Chapter Text
It starts with an innocent, off-handed comment— a joke she makes to Keeley over lunch at the Crown & Anchor. If Rebecca had known it would change everything, she probably would have kept her mouth shut out of fear alone.
Of course Rebecca could never have predicted the domino effect her stupid joke would have, she only wanted to make her best friend feel better about how little time they’ve been able to spend together lately.
“It’s just so fucking quiet around here without the two of you,” she quips.
“Aw babe,” Keeley pouts, ignoring her own inclusion in the statement, and leaping to a different conclusion. “You miss Ted.”
“No,” Rebecca quickly replies, not allowing herself time to even consider the prospect. “It’s not that.”
Keeley looks at her skeptically. “You don’t have to deny it. It’s not like it’s weird. It’s completely normal to miss someone you’re used to seeing every day. Just as long as you miss me more than him.”
“Obviously.”
Rebecca misses having Keeley around the office, she misses the security of someone she trusts unconditionally being a mere few feet away at all times. But they FaceTime constantly and meet up whenever they can. Ted being on another continent —albeit temporarily— is different. She sends the occasional text, but she doesn’t want to bother him during his time with Henry, precious and fleeting as it is.
“Maybe you should go visit him.”
Rebecca laughs in response, finding the idea so ridiculous that she assumes it’s an outlandish joke.
“Fuck off!” Keeley protests loud enough to draw attention from the table behind them. “I’m completely serious.”
“You want me to go to Kansas?”
“Why not?”
The list of reasons is so long that she doesn’t know where to begin. “Because Ted didn’t invite me? Because he’s spending time with his son? Because he’s in the middle of nowhere?”
Keeley being Keeley ignores all of those perfectly valid points. “It would be such a nice surprise for him.”
“Would it?” She ponders aloud, genuinely unsure of the answer.
“You of all people know what it’s like to have to constantly deal with an ex. I’m sure he could use the support.”
“He didn’t ask for it.”
“Yeah, but Ted never asks.”
Rebecca nods at the truth of that statement. Sometimes all of Ted’s not asking becomes distance she can’t close, try as she might.
And yet she can't deny how much he’s been there for her, despite her equal guilt of not-asking. She thinks often about what he said when she first told him Rupert bought West Ham: our run-ins. Our. As if they’re one, inseparable unit. As if it was a given that she wouldn’t have to face any of it alone.
But Michelle isn’t their rival. She isn’t recruiting members of their staff to help plot against them. She’s living her life and raising Ted’s son. She’s not the enemy, even though Rebecca can’t help but to see her that way sometimes.
“I bet he misses you,” Keeley muses. “And if you go, you'll get your biscuits back. You must be in withdrawal by now.”
“He left me plenty of biscuits.”
“Hold on,” Keeley processes. “Are you saying he baked you a two month supply of biscuits?”
Rebecca nods with something akin to pride. “And left detailed instructions on how to best freeze and thaw them.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the man who baked you like 200 biscuits before he left would just absolutely hate to see you sooner than planned.”
The sarcasm doesn’t move her. “I’m not going to Kansas.”
So Keeley shrugs and drops the subject.
——————
Unfortunately, and much to her surprise, the idea solidly takes root, sprouting deeper in her mind with each passing day. She starts rationalizing it with the most bizarre logic. Maybe she could use a change of scenery before the season starts. Not that Kansas is her ideal getaway spot. Or anyone’s, really. Which is part of the problem.
If only Ted were in New York or California or somewhere she could at least pretend she had another reason to visit. She could buy tickets to a Broadway show and casually show up to where he was staying, all nonchalant, like he wasn’t the main event.
If she shows up in Kansas it will be clear she’s there for him and him alone. Because why the fuck else would anyone go to Kansas?
She starts to day-dream about what it would be like to surprise him. She can picture the look on his face so clearly. She refuses to consider why it’s so easy to anticipate his reaction. Or why it is that only Ted makes her do objectively crazy things like gather up tinsel and spell out words in the street without a care in the world about what the people passing by might think. On Christmas Day she wasn’t worried about fans witnessing their team’s owner throwing rocks at the coach’s window. She was only worried about Ted. Alone. Far from home.
(Why does it feel like he’s far from home now? Richmond isn’t his home because Henry is his home and yet it feels like a piece of the very fabric of their lives is missing).
The things Rupert would’ve said if she ever tried something as absurd as spelling out a message in the street while she was with him.
Not that she’s with Ted.
Even so.
There’s something about Ted that makes her open her laptop and start searching for flights to Kansas.
