out of the room and already on the phone with the pub down the road since Waitrose is only a few blocks further. 

Ted makes his way into the kitchen and frowns in confusion as he watches Rebecca’s face as she spreads strawberry jam onto a piece of white bread. There’s a white takeaway bag at her elbow and if his nose doesn’t deceive him, it’s a bag of french fries… chips, whatever. 

“You doing okay?” Ted asks cautiously as he rounds the island countertop. 

“No,” Rebecca sighs as she points with the end of the knife to the strawberry jam. “I had Keeley go out and buy this horrid jam because all I want is a chip butty with strawberry jam. You know how I feel about strawberries.” 

Ted nods carefully. 

“I’m going to take full ownership of that one. Sorry.” 

“I thought these weren’t supposed to happen yet. I’m not even out of the being sick at random hours of the day but especially at night stage. God. I was telling Keeley about Henry yesterday and then I thought about a chip butty and,” she trails off, gesturing to the half-made sandwich. 

“You want me to finish making this? Claire wanted to show you her tower that she made outta wood chips with Beard-o.” 

She abandons the prep station as Ted leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek.

It was barbecue preparation day and Beard had been here since the early morning. She had a queasy stomach and wouldn’t be in the kitchen today. The smell of raw meat sending her to the loo a few times over the past day and a half. Before he started the prep, Beard had made her a special decaffeinated tea blend. Something light and lemony and it helped quell the nausea as she escaped the kitchen to go check on Henry and Claire to see if they were up and ready to help their dad and uncle get ready for the barbecue. 

Out in the garden, she finds her mother lounging on one of the deck chairs, taking in the scene before her behind a dark pair of sunglasses. Keeley, Henry, and Phoebe are playing one-touch by the wisteria, Henry’s laugh is carefree and loud as Keeley overshoots and he has to run to get the ball before it hits the fence. Ted’s mother is over at the grill area with Beard and Claire. As Beard talks at Claire with a little wood chip in hand, she can see the older woman shake her shoulders in a silent chuckle. Rebecca can’t hear what’s being said, but Claire’s big brown eyes are soaking up every word of whatever Beard is telling her. Starting toward the two, she hears the last part of Beard's story on the superior wood for barbecue being hickory, not mesquite. 

“Are you sure you want Claire to be your barbecue apprentice? She gets ornery at the drop of a pin,” Rebecca asks as Beard hands the wood chip to Claire, pointing to the small stack. 

“She’s a captive audience.”

They both watch as she puts the wood chip on the spot where Beard indicated and then looks up at Beard. He gave her a thumbs up and she giggled before turning her attention to her mother. 

She mutters mum over and over, pointing as she babbles in a language all her own.

Rebecca takes up Beard’s spot on the ground, sitting cross-legged in the grass a little ways away from the smoker and the grill as Claire babbles to the wood chips. She replies with encouragement and questions, getting babbles as an answer. 

She leans back on her hands as Claire takes a few wood chips from her pile and stacks them on her knee. One hand curves over the soft swell of her belly, made more prominent as she sits and more visible with the rust-coloured short romper she wears after her slight meltdown about the chip butty in the closet. 

Ted comes out with a plate and her chip butty, a water bottle in his back pocket. 

“A butty, baby,” Ted frowns at his alliteration, handing over the plate. “A sandwich for my sugar bear.” 

“No,” Rebecca shakes her head. 

“Sugar?” He asks as he hands over the water. 

“You’re midwestern, not southern.” 

“Sugar mama?”

“No.” 

“Even if it’s true?” Ted points out. 

She looks up, pursing her lips, and notices the smirk on his face. She lifts her arm to smack his leg, but he darts out of range, laughing as he checks in on his mother. 

Rebecca settles the plate on her leg, balancing the small plate as she picks up the snack. Although she can smell the strawberry jam, which makes her stomach turn, she takes a bite anyway and makes the same note of pleased satisfaction she had made back when Ted had brought her the biscuits and those chocolate truffles from Liverpool. Apparently, the noise draws Claire’s attention away from Beard as he develops some sort of support for Claire’s wood chip tower and she takes a few teetering steps, giggling as she crashes into Rebecca. 

Claire’s 'mum, please' sounds more like 'mum, peas' and Rebecca can’t help but laugh as Claire takes a bite of the strawberry jam chip butty and then asks for more. 

“You may look like me with your daddy’s eyes, but you certainly don’t have my taste buds if you enjoy this particular butty, my little love,” Rebecca breaks off a corner of the butty when Claire asks for more again. Handing the piece to Claire, she uses both hands to grab the food and proceeds to plop down in Rebecca’s lap to eat.

“Oh god, that’s fuuu… adorable,” Keeley says as she starts to bring her phone out of her back pocket. A quid comes out and she slaps it into Phoebe's outstretched hand. The one-touch with Henry paused as he runs into the house to grab water for all of them. 

—

She registers the shuffle of the sheets and feels his warmth move away before she feels the brief tickle of coarse hair against her belly. 

“Good morning, my little doughnut hole,” Ted whispers as he presses his lips to the slight swell of Rebecca’s belly. 

“What the hell are you on about?” Rebecca whispers through her laugh.

“According to the website, baby boy is the size of a doughnut hole and baby girl is the size of a mixed tape,” he comes out from under the sheets and his hair is a mess, static cling and he had clearly been sleeping on the barbecue watch if the left side of his hair being pressed into a multitude of directions meant anything. 

“Did you survive Claire’s help?”

“Oh, she was a hoot,” Ted chuckles to himself. “All I can say is, she and Henry might be our little double trouble duo. And, you add Phoebe? Their little minds. Way too many giggles in the little tent last night.” 

Since Roy had been in charge of the mashed potatoes for the second year in a row and his sister had the overnight shifts in the emergency department, Phoebe and Keeley had spent yesterday at the Welton-Lasso household. And when Phoebe heard there was an opportunity to have a camp out in the garden, she had Keeley FaceTime Roy so they could both put on their best pouts and ask to have a sleepover. 

“Did you really leave Beard all alone with the trio of trouble?”

“Nah, Grams, Nana, and Keels are keeping an eye out. Well, Claire might be terrorizing Beard-o at this point. I think we may have produced a little fae who loves the outdoors more than being indoors. She’s been Beard’s sidekick for a bit. I might get replaced by my own little minion.”

Rebecca rubs her forehead and watches as Ted frowns. 

“You okay?”

“Surprisingly. Small headache, though. Almost made it the whole night without running to the loo.” 

Ted lays down next to Rebecca and she shuffles over as his fingers seek out her warm skin, palm pressed against her belly. 

“I’m not sure who is more excited about today, your mom or Henry,” he points out as her hand settles over his. 

“Not going to include yourself in the running?” She teases with a soft laugh as he presses a few kisses to her neck.

“No, ma’am,” he chuckles. “Kinda can’t compete with outta this world excited. Ooh, you think the boys would enjoy getting a doughnut hole as our announcement today? Quick question, do you all have doughnut holes?”

“Ted, please stop talking about fried foods at six o’clock in the morning.” 

“You hungry? Or not feeling swell?” He asks as his hands wander over her belly. 

“I’m fine,” she grabs his wrist and pauses the motion. “But with our children and guests otherwise occupied, there is a little pregnancy symptom you can help me with.” 

“Ooh,” he hums as she moves his hand lower on her belly still.

She hums.

“You are the brains of this operation,” he confirms. “But, uh, hold that thought because I forgot to lock the door and Claire’s got your height genes and one of these days she is gonna get the handle and just walk in.” 

“Keeley will be behind her, you know. With her camera. I think it’s on her goal list to get us on camera.” 

“Yep, yep,” Ted agrees as he moves from the bed. He listens to her chuckle as he throws the lock before shedding his hoodie and jeans and climbing back into bed. 

—

When Rebecca does emerge from their room after leaving Ted to finish the shower by himself, Claire is at her high chair, smacking her hand against the tray as Henry attempts to feed her yoghourt and fruit. Rebecca chuckles and Keeley turns from her spot at the island. 

“Where is my mum?” Rebecca asks. 

“Oh, she went with Ted’s mum to get some stuff to make homemade rolls for the barbecue.” 

“Oh.”

“Babe, if you were planning on not announcing until later, the whole properly ploughed glow you’re sporting look sort of adds to your whole announcement,” Keeley whispers. 

“Good morning to you, too,” Rebecca laughs, hand moving along her belly as she passes Keeley to head for the kitchen table. 

“Hi, my little love,” she greets Claire as she shouts mum and grins at her, mouth full of yoghourt. 

“Oh, no, mummy doesn’t like yoghourt and baby doesn’t like the smell,” she tells Claire when she offers up the hand that got past Henry and into the yoghourt container. 

“Good morning, Henry. Phoebe,” she runs a hand down Henry’s back and winks at Phoebe. 

“Morning,” they both greet her. 

“How was the cook out?” She asks as she wrinkles her nose, stepping away from Claire and Henry. 

“It was wonderful,” Phoebe sighs happily. “Can I come back next year?”

“It’s up to your mum and your uncle,” Rebecca reminds her. “But I think it would be okay if they approve.” 

Phoebe grins. 

As Rebecca moves back to the island and sits next to Keeley, Claire protests with a yip and raises her voice. 

“Claire,” Rebecca looks over and Claire pauses. “Mummy will get sick all over you and your brother if I stand close to that yoghourt. You have to finish and daddy’s going to have to get cleaned up and then I can hold you.” 

Claire’s face turns pitiful and she starts to cry, turning pink, and Henry turns to her with wide hazel eyes. 

“Henry, it’s okay,” Rebecca whispers. “I’m just going to need you to throw that in a zip bag and then into the outside bins near the garages.” 

He nods and washes the spoon off in the sink, setting it down, before he finds the zip bags in the pantry and does as she asks. 

Keeley, in the meantime, abandons her perch and finds a towel, wiping at Claire’s face and hands as she cries harder at the material moving across her delicate skin. 

“Sorry, baby girl. But I’m new at this,” Keeley whispers. “Shit.” 

Keeley notices Claire’s breakfast is beyond just her face and fists. 

“Strip her and stick her in the sink and I’ll come and get her.” 

Rebecca’s thankful that one of her and Ted’s quirks is that the sink is deep cleaned after all the dishes are done each night.

“Phoebe, can you put that spoon in the dishwasher and make sure it doesn’t smell like yoghourt and start the warm water?” 

Phoebe gets up, her face frowning as she passes Claire, but following Keeley’s directions. 

Keeley pulls the high chair tray out a little, just enough to get her hands on the buttons of Claire’s onesie and slips it over her little head. 

“Shit,” Keeley whispers again as she catches Claire’s ears and she cries harder. “God, babe. I’m fucking up your child. She’s going to hate me forever.” 

“It’s okay, Keeley. Just get her in the sink and I’ll take over if you want to get her bath stuff from her washroom.” 

Keeley drops the yoghourt covered onesie onto the floor, unfastening the little sticky swatches on Claire’s nappy before she dumps the naked, screaming baby into the sink. She uses the water spout to get some of the yoghourt off and Rebecca comes to stand beside her, fingers running through the water to check the temperature before she plugs the drain and quietly thanks her friend. 

Claire looks up with big, sad, watery brown eyes, and then she coos, realizing her mother is finally by her side. Starting to hiccup from her fit. 

“Fuck, babe,” Keeley leans against the countertop. “I don’t think I’m cut out for motherhood if this can happen. I’m going to get her bath stuff. Phoebes, want to come?” 

“My little love,” Rebecca whispers as she cups the warm water and lets it trickle out of her hand onto Claire’s belly, “you didn’t have to terrify everyone to get loves from mummy.” 