——————
She learns pretty quickly that getting to the middle of nowhere is a whole ordeal. The fact that it’s a 15 hour trip should be enough to talk herself out of it. If she wanted to spend that long traveling she could end up somewhere luxurious, half-naked on a yacht again, for instance.
She decides that maybe having a conversation with Ted— hearing his voice— will dispel her of the notion that this is something she should consider. If she talks to Ted she’ll realize that her showing up would be embarrassing because he’s too busy to spend time with her anyway. So she makes up a reason to call. She prepares a list of completely fake but well thought-out questions about the training schedule for the upcoming season.
He picks up before the second ring, greets her with his usual enthusiasm, and asks her how the biscuits are holding up. Rebecca gets through her questions that aren’t really questions and Ted gives her answers that she can’t pay attention to because there’s this weird, gnawing feeling in her gut.
That feeling is screaming at her that Ted isn’t okay. She can always tell, like she has some kind of built-in Ted Lasso alarm system in her head. She had it before they were even friends —like when she somehow knew to follow him outside that club and find him keeled over and panicked in the street. How is that even possible? To know someone before you really know them? She’s never experienced it with anyone else.
“How are things?” She asks, trying to sound casual.
“Oh you know how it is, boss.”
She doesn’t though. She wants to know. She wants to be the one he talks to even if they aren’t built for that. Even if they don’t know how.
“How’s Henry?” She tries again, this time more specific.
“Little snag in my grand plan for our summer of father-son bonding,” Ted admits. “He’s started football camp. American football, that is. Tried to convince him our football is cooler, but he wasn’t buying what I was selling.”
Rebecca hears it immediately. Our football. Our. Like they’re one, inseparable unit.
“Kids will do what they want, I suppose.”
It’s shit advice. Rebecca doesn’t know what kids do and she probably never will. She hates herself the second the words leave her mouth. It’s no wonder Ted doesn’t open up to her if this is the best she can do.
“Turns out he’s pretty good at it. I guess if he’s gonna ditch me at least it’s for something he’s really enjoying.”
“But you’re still getting time with him, right? I mean, American football is what you coached for so long. You must be able to practice together.”
“By the time he’s done with camp he just wants to eat dinner and play his video games. Can’t say I blame him. We went to the state fair last weekend, though. Went on all the rides. Ate all the cotton candy.”
“Those rides always look like they’re a second away from collapsing.”
“I appreciate your safety-first mindset, but I was just lucky to be invited. I could send you pictures, if ya’d like.”
“Please do.”
Ted sighs like a weight has been lifted. “It’s real good to hear your voice, Rebecca. My mornings just ain’t the same without your words of wisdom.”
What words of wisdom? What exactly does she offer to this friendship? She can’t even muster the courage to tell him her mornings aren’t the same either. That she’s come to rely on his presence to start her day the way others rely on coffee or meditation.
“Not to worry, Ted. The whole team will be back at it before you know it.”
She hears herself reinforce the space she doesn’t want, feeling powerless to stop it. Why are her instincts always to do the exact opposite of what she wants to do? They say goodbye and promise to talk again soon, though she’s not sure if they’re being honest.
Her phone vibrates a few seconds after they hang up, as if to instantly answer her doubts. She finds a message with a selfie of Henry and Ted, cheek to cheek at the fair. Ted has pink cotton candy stuck to his mustache.
Keeley was right. She misses his stupid face so much. But, more than that, she’s sure that he isn’t okay. Whether it’s whatever is going on with Henry, or something else he hasn’t told her, she can feel that he needs support.
What does she offer to this friendship if she can’t be there for him, even when he hasn’t asked? She can’t bake a never-ending amount of heavenly treats but she has the means to show up.
Fear flows through her veins, vibrating all the way to her fingertips. But she has to learn how to be brave in spite of it, or maybe because of it— isn’t that what she’s always telling herself? She’s tired of being a coward. What good is knowing how you need to be better if all you do is fail at it?
She takes a deep breath, calls Leslie, and asks for help arranging for a private jet to fly all the way to fucking Kansas.
——————
Rebecca was at least a foot taller than every girl in her class from kindergarten through her A levels but that pales into comparison to how out of place she feels the second she touches down in Kansas. It’s not the boots or the baseball caps. It’s not the accents and the startling shortening of vowels. It’s the aggressive friendliness. Five people say hi to her as she makes her way out of the airport. The first time it happens she’s trying to figure out what the woman wants from her, by the third she realizes they’re saying hello merely because they’re standing close enough to catch her eye-line.