Claire’s toes wiggle in the water and she babbles, reaching for them. 

“You just can’t have yoghourt until at least the end of January if you want time with mummy in the morning.” 

“Sorry, Rebecca. I didn’t know,” Henry whispers as he stands in the kitchen entryway. 

“Henry, I didn’t even know until this morning that yoghourt was a no,” Rebecca turns briefly to face him before turning back to Claire. “Come here.” 

Henry moves quietly, standing by her side, and Rebecca frees up an arm to wrap around his shoulders as she holds Claire upright with the other.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, my sweet boy. You tried helping me and your dad out knowing Claire is a demanding little princess when it comes to food.” 

She can feel Henry laugh as he wraps his arms around her waist and holds himself close. 

“Thank you for helping. We’ll just keep yoghourt away until the new year.” 

“Okay,” Henry’s voice is muffled against her dressing gown. 

“You want to help with bath time or do you want to show Phoebe and Keeley where the guest room shower is so you all can get ready for the day?”

“I’ll show ‘em.”

“Okay. Go show them. Make sure there are extra towels for Phoebe and Keeley, okay?” Rebecca asks as he slips away and motions for Phoebe to follow him as she snuck into the kitchen without her aunt.

“Mama time?” Ted asks as he crowds her space, his arm wrapping around her waist after watching her for the last few minutes with Henry and then when she thought she was alone with Claire. 

He sets Claire’s little towel and her bath kit on the counter next to the sink before he wraps his now free arm around her, too.

“We can’t keep yoghourt in the house right now.” 

“Gotcha. Keels handed me that and told me there’s a mess of yoghourt I gotta clean so it’s now making sense.” 

He’s brought their sheets down and she knows he’ll just add the onesie to the mix. 

She can hear him chuckle as he surveys the disaster, listening to her hum as Claire plays with her toes as Rebecca gives her a sink bath.

Afterwards, she climbs the stairs, humming as Claire grumbles against her shoulder. Going through the motions of putting on a new nappy, lotioning Claire up, and sticking her in a cute little romper continues to soothe the baby. But Rebecca has a sneaking suspicion Claire won’t let her out of her sight today. 

Henry sneaks into Claire’s room, leaning against the door frame and listening as Rebecca sings quietly to Claire as she’s tucked into a yellow romper and holding her pink knit blanket, laying against Rebecca’s chest. Rebecca catches him in the entryway, nodding her head to come in and she holds the hand that isn’t rubbing Claire’s back out to Henry. And he takes it after crossing the room. 

He sits next to the rocking chair, just out of the way as Rebecca rocks the chair slightly. His hand extended above his head as he listens to Rebecca sing. 

“Are you singing Fleetwood Mac?” Henry asks as he listens to the words. 

“Blame your father,” she says in a singsong voice as she continues singing The Chain to Claire. 

She tries putting a half-asleep Claire in her crib, but Claire starts to cry as soon as she’s away from Rebecca’s chest. 

“You want me to get the pouch thing from her closet?” Henry asks. 

“Please.” 

Claire allows Henry to hold her as Rebecca finagles the sling to support Claire and not wreak havoc on her back. Her bump may be small, but it’s starting to throw off her centre of gravity. 

By the time she comes downstairs with Henry and Claire, Claire has dropped into a light sleep.

As they move to the kitchen and Rebecca curls her hand against Claire’s head as it pokes out of the sling, she finds Ted making breakfast with Keeley’s assistance and it’s almost reminiscent of Mother’s Day. Rebecca releases Henry from her side and he heads for the table where Phoebe is helping him with the cards each of the boys will get reminiscent of last Thanksgiving when Henry helped announce Claire to the team. 

—

Emily, John, and their son arrive as the yeast rolls Ted’s mother made are resting. 

“Big morning?” Emily greets as Rebecca opens the door with Claire still sleeping in the sling against her chest. 

“Mmh,” Rebecca nods and clears the doorway for them to step in. “Let’s just preface that yoghourt is not allowed in this house until baby boy makes his appearance. Should we be aware of anything for you?”

“Uh, anything coconut or eggs? Weird, I know. But the curry shop in Brighton has these coconut drinks and we have to get takeaway because this one loves curries, but the smell of coconut is a no unless it’s the small amount of coconut milk used in the curry.” 

Rebecca chuckles. 

“God, sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But all of my cravings have been very Ted-like, so I’m glad she at least showcases the Welton gene.” 

“The guys and Keeley are out in the garden at the grill. My mum and Ted’s mum are in the kitchen finishing up the rolls for the barbecue, I can introduce you. And Henry and Phoebe I think were playing football, if Liam wants to join before the rest of the kids and the team get here in about an hour.”

The team went in on group gifts, which Rebecca was silently thankful for as oddly shaped but perfectly wrapped gifts were set in the sitting room one by one as each gaggle of the team rang the bell.

Henry showed them how to unlock the garden gate near the pergola and a few of the guys took the all the kids over to the Twickenham Tigers training pitch rather than ruin the grass in the garden when Phoebe suggested the boys also help Liam with some skills because he’s almost a league age.

“You sure you don’t want to go with Henry and the boys?” Rebecca asks Claire as she pushes a little tendril of hair back. A resounding no is muffled against her collarbone and Rebecca sighs.

“Ms Welton. Sorry, Rebecca,” she turns at the voice to see it's Sam. “Coach Beard said to give you these.”

He holds up a glass with little lime wedges and a sippy cup.

“Thank you, Sam,” Rebecca takes both from his hands and he nods before he tilts his head and catches Claire’s eye and waves.

“Hello, Claire.”

“She just woke up from her nap.”

“Ah.”

“And we had a yoghurt meltdown earlier.”

“Ah, you see, I get that. When I have no more chin chin, I become, uh, Led Tasso.”

Rebecca laughs as Claire sticks her hand out of the baby carrier to wave back to Sam.

“There she is,” Sam whispers.

“Thank you for the drinks, Sam, but you don’t have to stay here in the garden. Most of the team is at the pitch beyond the gate. You can’t miss them once you’re over there.”

Sam nods and smiles brightly at her before he pats Jamie on the back as Jamie stands with Ted at the grill with what looks to be some shucked corn cobs.

“You know,” Rebecca whispers to Claire. “I am going to have to set you down when we make the announcement to the team.”

—

When they’re all back in the garden, the barbecue goods spread out along the long picnic table, Ted waves Emily over to stand a little closer to the deck where Rebecca stands, sipping her water and holding Claire’s Paw Patrol sippy cup she’d got from Phoebe yesterday.

“You ready?” Ted asks as he holds Claire in one arm and his beer in the other hand.

She nods.

“Hey, hey, fellas.” Ted says as he stands in the middle of the deck, his beer bottle raised above his head. “Come over here. We gotta do a little toasting since it's more than just the team barbecue.”

Ted winks, giving the signal to his son and Henry and Phoebe run into the house, gathering the little tokens they made yesterday, handing one out to each of the boys as they gathered near the deck.

“Henry and Phoebe spent quite a few hours over the past few days making you fellas a little something. If y’all don’t mind waiting until the count of three to open.”

Henry and Phoebe finish handing them out. This year is a little harder than last Thanksgiving since each of the tokens had each player's name and then something for Higgins, Beard, Roy, and Keeley.

They all wait for the count and just like the time before, it's Leslie and Julie Higgins who figure it out first as they watch the players look at the drawings.

Ted can’t help watching Jamie’s reaction. The once former prince prick of all pricks (Roy’s words, not his) traced the child-like drawing of him wearing his AFC Richmond kit with four other little people (if Phoebe helped, she also included herself along with the stick figures of Henry, Claire, and two baby blobs).

“Two, gaffer?” Colin asks as he connects the dots.

“Yep. We’re getting one of those two for one deals,” Ted nods. “But, uh, one more teeny, tiny surprise.”

“That’s why she’s here, in’nt,” Jamie nods to Emily.

“Half of the reason, yeah.” Ted nods. “She carried Claire for us and she agreed to help out again which Rebecca and I are very grateful for.”

Jamie nods.

“But, but, but,” Ted interrupts the chatter and slight cheers. “The teeny, tiny surprise.”

Ted trails off and he lets Rebecca take the centre stage of the deck. She takes a deep breath and her hand unconsciously moves to her abdomen, finding the slight swell.

“I’m pregnant,” she says and she can’t help the smile that blooms on her face as she utters the words out loud to her team.

“Oh, wow,” she hears Sam whisper, and she starts to laugh, as the boys go from stunned silence to whooping and hollering as they’re all pushed out of the way so Keeley can run up and hug Rebecca again. The news never getting old for her despite hearing it again and again.

Each of the boys moves around the garden, congratulating Ted and Rebecca and thanking Emily for helping with Claire and new baby Welton-Lasso before allowing Rebecca to get the first plate of food.

It’s later, when she’s escaped Keeley’s koala status, that Leslie Higgins’ hug and his whispered elation that she gets to experience this for herself which makes her slip from laughing to laughing and crying in his arms. And, he lets her use the handkerchief he carries even in his casual clothing as she apologises for these sodding hormones that have her going insane.

And when Ted and Rebecca linger in the dressing room after he finished giving the first pre-match pep talk as they start the season that next weekend, he notices something in all the lockers. Each of them stuck Henry and Phoebe’s drawings in their locker somewhere. Looking up at the believe sign, he finds a drawing of all twenty-five of the players with Rebecca and Ted at either edge of the line up in the last row. Beard, Roy, Keeley, and Higgins also flanking the team. But in the first row, there are four little people with familiar kit numbers 03-06. #WeltonsBoys (and Girls) is scribbled in the corner. He smiles softly as she looks up, threading her fingers through his own and squeezing.

“They love ‘em already,” Ted whispers with a gentle reverence.

“Come on,” she knocks her shoulder into his. “They’ve promised to win the whole fucking thing this year.”

“Well, we shouldn’t delay that offer, then,” Ted sweeps his free hand and she chuckles before leading him out the dressing room door and over to the stadium to start their season.

The week before Keeley’s wedding, Michelle brings Henry over to London. It’s not that it's strange. She’s well within her rights as his mother to fly with him. It’s just… odd. Rebecca can see Ted’s anxiety rising as he tracks their flight over the usual Biscuits with the Boss (and Claire) before he has to go down for training and she can’t fault him considering the last time his ex-wife was in London, she had asked for a divorce. She’s in a hotel near Trafalgar Square which is a pretty steep taxi ride to Twickenham which is why Rebecca offers her driver and the Rolls-Royce since she’s still shuffling Claire with her to work every day but Tuesdays since she can’t bear the thought of missing a moment of Claire’s ever-expanding vocabulary and milestones.

It's the second day when they’re supposed to have dinner with Michelle. Most of the boys have a gym day and Ted’s out on the pitch with Zoreaux and O’Brien as keepers and Jamie shooting penalties when he hears it.

“Ted,” Rebecca shouts as she opens her window, elongating his name.

“Yeah?” He turns around, watching as she holds Claire in her arms. And he can hear it. The faint 'dada, dada, dada' chant. Other than 'mum,' 'dada' is her favourite chant. And, he’s not sure if Rebecca has a meeting or Claire just wants him, but he’s happy to hoist himself over the railing and up the steps to her office rather than go through the tunnel and up the stairs.

“Hey, baby bear,” Ted hums as Claire’s bucket hat slips forward on her head and covers her eyes as she is exchanged through the window.

“You want her carrier?” Rebecca asks.

“Nah, we can pass you around like a little football,” Ted tells her as he adjusts the hat and familiar brown eyes meet his own. Although, the ones staring back at him sparkle with a mischief that is all Rebecca.

“Text me if she needs to come back inside. She was yelling for you, so,” Rebecca motions to their daughter’s pleased little grin as she claps her hands together.

Rebecca watches as Ted carefully moves through the seats and the stairs. He passes Claire to Jamie so he can hop the barrier, and she can see Claire reach for Jamie’s headband just as Ted takes her back.

Her hand moves over her belly as she keeps the window open and lets Ted’s voice wash over her as she turns to find Higgins giving her a look.

“What?” She asks with a raised brow.

“Motherhood suits you,” Higgins bows his head. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

“Sorry, Higgins,” Rebecca sighs and rubs her forehead with her free hand. “Michelle’s here and Ted’s a little anxious. Claire time helps.”

Higgins nods.

“Hopefully dinner tonight with Michelle and Henry will finally give us some answers.”

—

“I think the courts sometimes get it wrong,” Michelle whispers as she taps the countertop with her fingers before she looks up at Ted. “They always seem to default to the mom being the best option for primary custody when maybe, all along, it’s the dad who’s got the overflowing love in his heart and the supportive partner.” 

Ted opens his mouth and then closes it, taking a moment. 

“I love Henry. God, this isn’t me trying to bow out of being his mom or anything.” 

“That never crossed my mind,” Ted says quickly. 

“I know. It’s just,” Michelle gestures to the garden where Henry seems to be playing what would normally be the easiest game of monkey in the middle if he didn’t play up chasing Claire until she crash-lands into Rebecca’s legs and only then hands her mother the orange ball to keep it from Henry.

“You should hear how much he talks about Claire to everyone back in Kansas,” Michelle smiles softly at the memory. “It was David’s 50th birthday a couple of weeks ago. After your mom and Henry came back. David’s family threw a whole surprise party. And Henry was talking all about the barbecue you all do each summer and how this it was his little sister’s birthday party and his mum’s birthday party, and the team cook out all at once.” 

“He calls her mum?” Ted asks softly. 

“He asked if I would be okay with it when I asked how he would feel if living here was ever an option. He asked if he thought Rebecca would let him call her mum since Claire does and his future brother and sister will, too. I think that was him testing it out after I told him it was okay by me if it’s okay with Rebecca.” 

Ted bites the inside of his cheek. His gentle boy, always thinking of others' feelings before his own. 

“I know it’s a lot with not one but two babies coming. But I thought we needed to talk about this in person, so I came here and I know it’s a big decision you’d need to talk to Rebecca about. So, just, think it over, okay?”

Ted nods. He will. His first instinct is to immediately say yes but it's not just him making big decisions anymore.

“He wanted to have a sleepover if that’s okay. He said Deborah usually takes them on Tuesdays to get their cheeks pinched?”

Ted chuckles.

“Deborah has her various social groups on Tuesdays. And, well, she likes showing off her grandchildren and their little, pinchable cheeks. Although, now that Claire’s in the biting stage, we might want to warn her of that. Lady fingers, beware!”

Michelle shakes her head with a soft laugh.

“I’ll let you break the news. Thank you for dinner. And, tell Rebecca thanks for the car. I don’t think people have stopped whispering and wondering who I am. I don’t think I’ve been in a car worth almost half a million dollars, either.”

“Thanks, Michelle.”

She nods, squeezing his forearm before she goes.

When Rebecca looks up at the garden doors opening, she smiles in relief as Ted’s shoulders are visibly more relaxed. There’s something still there, but it's less than the rest of this week which is a small relief.

“Hey, Hen. You want to have a sleepover tonight?” Ted asks as he stands on the deck.

Henry’s yes is carried through the garden and it makes Claire giggle.

—

“I sense you’re carrying around something other than my biscuits and that fucking terrible jam,” Rebecca points out as Ted digs out the two items and a butter knife from his knapsack and slides them over her desk. 

“Michelle wants us to think about something.”

“Oh?” Rebecca asks as she spreads strawberry jam onto the top of her biscuit. 

“She, uh, wants to know if we’d consider swapping the custody agreement with me and you having primary custody of Henry.” 

Rebecca pauses in chewing her biscuit, setting the larger half on her empty teacup saucer. 

“Primary custody as in he would live with us rather than Michelle?”

“Yeah, he’d go to school here. Do activities and things, and Michelle would get him during the breaks which I guess are a little different here, but I don’t think she’d mind.” 

“Okay,” Rebecca nods and picks up the biscuit again. She only wishes she hadn’t finished her cup of drinking chocolate so quickly. Now she has nothing but water to rid the strawberry jam taste with and that doesn’t help. 

“You don’t want to take a minute or anything? We’re about to have not one but two babies when this needs to happen.”

Ted rounds her desk, slowly moving her chair around to face him rather than the desk and he kneels down.

“Ted, he’s our boy. He’s Claire’s big brother and he is about to have two more siblings who are going to adore him. What else would we need to think about other than what primary school he’d need to be enrolled in and then we can figure it out as we go.” 

Her fingers run through his hair, the tendril falling out of his perfect coif, and she smiles softly at him.

“Figure it out as we go?”

“It’s worked with Claire. It’s worked with these kids that are still growing. Will it be hard? Sure. A learning curve? Of course. But someone I’m awfully fond of once told me if you care about someone and you got a little love in your heart, there ain't nothing you can't get through together. And, my love, I love Henry with my whole heart.” 

Ted licks his lips, nodding as he moves to a half-crouch, talking to himself before he stands up and leans into her space. His hands curl into the arms of her chair as he holds himself above her.

“I know you said no funny business while we’re in the office,” he says as he leans in and presses his lips to hers. “But maybe after your dress appointment with Keeley, we can take a long lunch so I can show you just how much your whole little speech just now meant to little ol’ me.” 

“Mmh,” she hums against him. “As long as we’re back by three for my media briefing.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, pressing his lips against hers again and a third time before he pulls away. 

“God, I love you,” he whispers as his thumb moves across her cheek and then he drops his hand to her growing belly. “Your mama is one of a kind, baby boy.” 

“Love you,” she laughs as Keeley knocks on her door and pops her head in. 

“Babe, I thought we were clear you were going to text me whenever Ted was trying to shag you in the office,” Keeley chuckles as Rebecca lobs her stack of post-it notes over to Keeley as Ted rounds the desk and zips up his knapsack.

“Okay, you ladies have fun. The fellas and I are gonna go break a sweat.”

—

Despite it being her wedding day, Keeley is in Rebecca and Ted’s suite, her palm on Rebecca’s belly as Rebecca eats a piece of toast with grape and strawberry jam on the couch. 

“God this is disgusting. This grape jam phase can’t last long,” Rebecca sighs as she eats another bite of her toast. 

Ted chuckles as he presses a kiss to Rebecca’s temple. 

“You ladies let us know if you need anything else. We’ll be down getting this little lady some breakfast and the zoomies out of her before she had to put on her fancy dress that I hear matches mama. Love you.” 

“Love you,” Rebecca waves as Claire tells her bye-bye. 

Keeley settles her head on Rebecca’s shoulder as Rebecca grimaces as she continues to eat her toast. 

“God, I hope I look half as glowing as you do whenever Roy and I have kids. Like you are going to outshine me today, but I don’t even care.” 

“I could vomit up this piece of toast if you’d like. I’d very much like to do that, actually.” 

“Nah, still wouldn’t counter your post-orgasm and baby incubator glow. Yeah, I can tell you and Ted shagged this morning.”

Crumbs end up on the plate as Rebecca chuckles around the bite she’s just taken. 

“You’re insufferable. But I’ll be honest, the rocking motion helps put the little floppy fish to sleep for a while. Or so we discovered a few days ago,” Rebecca puts the plate of half-eaten toast down. “Okay, I can’t eat any more of that. Did Ted order tea?”

“Yeah, there’s tea here. I’ll get it as a reward to you for that brief glimpse into your sex life,” Keeley hops up and makes Rebecca a cup and makes one herself. 

Rebecca chuckles, putting her hand on her belly and remembering just last week when she finally noticed this feeling like a fluttery flop go by and then another flop a few minutes later. She had a look on her face, apparently, and Ted had pulled up his little weekly pregnancy guide to inform her that was most likely their little pint of ice cream taking his growing limbs out for a spin. 

“God look at you,” Keeley turns back and Rebecca’s hands rest on her bump and she’s smiling softly. “I’m kind of glad you got to experience this even if it’s been wreaking havoc on you.” 

“I’m just thankful my tailor is on standby because I swear I’ve gained a stone since we did the last fittings two weeks ago.” 

Although Rebecca loves her clothes tailored within an inch of their life, this is her first public outing without the protection of her coat and the owner's box or Ted’s ridiculously puffy coat during their two away matches since her belly finally popped and there’s no mistaking she is pregnant from the side if she’s in her usual tailored outfits she wears to matches or to the office. She knows the press will be just outside and she’s nervous, but also thankful Keeley allowed her to pick a dress that allows her to mostly hide the fact she is pregnant when she doesn’t want to be photographed. Today is Keeley and Roy’s day and she’s not going to let the press turn their day into an Old Rebecca headline. 

Keeley brings over the cup of tea and she sits back down next to Rebecca. 

“I still can’t believe you’re halfway to being a family of six. Like, jesus, babe when you go all in, you go all the way the fuck in.” 

Rebecca sips at her tea and sets it on the top of her belly as she holds the handle. 

“I think, when you meet the right person, you just… know.”

“God, that’s true, though.”

—

Rebecca loops her arm around Ted’s own and she reminds Claire to follow Henry’s and Aunt Keeley’s directions before she and Ted line up to cross the threshold and into the event space. 

“You look particularly stunning today,” Ted whispers as they walk down the aisle to where Roy waits in an all-black suit.

Rebecca ended up in a pink gown. A dusty pink colour that coordinated well with the burnt orange, forest green, and burgundy of the three bridesmaids' dresses. True to form, Keeley only allowed Rebecca and Claire the use of Rebecca’s pinks. Although, Phoebe’s and Henry’s ties, the ring pillow, and a few layers of the tulle underneath the skirt of Keeley’s dress were all Rebecca’s pink. 

“You clean up nice yourself,” Rebecca looks over at him and grins. 

“How long do you think Claire will last before she wants up?”

“Well, Keeley’s got it down to about ten minutes so let’s hope she can last that long.” 

When they reach the end of the aisle, he presses a kiss to her cheek before they take their places. 

The gathered audience coos as Phoebe carries the rings on a dusty pink pillow that matches Rebecca’s and Claire’s dresses, followed by Henry and Claire crossing the threshold. Henry holds Claire’s flower basket and shows her how to toss the petals. Instead of listening, she grabs a handful and tries to give them to a few familiar faces as Henry walks with her down the aisle. 

Rebecca looks up to Keeley who is thankfully chuckling behind her bouquet, knowing this is what she gets when assigning a one-year-old the task and she’s a social little butterfly, like her father, when the mood strikes. 

When they reach the end and the flowers are gone, Claire utters 'uh oh, mummy'  and seeks out Rebecca as the music shifts to the wedding march. 

Claire defies the bets, content to sit at Rebecca’s feet as she names the flowers in Rebecca’s bouquet that Rebecca handed to her after getting her situated. Granted, the names keep repeating and don't get past mum, dada, Hen, Nana, a few others, and Rebecca knows Roy and Keeley can both hear her as Keeley fails to hide a laugh and Roy’s face shows his amusement. 

And when it’s all over and vows are said and sealed with a kiss, Keeley will tell Rebecca that Claire helped with the wedding jitters of both herself and Roy. Claire claps and looks up at Rebecca with a wide grin. 

Rebecca passes Keeley back her bouquet and the newly married couple walks down the aisle. As if she knows it’s their turn, Claire holds a hand out for Rebecca and Ted swoops in, picking her up and handing Rebecca her bouquet before offering his free arm and following Roy and Keeley back to the rooms where they’d gotten final looks before starting this whole shindig.