Once outside, a man named Gus approaches her and introduces himself as the driver Leslie set up. She wonders, at first, how he knew who she was. But then she supposes the giant, overdressed British woman isn’t that hard to identify awkwardly lingering outside an airport this small. She asks him for ID which seems like a simple enough request but one he’s clearly amused by; this is the type of place IDs are rarely thrown about because everybody already knows everybody.
She follows him to the car and he helps her with her luggage. She wants to take time on the ride to quietly, mentally prepare to see Ted face to face, but Gus has other plans. As they drive, Gus talks and talks. She half listens while she looks out the window, taking in the prairie’s unexpected beauty (although maybe she should’ve expected it - that the place Ted’s from could surprise her as easily as he did). Everything is so flat, but the sunset is stunning and she feels right. When it comes to Ted, things that shouldn’t make sense often feel right anyway.
By the end of the ride she knows Gus’ entire life story which is filled with hardships he’s never been deterred by. He thought he’d be retired by now, but his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer and he’s driving for extra money to help with the unexpected expenses. He says he doesn’t mind it too much because he gets to meet interesting people, like the owner of a football club all the way from England.
My god, she thinks to herself, both horrified and bemused, I’m surrounded by Teds.
——————
When they pull up to a yellow farmhouse in front of a small creek she thinks maybe she has the wrong address. Gus tells her otherwise, explains that they’ve arrived at the Inn where Ted is staying. He actually knows Ted because their cousins went to school together and sometimes Ted’s mom goes to Gus’ church. It’s not exactly pertinent information except that Gus is sure this is where Ted stays “since the divorce” (said in a hushed whisper, like it’s a dirty word— if only he knew the shit show that was her own divorce, tabloid covers and all). Rebecca thanks him. He gets out of the car and hugs her goodbye.
She walks up to the porch, with its chipped paint and rickety floorboard. It feels so much more like a home than a place of business. She briefly considers knocking, but there’s a we’re open sign on the door that tells her it’s ok to let herself in.
She’s barely a foot inside when the man behind the check-in-desk gasps loudly, startling her enough that she almost drops her luggage. “Rebecca! Rebecca Welton!”
It’s more than aggressive friendliness this time, he’s acting like an A-list celebrity just walked into the place. She tries to figure out if she knows him somehow. He’s not wearing a name tag but there’s a small plaque on the desk that reads Allen and Maeve Peters, congratulating them on 25 years of owning the Spring Creek Inn.
“Maeve!” The man yells again, before Rebecca can react. “Rebecca is here!”
“Rebecca?” A voice replies from the next room. “Ted’s Rebecca?”
Behind the check-in-desk is a bulletin board covered in Richmond merch — everything from posters to flags to a calendar. There’s a picture of the team and several articles about Ted ripped out from magazines. The most prominent is the article about their promotion to the premier league. The shrine is completely out of place with the rest of the rustic décor. Rebecca notices her own picture in one of the articles, which at least helps explain the overreaction to her arrival.
Maeve runs into the room and pulls her into a hug (she’s officially been hugged more times in a few hours in Kansas than in Richmond in the last six months). “Now why on god’s green earth did Ted not tell us you were coming?” She asks.
“He…doesn’t know I’m here.”
Allen apparently wants to remedy that fact as quickly as possible. He heads to the bottom of the staircase and loudly yells Ted’s name, other guests of the Inn be damned. This isn’t at all how she imagined their reunion going. She didn’t think it would involve being accosted by a couple in their 60s wearing way too much flannel, but she’s in no position to stop it.
And then. Finally. She sees him. At the top of the stairs. He’s barefoot, wearing Richmond gym shorts and a plain white t-shirt. His hair is damp and his cheeks are red, like he recently got out of the shower.
“Are you okay?” He asks as soon as he sees her.
Of course it’s the first thing out of his mouth. Of course it is.
“Yes,” she promises before half an explanation stumbles out. “I’m…surprise.”
He descends the stairs quickly and hugs her as soon as they’re face to face. It’s the only hug she actually wanted. The one she traveled all this way for.
“Surprise is right,” Ted says when they part. “I feel like I’m hallucinating right now. Maeve, can you do me a favor?”
“Of course,” she says, all too happy to be involved in the conversation.
“I’m definitely gonna need you to pinch me.”
She pinches his forearm without a moment’s hesitation.
“Thanks. Now, is everyone still seeing the beautiful blonde?
Allen smiles at them. “Sure am, Ted.”
“Well hot-damn Dorothy, what the heck are you doing in Kansas?”
Rebecca can explain herself but not with these strangers staring at her like they’re not strangers at all, like she’s known them her whole life.