—

The sparkling cider isn’t champagne but it’s nice to have some bubbles to celebrate with as Dani wishes Keeley and Roy 'mucho, mucho joy' and Jamie follows with an actually touching speech where he only tosses out grandad a few times. 

A slightly tipsy Keeley asks Rebecca to dance and Rebecca rolls her eyes for a moment before she takes the proffered hand and moves to the dance floor. 

“Can I touch the baby boy?” Keeley asks as one of her hands pauses in midair. 

“Mmh,” Rebecca nods and Keeley’s hand traces the soft swell of Rebecca’s belly as Rebecca gives her an indulgent smile. 

A few of the boys whoop and Keeley laughs as she snuggles closer to Rebecca as they sway. 

“God, I love you. Thank you for doing this and making adorable fuckin’ babies that steal attention away from me and Roy.” 

Rebecca chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to the top of Keeley’s head. 

“You look like a princess anyway.” 

“But you’ve got the baby boy glow. I imagine all these photos being taken of you and me right now are going to look insanely fit. We need to be in like a wedding magazine or some shit.”

“If you remember this moment, you have my permission to use these insanely fit photos of us when you share with your Instagram friends that you’re finally off the eligible bachelorette list.”

“Oi, I’ll remember,” Keeley points out as she leans a little further into Rebecca. “God, your beautiful breasts make such great pillows.”

Rebecca laughs, holding Keeley a little tighter. Her best friend is always great for a confidence boost.

Roy dances with her after Keeley. He holds her close enough that her belly brushes against him and she whispers an apology, but he won’t have any of that as he knows she’s bloody exhausted and just waiting for Ted to come back from changing a nappy. 

“You don’t have to stay for the whole fucking thing. I sure as fuck wouldn’t stay and it’s my fucking wedding day.” 

Rebecca laughs against his shoulder. 

“Keeley won’t mind?” She wonders. 

“Nah, she knows you’re tired and apologises for keeping you past your bedtime.” 

As if the words are a siren call, Ted comes back into the event space with Claire changed out from her pink flower girl dress to her little lion pajamas. Cake and frosting out of her hair after she had found that weddings let you enjoy cake, too.

“Guess that’s your sign,” Roy nods as he slowly manoeuvres them so she can see what he’s looking at. 

“Congratulations,” Rebecca whispers as she presses her lips to his cheek. “Tell your wife I’ll see her Monday at brunch.” 

Rebecca gives him a final salute and she shrugs Ted’s suit jacket over her shoulders when she reaches their table. She holds out a hand for Henry to take as she double-checks they have everything.

Henry takes her hand and tells her that he’s tired. She smiles softly, pressing her lips to his forehead and musing his hair. 

“We’re headed to bed, my love,” she tells him.

Just before they get into the October table of matches, she can see his shoulder hunch over and she closes her eyes briefly as the half-time whistle blows just in time. 

“Can you watch Claire?” She asks Keeley and Higgins as she motions to the field with her head. 

“Sure, babe,” Keeley agrees as Higgins wordlessly nods. 

Her baby girl is currently bundled in Leslie’s lap, and she’s been asleep for a good five minutes despite the noise of the crowd.

She slowly stands from her seat, her centre of gravity shifting with her as she holds onto the back of her owner’s chair for a moment, and then walks the familiar route to the training pitch dressing rooms where she knows Ted will be along with the team and the rest of the coaching staff. She looks into the manager's office and Beard wordlessly points to the little kit closet off to the side of the dressing room. 

Opening the door, she finds his puffer jacket on the floor and him on a bench next to the clean towels. 

“Ted,” she whispers his name and her hands reach for his knees as she crouches as best as she can. “Ted, my love, just breathe. Deep breath, please.” 

She can hear the short, panicky breaths. 

“Deep breath in for four.” 

Ted registers her voice as he looks down at her. 

“There we go. Ted, breathe with me. In for four, hold for seven. Out for eight.”

He follows her directions a few times. His eyes are a little more focused as she tilts her head to catch his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Anxious. Stressed,” he says quickly. “I don’t know why. It’s… something just came over me.”

“Scoot,” she whispers as she gestures to the tiny bench he’s perched himself on. “My centre of gravity is shot and your son is now up and thinks it’s a league skills clinic date where he needs to show off his kicking skills.” 

Ted barks out a chuckle as he scoots and helps her lift herself up to sit next to him. He closes his eyes as she takes his hand and sticks it under her coat, finding the side of her bump where their baby pokes and prods her insides. 

“Keep breathing for me, please,” she whispers, watching him. 

“Oh,” he says after a few minutes of quiet breathing as she keeps his hand in both of hers as she chases what she can feel. “I could feel that one.” 

“Yeah?” She asks quietly. Ever since she could feel the fluttery, floppy fish feeling, his hand had taken residence wherever she pointed or directed him. But he hadn’t been able to feel it on the outside until this moment. 

He nods. 

“You want to skip on drinks tonight? We can have a quiet night with me, you, and Claire at home.” 

“And boss baby,” he points out. 

“Yes, and our baby boy. He’s sort of packaged with me right now, love.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Ted,” she tries to get him back to the question rather than deflect. 

“You think the fellas would understand?” Ted asks. 

“I do,” she nods. 

“I think I’d like that,” he sighs with relief. 

“I’ll have Beard do post-match press.” 

“I just want to do the post-match pep talk. Don’t want the fellas to think it’s them.” 

She nods. They’re down 3-1 and not expected to win against Chelsea. They’ve been down before but she’s going to guess it’s less the match and more everything else with transferring the custody of Henry despite how smooth things have been so far. Even with Ted now only having British citizenship, since the United States doesn’t allow for dual citizenship on paper, even if Ted identifies as British-American here in their paperwork. Although, he still has his US passport, he’d only use it when travelling with Henry until it expires.

“We’ll meet you back in my office after the whistle then.” 

He nods and holds onto her hand tighter as she shifts. 

“We’ve got ten minutes,” she tells him as she lets him lean against her side, hand still on her bump. “Deep breaths, please.” 

She lets herself take deep breaths in, hoping he’d match her. And he does. She opens the top buttons on her coat and his hand chases the little limbs as she closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. 

It’s only when Beard knocks and points out they’ve got three more minutes, that they stand and exit the room. They follow the boys back to the stadium and she holds his hand the entire way there. And, just before they reach the tunnel, he pauses their stride and buttons up her coat again before giving her a kiss that is only a soft press of his lips against hers before he pulls away with a sure smile. 

“Hey, Gaffer,” she calls out as he moves to the tunnel entrance to follow the team. 

He turns back. 

“We love you,” she reminds him as her hand moves over the top of her coat, resting on top of her bump. 

“Love you, Boss,” Ted winks and Beard salutes her as Ted turns to the pitch to start the second half.  

—

Ted is trying to coax Claire into eating a strawberry with her rice cereal and blueberries with no success when Deborah uses her key and walks into the kitchen. 

“Mum?” Rebecca asks when Deborah gives them a look before plastering on a smile. 

Ted looks over his shoulder and Claire sticks her little fingers in the bowl Ted no longer has his eyes on and sticky fingers end up in her hair as she reaches for another blueberry to squish between her fingers. 

“It’s your father.”

“What’s he done this time?” Rebecca sighs as she tosses the tea bag into the bin. 

Her father had visited the Richmond Night Market the same night as the team was there when Henry was visiting for Keeley and Roy’s wedding. He hadn’t come with gifts or requests for forgiveness, which Rebecca was thankful for, but it had been unexpected. Ted had shaken her father’s hand, but she kept Henry and Claire away. As if the boys could sense the unease, they took turns entertaining Henry and Claire from a distance until Claire’s bedtime hour approached and Ted had put her in the sling and carried her around until she had dropped off.

“He died.” 

“What?” Rebecca whips her head up and looks at her mother. 

“Mmh. He was supposed to go out with Kenneth and the boys today to celebrate the win yesterday and have their usual drinks before the FA Cup you all play tomorrow,” Deborah knows they know the win against Chelsea was a big deal to further certify their second-place spot in the Premier League as the FA Cup moved from qualifying rounds to more advanced elimination matches. “When he didn’t show, they went to the house. They called me and non-emergency services.”

Rebecca can feel Ted’s eyes on her, but she can’t look over. Not yet.

“Your father arranged everything long ago. Everything will be ready for October 15th.”

“That’s next week,” Rebecca raises a brow.

“He had everything all planned out, Sausage. It makes it easy.”

Richmond’s bye week for the Premier League is this weekend but Ted was still preparing them for their match against Benfica that will take place on the twelfth for their Champions League group stage elimination match.

“I’ll be at the house this week,” Deborah continues. The ‘if you need me' lingers unsaid.

Rebecca nods.

“Well, I should see how Lavinia and Mary Alice are doing on the phone calls to Paul’s list of attendees. See you Sunday, Sausage.”

Deborah taps on the counter and leaves a pair of keys. Rebecca knows they’re for the gate and the house she hasn’t visited in over a decade.

“Hey, you doin’ okay?” Ted whispers as he looks over at her before he turns back as Claire lets out an impatient noise at being ignored. “Sorry, baby girl.”

“I should get ready,” she evades his question and instead takes the cup of tea she made into her hands and escapes to their room. There was going to be a league meeting today over the Olympics and how they’re delaying the start of the Championship League and maybe they’ll even push back the Premier League, too.

He blows out a breath and scrubs at his face with the hand that holds the baby spoon. 

“How do you feel about hanging out with Aunt Keeley for the day?” He asks Claire as she grabs for another blueberry now that she has his attention again. A little hum as she chews the soft fruit. 

He puts the spoon in the mostly empty bowl of rice cereal and puts it on the table next to him before digging out his phone from his pocket. 

He only has to wait two rings before Keeley picks up. The happy greeting sobers as he asks if she can come to pick up Claire for a few hours. And, thank god for their friends who can drop everything for them because she agrees and she’s already out the door before hanging up. 

—

She wakes to Rick Astley singing in the house. Claire had to be up, otherwise, her mother knew better than to wake a sleeping baby, and when she groaned and opened her eyes, she found Ted’s side of the bed empty. 

She lazes in the bed since everyone else seems to be up, but she really does hate this song thanks to hearing it one too many times like the rest of the world.

“God,” she sighs and sticks Ted’s pillow over her face and ears.

A tap at her balcony window makes her peek her head out of her pillow fort.

“Jesus, Stinky, have you eaten your feelings already?” Sassy gestures to Rebecca’s midsection covered by Ted’s Joe Arthur shirt.

“If being twenty-five weeks pregnant is eating your feelings, sure,” Rebecca sighs. She forgot, between running a football club and life with a one-year-old and bi-continental eight-year-old, to tell her oldest friend that she and Ted were expecting.

“Oh, shit. Did Marlboro Man forget to pull out?” Sassy drops to the corner of the bed and Rebecca watches as Nora’s head peeks over the railing and then the teenager is up and over and making her way to the window.

“Hi, Aunt Stinky,” Nora greets.

Rebecca greets her before she turns back to Sassy.

“Less oh shit and more like he was very planned,” Rebecca thinks about sitting up but wonders if shifting will wake the currently sleeping baby boy. “But I have to use the loo. Feel free to head downstairs.”

They linger in the hall as Rebecca uses the loo and brushes her teeth before putting her dressing gown over Ted’s t-shirt and her pink silk pajama bottoms before she follows the noise and Rick Astley on repeat.

“Hey, you okay? We heard a ruckus. Oh,” Ted asks as she comes into the kitchen and Sassy and Nora follow her in. 