Thankfully, Ted senses her dislike of the audience. He grabs her gently by the elbow and leads her into the dining area. “Let’s talk someplace a little more…over here.”
She had her entire trip to mentally rehearse what she would say. She planned to tell him how she wanted a break from Richmond and thought he could use some company with Henry being so busy. In the end, the simple truth comes out anyway.
“You didn’t sound right on the phone. I was worried.”
Ted furrows his brow slightly, like he can’t quite believe what she’s saying. “You flew across an ocean to check on me?”
Her instinct is to downplay it, because the bigness of it is exactly what she doesn’t want between them. “It’s not such a big deal when you have a private jet at your disposal.”
“Right, of course. Like a little taxi ride in the sky.”
“I hope it’s okay. I probably should’ve called.”
The confidence she managed to build up in the car dissipates. She feels as awkward as she imagined she would when Keeley first suggested this.
“You kidding me? It’s more than okay. And calling first would’ve deprived me of not being able to feel my face right now, which is kind of a fun sensation.”
At least she’s not alone in that, though she certainly wouldn’t describe it as fun.
“I’d love for us to jump right into slumber party mode,” Ted says. “But I know how rough that trip is. Having your own, fancy jet might give you better foot room but it doesn’t change the miles or the time difference. What do you need? Food? Sleep?”
She is a little hungry. But she couldn’t sleep on the trip and her limbs feel heavy. She’s exhausted and most of all, incredibly overwhelmed.
Ted’s Rebecca. Ted’s Rebecca?
Why can she hear her heart racing in her ears? She’s sure that if someone was monitoring her heart rate they’d think she was having a cardiac episode. She’s never had this reaction to seeing Ted before (could he feel her heart going crazy when they hugged?) She chalks it up to an unusually long day and decides it’s best to start over in the morning.
“I think I need to sleep, if that’s alright.”
“‘Course it’s alright. The yellow brick road will still be here in the morning.”
“I’m relatively sure the yellow brick road wasn’t in Kansas.”
“Yeah, well your surprise has got my brain all jumbled.”
Rebecca laughs, he does seem discombobulated in a particularly endearing way. “I booked a hotel not far from here, but I wanted to see you first and...”
“Lemme stop you right there,” Ted interrupts. “There’s no way Maeve and Allen are letting you stay somewhere else. I’d personally suggest we skip the part where they try to kidnap you and just let me go get you a room key.”
Rebecca isn’t sure. The whole point of coming was to spend time with Ted, so being close makes sense. But right now she feels like maybe she could use her own space. The space she doesn't want but sometimes still needs.
Ted senses her hesitation but misreads its meaning. “I know it’s nothing fancy here but I promise I’ll get you a top tier room. I’ve stayed in all of ‘em so you can trust me. If I know you, and I think I do, you’re a room 8 kinda gal.”
Rebecca gives in. “Room 8 it is.”
Ted turns around like he’s afraid she might vanish if he takes his eyes off of her for a single second. “How long does the sunflower state got you for, boss?”
“As long as it needs me,” she replies.
——————
She sleeps amazingly well but wakes up way too early, not yet adjusted to the time change. She showers and gets dressed— jeans, sneakers, and a plain white sleeveless button up top. She checks and responds to her emails. She’s also got about ten texts from Keeley asking for updates. She replies with the truth — that all she did was arrive and fall asleep (admittedly she leaves out the heart racing bit). By six thirty she desperately wants a cup of tea and decides to risk venturing downstairs to find one.
She’s hoping she’ll be the only one up and about, but Maeve is sitting at the front desk already. “Can I get you anything, love?” She asks as soon as she spots Rebecca.
“Tea? If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“Of course. Follow me.”
Rebecca trails behind her into the kitchen where she’s overwhelmed by the scent of freshly baked bread. “It smells delicious in here.”
“I do some baking for local stores in the area. I’ve heard you’re a big fan of biscuits. I’m the one who taught Ted to bake.”
“Really? I did wonder where he picked up that skill.”
“We’ve known his family for a long time. After his dad died, his mom worked a lot. Ted would come here a few nights a week. He baked with me or helped Allen out with the chores.”
“It’s good he had a safe place.”
Maeve gestures to a stool next to the kitchen island. Rebecca sits down while she puts on the tea.
“It was a mean thing you did, you know — making him move his whole life when you wanted him to fail.”
It’s a gut punch she wasn’t prepared for, especially before caffeine. She does know. Of course she does. Ted's empathy and forgiveness doesn’t mean she has forgiven herself or ever will. She doesn’t need anyone to remind her of the things she still hates herself for. She reminds herself all the time.
“But it turns out it was exactly what he needed, wasn’t it? And now look at the two of you. Meant to be in each other’s lives. Sometimes God has a way of laughing at our little plans.”
Rebecca isn’t sure about that. She knows it worked out with Ted in the end. That he changed them all for the better, despite Rebecca’s intentions. She’s grateful every day that her ugly plan led to something beautiful. But if she’s being honest, Ted aside, she’s quite tired of being mocked by the universe or god or whoever may be in charge of the karmic balance. Just once she’d like to make a plan for her life and have the universe support it instead of laughing as it all goes to hell in front of her.
“Michelle was always trying too hard to be nice, if you ask me,” Maeve continues. “She walked on eggshells because she thought Ted couldn’t handle things. All that did was make things worse. The resentment. The way she let it build while he kept trying so hard. It wasn’t nice. It was terrible. Way worse than you hoping he couldn’t actually coach your soccer team.”
Rebecca hates that she’s invested in what is dangerously close to gossip, but the perspective from someone close to the situation is intriguing. Ted has witnessed Rupert’s treatment of her, has been able to see it all for himself. Rebecca has very little insight into Ted and Michelle’s dynamic.
(She also can’t help but wonder if this is what it would’ve been like to grow up with a mother who was soft and loving with her honesty. To sit together in the early morning light over tea and just talk. Maeve is stoic in a way Rebecca relates to but she’s still gentle and kind like Ted. It’s a far cry from her own mother, the inconsistent tornado who bursts in and out of sanity.)
“Ted and Michelle were a terrible match. Always thought so, but hated to be proved right. She made him feel small. He drove her crazy. I can already tell you two are better suited. You appreciate him as he is because you saw it from the beginning, even before you understood it. That's important.”
The implications are all wrong. Rebecca isn’t sure what to say, but her silence has gone on too long and she needs to say something. She settles on a fact she’s already accepted and ignores the rest. “Ted is…one of my best friends.”
Maeve looks like the answer somehow both heartens and disappoints her. “I know, sweetheart.”
——————
An hour or so later over breakfast, Ted slips a piece of paper across the table.
“I wrote this when you went to sleep last night.”
It reads:
Rebecca’s Kansas to do list:
- Witness a prairie sunrise
- Go to Menards
- Eat at Culver’s
- Purchase and wear cowgirl boots
- Attend an American football game
- See the sunflower fields
Some of it doesn’t surprise her, but other parts sound like another language entirely. “What’s Menards?”
“Not what. Where. The question is ‘where is Menards?’ And the answer is heaven.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re just gonna have to see it to believe it.”
It would be easy to let Ted do what he normally does - mask his pain with high energy and seemingly unbridled joy. Rebecca will happily play along with his list, join him on whatever outings he plans for them. But she also needs to know exactly what her Ted Lasso alarm system has been trying to tell her.
“Ted,” she says seriously. “What’s been going on here?”
“Well Allen just repainted the staircase banister and Maeve joined a book club. I tried to crash a meeting but it’s more exclusive than you’d think for a group of women reading Reese Witherspoon’s recommendations.”
“Ted,” she repeats, trying to focus him. “What’s been going on with you?”
He squirms, looking physically trapped when he can’t make a joke. She wishes she could still his mind, if not his body. “It’s okay,” she says, vaguely but with encouragement.
“Nothing is the same,” he finally admits. “Or, no. That’s not right. Maybe everything is the same. Except me. I don’t...fit. There’s this whole life here and it used to be mine and now I don’t belong to it anymore. That probably doesn’t make sense.”
Perhaps it wouldn’t to other people, but Rebecca feels it in her bones.
“It makes perfect sense. To me at least. The life I had with Rupert…when I look back, it feels like someone else now. I know it’s very different because of Henry. The stakes are much higher for you. But I do understand.”
“It feels like he doesn’t care that I’m here,” Ted confesses, his heart breaking with every word. “I know it’s partly his age. It’s good he has friends and that he’s so involved with a team. I know how much that can change things for the better. But I built up this visit so much in my head, you know? Imagined all the things we’d get to do. Don’t think we’ve done half of ‘em.”
“But sometimes it’s the little things that are most important, isn’t it? I’m sure Henry doesn’t need anything grandiose, he just needs to spend time with you.”
Ted looks unconvinced, like something else is festering beneath the surface. And then— “Michelle is seeing someone.”
“Oh.”