Rebecca goes to the CD player of her mother’s, turning off Rick Astley.

“That explains the ivy falling as I looked up,” he tracks Nora’s dishevelled appearance as she turns a little pink. 

“Florence, dear, we have a perfectly accessible front door,” Deborah greets as she lets Claire take a bite of her crumpet. 

“Oh, I wanted to see if I could still do it. Those Tracy Anderson workout videos are finally paying off.”

Deborah hums and turns back to her granddaughter who sits on her lap at the kitchen table.

“Shall we try marmalade?” Deborah asks Claire.

“Just don’t use grape jam,” Rebecca steps into Ted’s side and she wraps her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. His own arm reaches around her side and pulls her closer.

“Oh, I remember,” Deborah nods and she reaches for the orange marmalade.

Rebecca watches as her mother tries and avoids the orange peel even if it is the best part of marmalade, it's probably a choking hazard for Claire.

“You hungry yet? Your mom has scones and crumpets. Your biscuits have about another five minutes in the oven.”

Rebecca hums and he understands that to mean she can wait five minutes.

Nora and Sassy sit at the table. Nora sitting next to Deborah and her head tilts and her hand waves to Claire who stares at her.

“She’s a spitting image of you,” Nora looks over her shoulder to her aunt before she turns and takes a warmed crumpet and borrows the orange marmalade.

“Mmh,” Rebecca nods and her hand goes to her belly. “At the scan a few weeks ago, we got one of those 3D or 4D ones of baby boy and Ted says he has my nose and ears.”

“Oh, cool.”

“I can show you when I have my phone on me again.”

Nora nods with a small smile and turns back to her breakfast.

“A boy, eh, Stink,” Sassy nods as she uses her spoon to stick some clotted cream and strawberry jam onto the scone she’s taken from the stash at the table. “What’s it like having a penis inside you every day? Oh, and then when you and Marlboro Man shag, there are two penises. God, living the dream.”

Ted was a lost cause at the first mention, water spurting out of his mouth like the two times she’s experienced in his first year as gaffer.

“Christ, mum,” Nora blushes and hides her face in her hands.

“I, uh, hadn’t ever thought about it that way,” Rebecca’s brow furrows a little and drops her hold on Ted to let him clean up his mess at the counter.

Deborah only looks over her shoulder with a look to Rebecca.

—

It’s no surprise, at least to her, that there’s a meltdown when she tries to get Claire to wear the little long-sleeved dress. It’s also not a surprise her day is already heading further south as she watches Ted try and hide the slight shake of his hands as he puts his trousers on.

“Mum,” Rebecca calls out and it's not long before Deborah Welton pops her head into Rebecca’s room. “Will you please take Claire for a few moments?”

“Sure, Sausage." Deborah looks over at Claire. "You can help Nana remove these curlers from my hair.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca hands over the fussy baby to her mother and moves towards Ted. 

She puts a hand on his shoulder and directs him to sit down on the edge of the bed. His fingers move unconsciously. His trousers hang loose as the belt threatens to pull them off his hips and his dress shirt is unbuttoned and open, exposing the bright white undershirt.

“Ted, my love. You have to breathe.”

This time, she gets on her knees rather than trying to crouch. Her belly brushes his shins as she tries to get comfortable. One hand moves to grab his and puts it over her heart.

“Deep breaths, Ted. Come back to me.”

She hears a shaky inhale and she releases a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

“There we go. Again, love.”

He does get in a few more deep breaths and she smiles sadly at him.

“This entire thing is reminding you of your dad, isn't it. Fuck,” she whispers as she sinks to sit on her legs. His hand falling from her chest spooks him a little.

“I didn’t go to my dad’s funeral,” Ted reminds her as he puts his hands flat on his thighs as he resists curling them.

She looks up, her hands finding his, and she tries not to wince as he tightens his hold on her fingers.

“Still,” she tries to think of something, but their baby takes the opportunity to announce his wakeful state with a jab to what feels like her lungs. “Your son has the strangest timing.”

She wiggles her fingers and he takes the hint, letting her hand go and watches as she presses the top of her bump.

“You don’t have to come to my father’s funeral, you know. It seems like Claire is rather ornery and if you want to use that, we can certainly do that. Jesus christ.”

“Here, lay down. You know I’m better when I take care of people.”

“I know,” she sighs and silently requests his help to sit up enough to crawl into the bed. “But I also need you to help yourself because I can’t do this whole extended weekend without you.”

“Where is he?” He asks as she settles down and he sticks a pillow between her knees as she lies on her side.

She puts her hand where the elbow or foot seems to be stuck in her lungs and closes her eyes as Ted lifts the shirt she wears. His palm is wide on her belly and his fingers replace hers as he pokes. His forearm brushes her breast and she chuckles with a half groan.

“Sore?” He whispers as an apology.

“Nope, the other one.”

This time, it's him chuckling and his chin lands on her bare belly as his lips press a kiss to her skin. His moustache doesn’t help her situation and he very well knows it.

“Hey, little fedora boy. Mama’s trying to get ready for a pretty intense day. If you could give her a break today, your daddy would sure appreciate it.”

Rebecca shakes her head. Of course, he checked the site to see what size their baby is this week. 

“You know, your sister is already a little firecracker today. And, I’m not helping the situation. So, if you could be the beacon of chill, I promise I’ll give your mama an extra biscuit just for you.”

There are a few more jabs at her lungs before there’s a shift and she sighs and opens her eyes.

“Thank you.”

He nods, pressing another kiss to her belly before he drops his head to the bedspread. 

“I think the promise of an extra biscuit won him over.”

His fingers trace patterns against her skin. Flowers, if she can map the design in her head right.

“I’m serious, you know,” she reminds him and her fingers run through his hair as he looks up from staring at his fingers against her belly. “I don’t want to do this without you by my side, but I can. You can stay here with Claire and nap. She missed you yesterday.”

They had been away just outside of London proper for their Champions League match, winning against Benfica to advance to the fourth round of the group matches. When they had come back, the team asked if they could come to the funeral as a surprise to Rebecca and show her some support from her team. And he had been touched by the gesture. And then tried to help a bunch of footballers understand why you couldn’t wear trainers to a funeral, but you could wear them to the wake if you so desired. So, he and Beard had been late yesterday as a few of them helped the twenty-five players get prepped from Friday afternoon to Saturday afternoon.

“You don’t think people will wonder?” He asks as he shifts his head closer to her belly, pressing his lips to her skin again.

“I don’t particularly care what anyone thinks, Ted. If it wasn’t for supporting my mother, I wouldn’t even be attending the shit’s funeral.”

She could feel his deep, even breaths against her skin.

“Fuck the haters?” He whispers.

“Indeed.”

—

“Jesus fucking christ,” Rebecca mutters aloud, somewhat hoping to be struck down by religious forces as she spots Rupert Mannion walking towards the receiving line.

“What was that, Sausage?” Deborah asks as she watches another couple she can’t remember wish her and Rebecca well and apologise for their loss.

“My darling, Deborah,” Rupert cuts through and leans in and presses a kiss to both of Deborah’s cheeks. 

“Rupert,” Deborah greets with a rote smile. 

“My sincerest condolences,” Rupert puts his hand over his heart and his lips draw into a sad frown.

Rebecca wonders if he practised the movements in the mirror. It just seems like something he’d do. After all, it looks like he brought a few rags along with him.

“Didn't think you were coming,” Rebecca greets him as he turns to do the same to her.

“Rebecca, Paul was family.” 

“No, I mean because you weren't invited,” she begins but her mother interrupts before she can get started. 

“It's lovely to see you, Rupie,” Deborah nods.

Diane starts to cry behind them and Rupert nods for Bex to deal with the toddler. He begins to expound on the joys of fatherhood, something which Rebecca would never understand as she’d never been a father, when she looks over his shoulder to find the AFC Richmond bus in all its glory. And she uses the moment, excusing herself and walking away from the receiving line made up of her and her mother.

Higgins is off the bus first, and Rebecca can’t help but step into his arms and hug him close. His entire family follows him and she takes a moment to also lean in and hug Julie Higgins and give nods to the five Higgins boys.

And then, her team starts coming off the bus one by one.

“How many of them came?” She wonders as she nods at each of the players. Her hand absently curves over the swell of her bump underneath her coat as she feels the occasional kick. 

“All of them.” 

“And none of them are wearing trainers,” she laughs as she looks at their feet.

Isaac, Colin, and Sam step up, giving her a gentle hug and she hugs them back a little tighter than she normally would.

“Mm, that's how much they care about you,” Higgins points out as Beard is the last one off the bus.

Higgins and Beard share a little finger gun action and she chuckles as Higgins leaves her side in favour of bringing Julie over to Deborah.

“Way to make an entrance,” Rebecca raises a brow at the bright red, Richmond team bus.

Beard shrugs his shoulders.

“You need a Kansas-sized hug?” Beard asks and she knows that Ted had most likely texted him.

She nods and he leans in, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

“I won’t leave your side unless you ask. Well, I’m not going to sit with you and your mom but I’ll be behind you, okay?”

“Thank you,” she whispers into his shoulder.

—

“Now, normally I would have to fib about how well I knew the deceased. But in this case, I did know Paul very well. He came to church every weekend, sitting right over there, paying attention to every single word of the Richmond match he was listening to on his phone. But I never felt the need to chide Paul about this. It was a sign of his passion for his beloved sport and the commitment he showed to his team. They're the same passion and commitment that he showed both as a husband and a father to his family as well. And now we will hear a eulogy from Paul's daughter, Rebecca.”

Rebecca sets her clutch down and she thinks she’s an idiot for not bringing her coat in from the room. But she was hot as she and her mother waited to be the last ones in the church. And, she is still a little hot with how terrible the ventilation is in a stone church, but her armour is gone and everyone will know she’s pregnant thanks to the dress being a curve-hugging, tailored piece from her wardrobe she had recently let out a little to fit her expanding waistline. And she was an idiot to think her mother would step in at the last moment to say never mind, Rebecca doesn’t have anything nice to say about her father. She breathes out, briefly wishing Ted was here.

“Umm,” she bites the inside of her cheek as she steps up to the pulpit. She can feel everyone staring. “I don’t really know what to say.”

There’s a creak and the solid thunk of the heavy oak doors at the entrance. And it makes her look up. It's Ted. He has a familiar bundle in his arms wrapped in the familiar dusty pink knit blanket. He gives her a salute before he slips into the last pew.

She takes a steadying breath, looking over at her mother who has a soft smile on her face. The same smile that had been on her face when she held Claire for the first time. She sees Rupert staring daggers at Ted and she curves her hand around her bump with one hand and holds the oak pulpit with the other. 

“Um, my father... was, um…” 

She can’t do it. She still hates him despite the semblance of closure she got. It’s more than Ted’s ever got from his own father, and she thinks it's unfair she got the goodbye when Ted didn’t. She wonders why her father got to live a long life when Ted’s father’s life was cut short. Thinks Ted’s father would have been the type of grandfather she’s seen in the American films with biscuits and life lessons wrapped in daily tasks out on the farm because although she knows Kansas is more than just farmland, she thinks of his father and thinks he would have retired to a farm with cows and sheep and chickens and maybe a horse or two for his grandchildren to ride every summer. Ted grew up with the opposite of the aristocratic upbringing she had been brought into where affection was shown through lavish gifts rather than touch. And, she thanks the universe again for Ted. For showing her there was a way out of the life she was so accustomed to, and she didn’t have to be alone and touch-starved. They’ve broken every rule of her way of life and she’s loved every moment. Even the hard times. Because Leslie was right, even the hard times are easy if you have the right person standing beside you. And, she’s not sure why, but it comes to her and as if she’s experiencing something outside her body, she starts singing.