Maybe that’s the crux of the matter. Rebecca knows what that’s like, too. Not to be the first to move on. How badly it hurts to lose a silent competition you never wanted to enter.
“And I dunno, I can’t help but think maybe Henry isn’t as excited I'm here because he’s got another father figure around now.”
Rebecca has been replaced in the cruelest of ways, publicly and purposefully. But Ted? It’s an impossibility. “No one could replace you, if that’s what you’re implying. You are literally the most irreplaceable person I’ve ever met.”
“Just cause this guy can’t rock a mustache doesn’t mean Henry doesn’t look up to him or rely on him now. And it’s awful of me to not want Henry to have someone to rely on when I’m not even here. So now on top of the regular guilt I feel like garbage for feeling hurt.”
“You have every right to feel upset, but did you ever think that maybe Henry doesn’t feel pressure to spend every second with you while you’re here because even when you’re not you make sure you’re involved in his life? He’s taking you for granted, sure. But the fact that he is means he doesn’t feel like you’re some resource that’s about to run out. He trusts you’ll always be there for him whether you’re in Kansas or not.”
“I sure hope so.”
“I’m clearly not an expert in this subject but kids don’t have any real sense of time, do they? They think they have forever. Henry hasn’t had that bubble burst for him. Perhaps that’s a good thing. Kids aren’t meant to see the world like we do. Not yet.”
Ted nods like maybe he’s heard her. He reaches across the table and squeezes her hand like maybe he knows how hard it was for her to get him there.
“Thanks, boss. I know it probably would’ve been more convenient if I poured my heart out on FaceTime but I sure am glad you’re here.”
“Nonsense. If this had been FaceTime I wouldn’t be eating the most insanely delicious Danish I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Hey, be careful now. I’m gonna start getting jealous if you like Maeve’s baking better than mine.”
“Never,” she promises before picking up his to-do list. “Now, where to first?”
——————
Menards is just a store as far as Rebecca can tell, but for some reason Ted is obsessed with it. He sings the jingle in the car on the way there, the lyrics promising they’re going to save big money (not necessarily one of her priorities but it’s a catchy tune nonetheless).
Inside everything feels too big and bright in that uniquely American way. Ted takes her to the grocery aisle first and starts gathering snacks she couldn’t get in Richmond. He’s ranting about Goldfish and Cheez-Its and promising that Graham Crackers might change her whole outlook on life. He pushes the cart like an overexcited kid in a toy store and tells her that they should add a bonfire with s’mores to their Kansas list. Maybe she’s not technically helping him with real problems but at least he’s distracted and not alone.
One aisle over Ted takes her to the lightning department. She’s flown to another country to see him and she’s looking at… lamps.
Ted watches her stare in confusion. “Now, I know what you’re thinking.”
“You absolutely do not.”
“You’re thinking, ‘why is this crazy man making me look at lamps?’”
“Okay, fine. Maybe you know a little of what I’m thinking.”
“But what ya gotta appreciate is that we were grocery shopping a minute ago, right? And if we take a few more steps to the left we’re going to be in the jewelry aisle.”
“Jewelry?”
“Yes ma’am. Because when you’re shopping for lamps and groceries, sometimes you’re overwhelmed with the need to buy heart-shaped jewelry.”
He’s so damn worked up about selling her on the place that she can’t help but play along.
“Maybe I should buy Keeley something. As a souvenir of this apparently infamous establishment.”
“Now that’s the spirit. What kind of lamp do you think she’d like?”
“Not a lamp, you goof. I meant jewelry.”
“Right, right. Makes more sense.”
Rebecca laughs, something snapping sharply into focus as she does. She might indeed be thinking about the crazy man making her look at lamps, but she’s also thinking something else. It flashes through her mind against her will, against the logical part of her that would argue the comparison isn’t fair.
Because Rebecca is thinking that she was married to Rupert for twelve long years and never once had as much fun as she’s having standing in the lighting aisle with Ted Lasso.
——————
Ted pulls into the parking lot of a shopping mall, and Rebecca wonders what he’s planned now. He’s got a devious look on his face, like he’s half suppressing a smirk. “Where are we going?” She asks.
“Shoe shopping.”
“You weren’t serious about the boots, were you?”
“If it’s on the list it’s gotta get done. You had your chance to veto and you said nothing.”
Rebecca spots a store from the car and realizes exactly where he’s taking her. “Oh no. Yee Haw Country Outfitters?”
“The one and only.”
“Ted. Nothing good can come from a store with ‘Yee Haw’ in the title.”
“Oh I disagree wholeheartedly. Many good things can and have come from this very store.”