“We're no strangers to love. You know the rules. And so do I. A full commitments what I'm thinking of. You wouldn't get this from any other guy.” 

She’s lost her mind. Singing as a way to get through a eulogy. Rick-rolling, actually, if she thinks about it. 

“Just want to tell you how I'm feeling. Try to make you understand. Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry. Never gonna say… Never gonna say… goodbye.”

She trails off. The tears threaten to spill over. She’s just made a mess of this and wonders if there is such a thing as a reset button when she hears him.

“Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you,” he picks it up and helps her run with it. He shifts Claire, who looks to be sleeping in his arms. And she meets his eyes and he smiles softly at her as he continues.  "Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down.”

A tear finally escapes as Keeley and Roy join. Then Beard. The Higginses. The team and her mother. And then, everyone but Rupert.

And, she breathes out a sigh of relief when it's over. Her mother understands without any communication as she steps down from giving the eulogy where Rebecca needs to be. And instead of sitting in the front row, she heads to the back pew. Ted stands, hugging her with his free arm as she wraps herself around him, slightly squishing both their children between their bodies, and whispers that she so god damn thankful for him.

—

She closes her eyes as she leans back against the arm of the couch. There are twenty days left until she’s at full term and she can’t sleep, has heartburn even when she isn’t eating anything, and she just wants to stay in Ted’s hoodies and joggers until her water breaks. Unfortunately, she has a gala to attend later. The red carpet will be a nightmare, she thinks. Although they haven't hidden anything from the press, they haven’t responded to requests for comment. The Sun runs articles on how she’s let herself go and asks Bex to comment and share her favourite workout tips. Luckily the young woman can put two and two together from seeing her at her father’s funeral and just comments she’s happy for Rebecca. 

“Mummy sleeping?” A little voice beside her asks in the way only a one and a half year old can get away with as a whisper that’s more regular inside voice. Her curious brown eyes are wide and focused as she pats Rebecca’s arm. 

“Trying to, my little love,” Rebecca whispers and opens her eyes. “Your brother, however, is playing football.” 

Claire’s eyes peel away and she starts to toddle to the hallway to plaster herself against the garden door. 

“Not Henry, baby,” Rebecca chuckles. “Henry is in the kitchen with daddy making mummy lunch.” 

“Me?” Claire turns back and runs to the couch like a little weeble wobble toy. 

“Get lunch or make lunch?” Rebecca tries to clarify. 

Claire uses her hands and motions for her mouth. 

“Yes, it’s lunch for everybody.” 

“I help?” Claire wonders. 

“You can lay with mummy or you can go see what daddy is up to and maybe bring me a crisp or two. You think you can nab a crisp packet for me?”

“Are you two conspiring?” Ted asks as he brings Rebecca her plate. Handing it over, she sees he’s brought two snack-sized crisp bags of the Monster Munch.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I’m going to pretend like that was directed at me for slaving over your veggie sandwich instead of at your Monster Munch.”

“Hey, I made the sandwich,” Henry calls out as he brings in the rest of the lunch plates. 

“I do not feel any kinda love here,” Ted huffs and picks Claire up as she tries to run to grab her plate from Henry. “But my baby will love me, right?”

“No, Dada,” Claire says as his moustache brushes her cheek and then her neck and then her belly as he lifts her up. The deep belly laugh sounded throughout the house.

Rebecca sticks the sandwich plate on her belly, aiming to open the roast beef-flavoured Monster Munch.

“Hey, I better see half that sandwich gone before you open up the picked onion one.”

She sighs, biting into a crisp.

“All right, bear. We got you some fishies and the same sandwich as Henry so you don’t have to do any secret sandwich switcheroo.”

Claire looks at Henry’s green plate and her yellow plate, seeing the Goldfish crackers and the chicken sandwich cut into four triangles without the crust. Satisfied they are the same, she picks up the sandwich piece closest to her and runs back to Rebecca, leaning against the couch edge, using both hands to eat.

Rebecca shrugs as Ted looks at her. If she wants to eat here, she’s fine, she silently communicates to Ted.

Ted looks at his watch. Only two more hours until they have to start getting ready for the Underprivileged Children gala.

—

“Holy smokes, you look like a vision,” he whispers as Keeley finishes zipping her into the dress. 

“It’s not too much?” She asks as she looks at his reflection in the mirror as he comes to stand behind her. His left hand meeting the middle of her back as she leans into him.

“You look like Aphrodite herself. And this gold laurel wreath crown thing you got here in your hair? Stunning. I feel underdressed.” 

The light green dress was similar to the blazer that matches her eyes. One of Ted’s favourites of all her blazers for that reason. After all, he had been given permission to throw down the chaos hammer when she was wearing it all those years ago. So, the colour holds a special place in his heart. And, this custom gown, well, nobody was going to ever wear it better than her. It was less mint and more a greyed jade. He’s sure there’s some sort of Pantone swatch in the colour. 

The tie and pocket square of his navy suit matches her dress. His chestnut brown oxfords coordinating with the new Christian Louboutins sitting next to her that she’ll wear which are a glittery nude colour. 

Keeley had reminded her she didn’t need to wear the heels and that he had also sent over flats, but she had refused. 

“You want some assistance slipping into these babies and adjusting your centre of gravity?” Ted asks as she turns to her side and lifts the hem of the gown.

She uses his shoulder to balance as he slips the heels on and then lets her find the new centre of gravity before he scoots back a little, still kneeling as he looks up at her.

“Baby boy asleep yet?” He asks as he lifts a hand to her belly and presses a soft kiss to where he knows her popped belly button is under the silk and lace and sequence.

“Mmh,” she nods, just barely remembering not to touch his hair that Keeley had styled into his coifed look earlier.

“Oi, I know the trick to get that kid asleep is the two of you shagging. No need to whisper.”

Ted looks up to Rebecca who starts to blush.

“Oh?” Ted asks as he stands, brows raised.

“Shut up.”

“You two look fucking fit, by the way,” Keeley says as she holds up her phone. And Rebecca knows she’s already taken enough photos of them to launch an entire Ted and Rebecca fan site.

“I still can’t believe you’ve managed to basically hide this from the press minus the few who were at your father’s funeral,” Keeley nods to Rebecca’s belly and there’s no option of hiding. The dress was tailored to her expanded waistline.

“You’re, like, absolutely sure I can post these, right? Because once I do, your follower count will go through the roof. And so will the requests for interviews.”

Rebecca twists the simple, platinum band that Ted have given her to wear when her fingers started to swell last month and she hadn’t been able to get her Mother’s Day band back on her finger. He noticed she spun her ring whenever she was nervous or anxious, and he welcomed the visible sign so he’d be ready to help. Sort of like how she knows how he sticks his hands in his pockets or does the turtle.  

“I want to control the first photos posted,” Rebecca nods.

Between Keeley’s amassed followers and the AFC Richmond account, they’ll certainly control the narrative, but there will always be the occasional wankers like Ernie Lounds and Piers Morgan. Plus, Keeley is already going to have the boys retweet and re-gram the photo with the new hashtag, #WeltonsWarriors. Keeley senses Piers and his company of merry followers will no doubt comment on Rebecca’s age. In any case, Keeley’s going to spend the car ride over to the Richmond Theatre selecting the best and posting the photos to Rebecca and Ted’s account, re-gramming it on her own and the official AFC Richmond one just as they step out of the car.

—

“You ready?” He asks as he holds the door open and has his hand extended to help her out of the car. 

“No,” she laughs a little nervously but puts her hand in his and lets him pull her up and out of the car with minimal effort. 

The press already notices them as they walk up to the red carpet queue and the boys all motion for her to skip ahead in the line up. 

“Oi, boss,” Isaac calls out as she and Ted pass him and Colin. Rebecca slows and turns to the team captain. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Isaac,” she whispers as presses a light kiss to his cheek. “I needed that little boost of confidence.” 

“We got you, boss. Don’t we, bruvs,” Isaac states more than questions as the players around him nod. 

Ted holds her clutch that has both their phones, the key to the front door, and her credit card. This way, when they pose together, he can hold it behind her back. As lovely as it is, he loves it when she has a hand free to curl around the evidence of their growing boy. And, he knows she’d happily sacrifice a fashion accessory for their baby boy.

She holds his hand the entire way down the carpet when they turn from the queue to the actual press line. And as the photographers request solo photos of her, she sticks close to Ted. He can sense her nervousness, though.

“Guess what?” He whispers, the tip of his nose brushing her ear. 

“Chicken butt?” She whispers back as she watches him burst into laughter which makes her smile bigger and more genuine. Her hand automatically curls around her belly as she feels her entire body sing at the way he laughs at her simple return of that dumb phrase.

“Well, I was going to say I love you, but, uh, I’m not sure if I love you is good enough for this moment any more.”

“Silly man,” Rebecca whispers as she moves her hand from her bump to his hair, sweeping her fingers through Keeley’s perfect coif and releasing his little tendril. “I love you, but I really have to use the loo.”

“Onward, my love,” he informs her with a kiss on the tip of her nose as she scrunches her face.

He takes her hand again and leads the way inside. A few photographers capture their genuine grins as they escape the flashbulbs and make a waddle for the doors.

Old Rebecca Orders Rodeo Clown Conception and Randy Rebecca Repopulates were currently tied for her favourite of the wacky headlines Keeley linked her to as The Sun and various rags had competed overnight for best alliterative and tragically comedic headline. She does note that her notifications are insane for comments and new followers on Twitter and Instagram, and she wonders briefly if Keeley can show her how to turn off all these settings.

Their little girl is born four days after her projected due date, and two days before the projected due date of their baby boy. Leaving Claire with Deborah, they drove to Brighton, this time a couple of days ahead of schedule, since their Premier League game was on Monday instead of the weekend and their FA Cup matchup wasn’t supposed to happen until after both babies were born. Ted had a strange dream that as soon as Rebecca stepped foot in Brighton General, she’d go into labour. But as she donned the scrubs again, she looked fine albeit ready to pop herself.

Once again, she was the first one to hold their daughter and she had hugged him with all her might as soon as their baby was deemed okay and ready to be cleaned up and weighed and measured.

As with Claire, Rebecca spends some time with Emily as Ted spends some skin to skin time with his newest daughter. This time, Ted thinks, she spends a little more time with Emily to talk about the realities of birthing a human into the world considering she’s mere days from doing it herself.

When they get home twenty-four hours after she is born, the photo that introduces the newest Welton-Lasso to Henry and the team is a photo of Claire slumped over Rebecca’s shoulder as Rebecca holds the baby up for her to see. Claire’s little finger is held in the baby’s own, and Claire’s little grin lights up her face as Rebecca kisses her oldest daughter’s cheek and thanks her for being gentle with her baby sister.

Sophie Anne Welton-Lasso. January 23, 2024. 2:24 am.

—

She wakes him unintentionally as she slips out of bed and into the loo. It's intentional that he hears her call out his name just loud enough she doesn’t wake the eight-day-old baby sleeping in the bassinet in their room. And with the lack of sleep, it's a hair-trigger, as he sits up and moves to the washroom. He leans against the door frame to the toilet and he blinks as he notices her grin as she still sits on the toilet.

“I think my water just broke,” she whispers, a little giddy. She’s on day five of the overdue watch and she’s wanted him evicted since after the new year. “Don’t give me that look. I peed and then there was another, bigger rush. It’s slightly pink just like they said it would be.”

“I wasn’t aware I was giving you a look,” Ted half-apologises. He’s not even sure he’s looked at his actual face in the mirror the past few days to know it’s capable of even giving looks. “You want me to call your mom and Keeley or you want to stay here for a bit?”

She wipes and flushes, leaving her underwear to slip down the rest of the way and onto the washroom floor as she stands. She kicks at the pajama shorts and her underwear so they’re in a little pile by the shower door and she nods to it as she moves to the sink to wash her hands.

“Will you help wash my hair?” She asks as an apology for her little snappish moment.

“Course,” he nods.

He’s sure this shower might turn his skin rather pink, but he’ll take it if it means she’s willing to spend more time with him before another baby begins to keep them up at all hours. He does wash her hair though. Her little sighs remind him of Claire as she trusts him to hold her up and balanced as she focuses on her breathing like they had practised.

“Can you see how far?” She asks as she squeezes at his hip at another rolling wave of what she’s guessing are no longer the Braxton-Hicks she’s had for the past day and a half.

It’s perhaps the least sexy shower they’ve ever had, and he chuckles internally as he curls his hand past her belly, his fingers measuring like he’s read the doctors and nurses do, before he holds his three fingers up like little soldiers all in a row.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

“We can hop out and I can work out the knots while Sophie and Claire snooze.”

“Okay,” she nods against his chest.

He takes the cues from her, only waiting until she pushes away to turn the shower off and drape a towel over her head as he does with Claire, which makes her laugh.

—

After breakfast, where she manages to eat half a pancake and two pieces of an apple, she manages to sleep sitting upright on the couch with Sophie on her chest and Claire resting quietly in between her side and the back of the couch as Paw Patrol plays on the telly. And he takes that quiet moment to shave so he looks somewhat presentable as Deborah Welton lets herself in, followed closely by Roy and Keeley, and Beard bringing up the rear.

Their guests are careful not to crowd or overwhelm her, but she seeks him out when he’s alone in the kitchen, cleaning up from lunch where he’d at least got her to eat half a chicken sandwich even if it was only grilled chicken, mayonnaise, and lettuce. Not the most filling, but he wasn’t expecting her to have a big appetite today.

“Will you hold him for a bit?” She asks with slightly glassy eyes. He knows she is most likely starting to get uncomfortable now. 

He makes sure his hands are dry and turns her to face the window so she’s looking out at the garden rather than the black television screen. She raises her hands up and leans against him as his arms go around her waist and below her belly.

“Ready?” He asks as she drops her hands back down to her side. 

He gently lifts her belly, the pressure shifting away from her aching muscles and joints and she can’t help the small sob of relief. 

“I’m good,” she tells him before he can ask. “Oh, fuck, it feels good.” 

He presses a kiss to her neck as she leans a little heavier against him. 

“You let me know when it’s time. I can do this all afternoon.” 

Her hands trail his forearms and her hands find his, holding onto him. 

“I love you,” she whispers and she tries to shuffle her head to lean away so she can see him, but the angle is all wrong and she doesn’t want to stop this. 

“I love you, too, baby,” he hums into her hair and hears her gentle sigh. 

—

She curls herself towards him, leaning against his arm as she breathes deeply through one of the transition contractions.

“Fuck me,” she whispers into his skin as he watches the hustle and bustle around them.

“Hey,” he says as he can feel her fingernails dig into his arm. “You want to know the moment I fell in love with you?”

“What?” She asks, her brow furrowed as she leans back into the uncomfortable mattress they stuck her on that can easily be converted to a surgical bed if something goes wrong. 

He smooths the wispy hairs back from her slightly sweaty forehead and smiles softly at her.

“The moment I fell in love with you. Wanna know?”

She presses her forehead against his arm again and nods.

“It was after Liverpool. You know, when I beat Voldemort at darts and then you bought drinks for everyone at the Crown and Anchor?”

He hears her laugh and he’s guessing it’s because of the nickname for Rupert. He takes her back to that moment because that’s one of his favourite moments with her. 

“That next morning when I had all the boys help me write hi boss on the pitch? And then you played along? Yeah, that moment when you yelled back hi. That’s when I fell in love with you.”

She makes it through another round of contractions at the conclusion of his brief retelling and he’s sure his arm is going to fall off, but the nurse tells him to keep talking to her. 

“You want to know something else?” He asks but doesn’t expect her to answer. “I think you’re the most amazing mama on this planet. Heck, I’d even make honeybunches fight some aliens on my behalf to defend giving you a universe title.” 

He feels her brief laugh against his chest as she moves to try and escape into his hold to escape the pains of labour. 

“Gosh, when Henry said he was thankful for his mum at the team Thanksgiving and you both burst into tears. I swear that might have beat out the day he was born if only for a few minutes. I dunno. I keep going back and forth. But woo-wee, there was not a dry eye in sight for a while after that. Good thing he got to go last, cheeky little bugger, conspiring with Keels. She recorded that so when he gets mad at us for not allowing him a billion dollars to go on his ski adventure in the Swiss Alps on winter hols, we’d always have that moment. And, I don’t even know what I just said, but that’s what Keeley mentioned.” 

“He’s… not spoiled,” Rebecca manages to get out. 

“No, he is not. No kid in the Welton-Lasso household will grow up to be a snob or bully.” 

“Mum and dad,” the nurse interrupts and Ted looks down at Rebecca’s lower half where he swears the medical staff multiplied like rabbits while he was talking Rebecca through the transition stage. “We’re at ten.” 

“Hmm, 192 hours and counting, kiddo,” Ted checks his watch. He didn’t realise he had been talking to her for almost thirty minutes. 

“That’s a long time to wait for an entrance into the world,” Rebecca reminds him as a nurse uses the IV port to give her something that makes her head feel fuzzy again.

She’s at least back to full sentences again. 

“Well, we gotta respect he didn’t hurry. Just like his mama.” 

“Wanker,” she whispers, mostly with affection. 

“Only for a few weeks,” he winks as he chuckles. 

“Jesus christ on a bike.” 

“All right, mama. Let’s bring our baby boy into the world.”

—

“I’ve never been this sore in my entire life. And I’ve had knee surgery,” she points out as she puts her face in her hands as she leans back against her mound of pillows. 

Ted looks up from peering into the little clear bassinet as he sits in the chair beside the bed. 

“I didn’t know you had knee surgery.” 

“Mmh. After uni.” 

“Huh.” 

“How is he?” She asks as she puts a hand over her bump as the other brushes the hair out of her eyes that have fallen from her ponytail she had done almost 24 hours ago. Her bump is still as big as it was an hour ago before she had pushed the baby out. 

“Still sleeping away,” he whispers as he stands and unlocks the wheels, rolling the little bassinet to the side of her bed. “I called Beard-o and he said he’d bring Sophie over if you want to learn that tandem feed or whatever it was called.” 

She nods. 

“I still can’t believe he’s here. Or that she’s here. Can you believe we made that little guy?”

“Can you help,” she motions to the sleeping baby and she knows it’s probably a terrible idea but thanks to the drugs she’s a little fuzzy on his entrance to the world and doesn’t remember if he has all his fingers and toes.

When Ted sets him where she’s asked between her legs as she sits up and only regrets it a little before the drugs kick in again, she begins to unravel the perfect swaddle no doubt done by the nurse. He has ten tiny toes, ten tiny fingers, and looks far smaller than how he felt coming into the world. And his little fingers snatch her own as she brushes her finger against his palm. 

“Do you have any name suggestions?” Ted asks as he scoots the bassinet out of the way and brings his small chair over. 

She nods. 

“Well, I’m all ears,” he takes her in. 

“Daniel. Daniel James Welton-Lasso.” 

“Are you sure you want to follow that weird family tradition? I know we did it with Sophie’s middle name matching yours and now I know Claire’s matches your mom’s middle name.”

He had told her about the strange thing some folks did, including his family, where names were recycled. His name came from his grandfather and his father’s middle name. His father the generations before and so on. Some even skipped out on changing the first name and just switching up middle names and using middle names to differentiate between the different family members with the same first name. Midwest and Southern traditions were special for sure. 

“Henry Theodore Lasso?” She points out his oldest son’s full name as a counterpoint to his counterpoint. “You want this little human to be the only one not following our weird family name traditions?”

“Well, how could I say no when you put it like that,” he chuckles and rises to press a kiss to her cheek and then her lips. “I’ll go get the paperwork to fill out from the nurse station.”

“Can you also ask when I can shower?” She whispers.

“Will do, mama.”

—

“Oh, wow. Okay. Huh,” She whispers as she runs her fingers through the wispy hairs of her baby girl. 

“Feels weird?” Ted asks as he mirrors what the nurse had done with Sophie on Rebecca’s left side before he lets Rebecca guide the newest Welton-Lasso baby to where he needs to be to latch.

“Remember the time Claire helped Mina vacuum and she thought you were dirty from training so she used the handheld on your stomach?”

“Mmh.” 

“It’s like that, only with my breasts.” 

“Oh.” 

“Mmh.” 

“Well, look at that,” he whispers as their baby boy latches and she gives him a tired grin. 

“This is the easiest method,” the lactation specialist uses her hand to point out where pitfalls can occur and promises to show a couple more variations at the next sessions. And Ted can’t help but take a few photos. 

He sees Rebecca frown. 

“For our reference. Keeley won’t see these.” 

“Fine,” Rebecca understands his logic, but he clearly underestimates Keeley and the fact his phone passcode is their anniversary in the American month, day, year format. That is if she doesn’t just use his face to get in which would be the easiest since he is so gullible.

He sticks his phone back in his pocket and sits at her hip, his fingers tracing the little baby leg closest to him.

“How are you, besides sore and drugged?” He asks quietly.

“Slightly overwhelmed but thrilled,” she huffs a laugh. “Also, cow-like. In need of a shower. You?”

“Tired. Excited. Overwhelmed.”

Their baby boy, Daniel, pulls away first and Rebecca frowns.

“Hey, it's just like that specialist said. He has a tiny stomach and that first helping is gourmet stuff. She’s got a week on him. You can always burp and try again in case it's a tiny bubble.”

She nods, sitting their baby upright on the nursing pillow and rubbing circles, gently patting his back in case he does have any air in his tiny belly.

“Look at that mama intuition at work,” he leans in and presses a kiss to her temple as she lays Daniel back down at her breast and he latches again, slowly suckling.

“Will you get her?” Rebecca asks as she feels Sophie drop away while she continues to be mesmerised by their baby boy.

Ted rounds the bed and throws a burp rag over his shoulder before gently manoeuvring Sophie to his chest, whispering nonsense to her as she tries to fall asleep.

When both babies are fed and mostly back to sleep, she asks to hold them both. He helps her settle them against her chest and her soft smile as she presses a kiss to both tiny heads melts his heart and makes him feel all gooey inside.

“Sleep,” he whispers after a while as he watches her blink slowly. “Just a little cat nap and you’ll be that much closer to shower time. I can watch our babies. Make sure they don’t call the jet or the driver to whisk them away to a tropical locale.”

“Ted,” she hums, turning to watch him as she leans against her pillow.

“Yeah?” He pauses folding the receiving blanket near her feet.

“I love you,” she reminds him.

“I love you, too.”

He watches as she smiles sleepily. A dopey little thing that’s partly drug-induced, but also just sleepy Rebecca, and it settles the slight anxiousness of now they’re responsible for two new babies.

He sticks both of the babies in the bassinet when he knows she’s down for the count. It’s probably not allowed if you’re not Rebecca Welton, since the hospital is only in charge of the one baby that has the little ankle identifier that matches the wrist one he and Rebecca wear. But since they are Weltons, he’s sure they can get away with it. The quiet little fussing of Sophie ceases when they’re both snuggled together as he takes them from Rebecca’s chest. And, as he looks at the two of them, he can’t help but wonder if they’re going to have that weird twin connection even if they’re born a week and change apart.