He gets out of the car, makes his way to her side to open her door for her (he always does this, even back home, she’s grown accustomed to it). She follows him because she’s fully committed to the day, despite the Yee Haw of it all.
It’s not just boots inside. There’s a tremendous amount of clothing she’d never wear (but who exactly would wear a brown and white cow print jacket with fringe?) and even barbecue products. She’s as confused as she was in Menards.
While she walks around, Ted gets stopped by a group of people he clearly knows. Rebecca overhears them catching up and talking about some night out they had together years ago. Everybody knows everybody and everybody knows Ted. It’s not lost on her that he hasn’t just left his son to work for her, but his friends and neighbors too. His whole life, Maeve said. All of it. What can Richmond ever offer in return?
She’s thinking too hard about that question and staring at bedazzled jeans when Ted taps her on the shoulder. His smirk is no longer half-suppressed, but fully bloomed as he hides something behind his back.
“What do you have there?” She questions skeptically.
“Do you trust me?”
“In general? Of course. In this store? Debatable.”
“Sit down and close your eyes?”
Another unfair comparison sneaks up on her as she remembers the days of Rupert picking out her clothes and shoes with the purpose of degrading and controlling her. It’s the opposite of what’s happening here. Ted is sharing a place he loves, pieces of himself. And she is safe enough with him to know he wouldn’t care if she told him and his boots to fuck right off.
She sits down on a small bench and closes her eyes because unfortunately she does in fact trust him, even in Yeehaw Outfitters. She feels Ted take off her sneakers and slip boots onto her feet.
“Alternative universe cowgirl Cinderella,” he jokes.
When she opens her eyes she finds that the pair he’s picked out are brown at the bottom and a very specific color up the sides. “Biscuit box pink,” she remarks.
“Like ‘em?”
She does. Not because she has a sudden desire to attend a rodeo, but because Ted found something that’s theirs in a place as foreign to her as this. “They’re perfect.”
Without warning, he plops an off-white cowgirl hat on her head to complete the look.
“I’m absolutely sure the hat was not on the list.”
“I snuck it on while you were distracted.”
She stands up, walks over the closest mirror. “How do I look?”
“Like if Diane Sawyer and Annie Oakley had a baby.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
“As a compliment. Half class, half cowgirl.”
She feels his eyes all over her. She tries to ignore the warmth emanating from him so she can take in her own appearance. It feels like a costume in a way, but she can’t say it’s as bad as she would’ve thought. “I look….”
“Amazing,” Ted completes. “Like you belong here more than me.”
She turns around to face him. “Speaking of — how come I’ve never seen you wear cowboy boots? You’re obviously very familiar with this store.”
“I come for the baseball hats and the barbecue sauce. I can’t pull off the boots cause I don’t have your legs.”
“I don’t know. I saw you in those gym shorts last night.”
What the fuck? Are they…flirting? Flirting is definitely not on the list. She’s sure of that because Ted looks as shocked as she feels.
She redirects them to safer ground. “I guess I’ll be buying these, since they’re on the list and all.”
“I’m glad you’re embracing the cowgirl life, but to be clear the boots are on me.”
“Ted, no. That’s truly not necessary.”
But he’s not having it. “I came up with the list. They’re on me.”
——————
Rebecca has given up the hat but is still wearing the boots when they pick Henry up from camp. Apparently the arrangement is that Michelle takes him in the mornings and Ted picks him up. Rebecca doesn’t really understand why Henry isn’t staying with Ted but it’s not her place to ask. She offers to be dropped back at the Inn to give them father-son alone time, but Ted insists it’s not necessary because Henry has to be home by 7:30 anyway. Rebecca has to bite her tongue harder on that one because she firmly believes Ted should be able to decide when to bring his own son home.
“Hey kiddo,” Ted greets a sweaty Henry as he climbs in the backseat. “We’ve got a very special guest tonight. You remember my boss, Rebecca?”
“Hi!” He sounds excited to see her, until he considers a concerning possibility. “Did something happen with the team? You don’t have to leave, do you?”
“No, no,” Rebecca jumps in. “He’s not going anywhere. I just came to visit.”
“Cool.”
She’s sure it would be cooler if Roy Kent or Jamie Tart were visiting. But more importantly, Henry does not sound like a kid indifferent to his father’s presence. She wonders how much of Ted’s interpretation is being driven by his own insecurities. She would never judge him for that, considering she’s been ruled by hers for years.
“Dad, can we get Culver’s?”
Rebecca recognizes the name. “Isn’t that on the list?”