—

They make their escape less than twenty-four hours after she gives birth and she wonders if somehow they’ve got it wrong, and they’re moving too quickly. But she’s used the loo. Her vitals were all in her normal range. She was slowly deflating her bump. Both babies were latching properly. She received a very thorough and hands-on pumping lesson. For all intents and purposes, she was physically ready to go home. And, that was terrifying. Ted had driven her Aston Martin to the back of the hospital, just in case the press got wind of their stay, even if it was 7:30 pm and dark enough to obscure her. And the car seats were checked, and then they were off to Twickenham. Ted’s hand on her thigh as she drives them home reassures her that it’s not just some sort of lucid dream.

And when they do get home, Claire is thrilled to see her mother after a day apart.

“Baby?” She asks as Rebecca opens the door and toes off her Nikes.

“We do have a new baby for you,” Rebecca nods. “Daddy’s bringing Sophie back and your new brother.”

“I’ll go help him, Sausage,” Deborah whispers as she squeezes Rebecca’s arm before passing through the entryway to assist Ted in getting bags and knapsacks.

“Come, sit with mummy. Daddy will bring us our babies,” Rebecca nods to the sitting room. 

When Ted gets the new photo for the group chat, Claire is in the background, proudly holding a swaddled, sleeping Sophie on the couch as she’s propped in the corner. But the focus of his camera is Rebecca and Daniel. She’s in the middle of burping him and she has her eyes on him as she listens to the tiny grunts and growls and baby noises of their day-old baby as she sits him up. Her tired but proud grin visible and almost deserving of its own photo.

Daniel James Welton-Lasso. February 1, 2024. 5:00 am.

He also sends the photo to Mae, also including Sophie’s information, as a way to keep their favourite publican slash secret keeper in the loop.

—

Four days after she gives birth to her son and almost two weeks after the birth of her second daughter, the Greyhounds have their first match she can’t attend. She’s laying in their bed, feeding Sophie as she watches Ted sleep, as she gets an idea of how they can subtly make an announcement before the press figure out why she’s not at the game. 

When Sophie is finished, she falls back asleep, and instead of bringing her back to the bassinet where her brother sleeps, Rebecca makes sure her tiny face is facing Ted. She gets out of bed to use the loo and then quickly takes the photo of Sophie and Ted sleeping in bed together. The sheets are a rumpled mess and Ted is on his stomach, sheets covering his hips, but he’s shirtless after a middle of the night skin to skin session with both babies. It’s perhaps the most intimate look into their life, but it’s an accurate portrayal of parenthood.

She slips back into bed and looks at the photo, sending it to Keeley with 'too cliché to use as an announcement?,' and then turns to her night stand and sets her phone down, hoping to get a few more minutes of quiet before Daniel or Claire wakes up.

Although her mother is still here helping them out, Keeley pops by with a late lunch and plans to watch the match with Rebecca from the comfort of the sitting room. 

“Look at how tiny they still are,” Keeley whispers as she sits down on the couch next to Rebecca who has both babies on her chest. It might be February, but skin to skin is easier in her strapless dresses. So she wears one of Ted’s zip-up hoodies to cover her arms. 

“Have they done any of the weird twin stuff yet? I mean, I know they’re not twins, but you said they like to be bundled together.” 

“Mmh, not really. They do prefer sleeping together though. If they’re not swaddled, he’ll seek her out and he calms her. I just wish I could get them on the same feeding and nap schedule but their paediatrician said it might take a few more weeks until he’s bigger.”

“Well, I brought takeaway from that fancy Italian place because Ted says you needed carbs and hydration. And, it looks like you have the hydration part covered.” 

“Mmh. Claire’s in charge of mummy’s water. Just so you know.”

“Where is she?” Keeley looks around and notices Deborah and Claire are absent.

“Using her big girl toilet. Well, she just likes to sit on it with her nappy on. But, she’s very interested in toilet use right now.”

Keeley laughs aloud and covers her mouth as Daniel startles.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Keeley whispers.

“So, uh, lock the washroom door unless you want a little blonde asking you questions. At least by locking the door, you’ll only get tiny fingers wiggling through the little space between the door and the floor.”

“I fucking love it. Sorry, babe.”

Rebecca shrugs.

“Oh, by the by,” Keeley pulls her phone out of her purse and unlocks it, showing the screen to Rebecca. “Twitter is PI central trying to figure out if Daniel is Claire since the only clue you gave the internet was 23/1 and the little greyhound emoji as a caption and you didn’t allow for replies.”

Keeley had responded to her photo and question with a ridiculous amount of emojis, which Rebecca took to mean the idea was a good one. So, when Daniel woke up, she had exchanged the babies and quickly took the same photo of a sleeping Ted and Daniel before she had picked him back up to cuddle him before he ate. She had posted the two photos in black and white with Sophie as the first picture and Daniel as the second one. A nod to their birth days in the caption.

“Some have figured it mostly out,” Keeley points out as she shows the photo to her. “They’re pointing out the reflection of you in the mirror and how you have your ring on and you didn’t have that when Claire was born. So, the consensus so far is that you’re just showing how big they get. It helps you basically put them in all the same onesies right now.”

“So, what you’re saying is they have more brain cells to rub together than the press?” Rebecca asks through a yawn.

“Yep,” Keeley nods. “So, when you two actually go out again, be prepared to be photographed. Luckily you have one of those posh doctors who will come here for a while to do all your postpartum checks.”

Rebecca hums and smiles as her stomach grumbles.

“Hungry?”

“Ravenous,” she nods. “It’s like they suck the calories right out of me. I’m either starving, thirsty, or both.”

“Well, I have fettuccine since Ted’s not here,” Keeley winks. “And I also have a shit ton of cheesy bread for Claire and like five other pasta options.”

“I’d propose marriage if you weren’t a married woman.”

“I’d divorce Roy and marry you in a heartbeat, babe.”

Rebecca laughs and shakes her head.

“Oi, Roy would do the same if you proposed marriage to him. So, don’t look at me like that. We’ve got standards, babe. You’re the platinum level.”

“Will you put them in the bassinet so I can use the loo and tell my mother and Claire lunch is here and the pre-match analysis is about to come on?”

Keeley hops up, cuddling each sleeping baby as she walks the few steps to the bassinet. Keeping a watchful eye on the little Welton-Lassos as Rebecca gets up from the couch, adjusting her dress as she heads for the guest bedroom down the hallway where her mother was with Claire and her toddler toilet.

“Your mum is so fit. You two are so lucky,” Keeley whispers as she turns on the telly and changes it to Sky Sports.

—

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 napping?” He asks as he closes his laptop from his interview with BBC Sport as they went into the final weekend of the Premier League and they were seven points ahead of second place on the table which essentially guaranteed them first place. Not that anyone at Nelson Road said the words aloud.

“Sophie went down quickly, but I left Daniel awake and milk drunk with Keeley. They’ll probably be having a staring contest until he finally closes his eyes.” 

Ted chuckles as he nods.

“What’s up Cat in the Hat?” He asks with a wink as she shakes her head.

She rounds the desks to slip onto the top of his and scoots back a little so it allows him some space to scoot his chair in.

He does as she predicts and scoots in, leaning an arm against the armrest of his chair and he sets his chin in his hands, looking up at her as he wiggles his eyebrows.

“You know that I’ve never needed a piece of paper from the government to think of this thing between us as official.” 

He nods. 

“I just. I was filling out the application for Claire’s nursery school forms and Henry's final primary school emergency contact stuff this afternoon while I had Keeley’s help watching them. And I had to mark single when it asked about marital/civil partnership status.”

He lets her continue without interruption.

“Wow, this sounds like I’m only doing this for convenience,” she sighs as she rubs a hand across her forehead. “Here. Let me restart.”

“You want me to press the rewind button?” He teases.

“And split open your skull again? Absolutely not.”

“Gotcha, boss.”

“You want to know the moment I fell in love with you?” She asks as she sets the papers down beside her on his desk.

He nods.

“You remember the morning of Henry’s football scrimmages that first trip to Kansas? You took the long route to town and had passed those corn and sunflower fields. I don’t know what it is about the countryside and the mystical blue-purple-pink skies in the early dawn. You had made me that delicious orange pomegranate tea and pulled over next to the sunflowers and bet me I would be taller than them because even though you were driving, you noticed that I looked at those flowers like they were something magical. And you took those silly photos and those ‘us-ies’ or whatever. Claiming there should be photographic evidence there is something in the world that can tower over Rebecca Welton.”

He had made that the contact photo for her for a while. The child-like wonder he saw in her face that day is often mimicked in Claire’s face. 

“It was that moment.” 

He smiled at her as she took a deep breath.

“You notice the little things. You saw all of me. You see all of me. And you still want me…more,” she slips up. “When we met, my reputation was a sight and my heart shattered on the floor into a million little pieces. And, you just. You soft-shoed and moonwalked and crept up the stairs and around the pitch just picking up the little, tiny pieces as you went without a care to what it was doing to yours.”

She clears her throat and twists her fingers together.

“Then you shared your son with me. Your sweet boy who is so much like you. And you made me a mother with Claire. And I swore to the universe I just wanted that one shot. That you and me and Henry and that baby would be enough. Then we ended up with Sophie, too. I promise, I love all of our kids, but Daniel,” she whispers and a tear falls onto her skirt as she looks down. “I got to experience the highs and the lows. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that… any of this, if it wasn’t for you. And, I know you told me about that princess who didn’t like hugs, but I think the real protagonist of that story is the midwestern cowboy and his trusty bearded sidekick who rescued the princess from her moronic plans.”

She collects herself as she turns over the paperwork and pushes it in his direction. And she watches as he reads the title after seeing the Home Office seal.

When he sets the application she’s filled out on his desk, he finds her holding her palm up to him, a platinum offering in her hand. 

“I don’t believe in a god or organised religion or the idiotic prescribed words you have to say in the Anglican church to be married to someone here. Not any more. But, in the civil partnership, as long as you follow some rules and sign some papers, and you don't call us married for legal purposes, we can have almost all the same legal rights. And, you can call me your wife, if you want.”

“You sure you want to settle with me? I mean, I’m a loony, Midwest American rodeo clown cowboy,” he reminds her of all the titles the rags have used lately as he picks up the band from her palm, closing an eye and looking at her between the width of the ring. 

She laughs, twisting the two eternity bands that sit on her ring finger from her two Mother’s Day gifts from the past two years. One band with Henry and Claire’s birthstones from last year, the other band with Sophie and Daniel’s from a few months ago.

“Sorry, love, but you’ve been a British citizen for going on seven months now.” 

“Apologies. A loony, former Midwest American rodeo clown cowboy, now a full British citizen. Remember, I got myself four kids. They’re all lil’ bits, you know? Three under three and one a pin-drop away from pre-teen rebellion. The latter of which is about to move in permanently.” 

“There’s no one else I’d rather do this with than you.”

He nods, holding the ring out to her and wiggles his ring finger like she had done that first Mother’s Day when they sat on the nursery floor with their daughter between them. 

She slips it on his finger, admiring the band before she leans down and presses her lips to his own. 

When they open the manager’s office door, she holds his left hand up and the team is waiting with little bags of confetti, pouring it over the two of them as Keeley holds Daniel, Higgins holds Sophie, Claire is perched on Beard’s shoulders, and Henry is jumping up and down on Rebecca’s phone as Sam holds up the FaceTime call. She kisses him again beneath the believe sign, laughing against his mouth as she swears she can taste pieces of never-ending confetti.

And when they win the whole fucking thing that Saturday afternoon, she’s not sure any other year could possibly top the one they’ve had this year, so far, but she can’t wait to let the universe try.