“What list?” Henry asks.
“Your father has created a list of things I apparently must do while I’m here and Culver’s is one of them.”
“Because Culver’s is the best,” Henry agrees. “You should get the chicken strips. But the frozen custard is the most important part.”
Rebecca thinks of the Danish and Goldfish and Graham Crackers she’s already eaten today. “I’m going to gain ten pounds on the trip,” she says like a reflex.
“Hey now,” Ted objects. “First off, everybody knows vacation calories don’t count. Second, we don’t need to be worrying about all that to begin with.”
She’s suddenly embarrassed because she’s probably setting a terrible example for Henry, which is the last thing she’d ever want to do. It’s exactly how the cycle continues, isn’t it? Repeating the terrible things you’ve internalized because they were repeated to you. Sometimes she thinks it’s for the best that Rupert made sure she wouldn’t have a chance to screw up another generation.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Rebecca offers, before realizing her next mistake. “Oh god, I shouldn’t have said shit either.”
Henry and Ted both laugh.
“Now that part I can let slide,” Ted reassures her. “This boy has grown up in locker rooms. Trust me when I say he’s heard a lot worse.”
“Last time I came to visit I was with Roy for a half a day and it was the most cursing I’ve heard, worse than any of my video games.”
When they arrive at Culver’s they order food (she let's them do the ordering for her) and settle at a picnic table on the lawn. Watching Ted with Henry is a gift. She listens to them talk, the way it comes so naturally. The love is palpable. They include her too, though she’d be happy to simply witness them interact with each other. Henry asks her questions about what it’s like to own the team. While he does, Ted gets up to get more napkins, leaving them alone for the first time.
“You should come to my game tomorrow” Henry proposes. “We’re playing kids from another camp.”
“I’d love to,” she says honestly. It’s an honor that he’d ask.
“Mom is bringing her boyfriend, so it’d be nice for dad to have someone he loves there, too.”
Someone he loves. Henry means platonic love, clearly. The way he loves his friends, his teammates. He has that now. His own team. She’s sure that’s what he means to compare it to. Not his mother and her boyfriend. He’s only a child. She’s wearing cowgirl boots and eating frozen custard and it’s not the time to overreact.
“Well, watching an American football game is on the list so it works out for everyone.”
“I dunno. Dad probably meant a real game.”
“I’m certain your games are real games. And besides, I’d rather see you play anyway.”
Henry smiles at her with Ted’s smile and it knocks the breath right out of her.
——————
That night, Ted makes a bonfire outside the Inn by the creek. They sit together roasting marshmallows in comfortable silence until he pulls out the list, impressed by the progress they made in such little time.
“What a productive day.”
Ted checks Culver’s, Menards, and cowgirl boots off. But he doesn’t do so like a normal person who strikes a line through every task they’ve completed. He makes a small check mark and a smiley face next to each one instead.
“It was productive,” Rebecca agrees. “I only have one complaint really.”
“The humidity?” Ted guesses. “Bug bites?”
“No. I have the fucking Menards song stuck in my head.”
“Oh yeah, it’ll get you every time.”
Maeve and Allen walk over to them, arms around each other. They remind her a bit of Leslie and Julie. Often Rebecca tries to comfort herself by saying true love is hard to find. Yet the proof of its existence is around her all the time, taunting her for being the one person who can’t seem to achieve it.
“Bad news,” Allen says with a frown.
“No bad news by the bonfire,” Ted protests. “Everybody knows this is a bad news free zone.”
“Not bad news,” Maeve corrects. “Just inconvenient. I’m afraid we’ve got new guests checking in tonight and we need Rebecca’s room.”
“No room at the Inn?” Ted gasps. “You sending Rebecca out to the barn?”
Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Despite his dramatic biblical humor, that's perfectly fine. I’m sure I can still get a hotel room.”
“Absolutely not," Maeve shakes her head. "You and Ted can share. He’s in our biggest room anyway.”
Rebecca wants to get up and run. She’s spent the whole day involuntarily contrasting Ted with her ex-husband. And yes it was the best day she’s had in months but that’s exactly why she needs to cut it off now. Every day can’t be like today and there’s no reason for her to start thinking otherwise. Days like today don’t turn into nights, they end and remain outliers.
“You said he’s one of your best friends,” Maeve reminds her.
Ted’s entire face lights up. “Really? You did?”
Two years ago she wouldn’t have believed it, a year ago she wouldn’t have wanted to admit it to him. But now? Here? It’s useless to deny. “Yes, I did.”
“And what’s better than spending more time with your best friend?” Allen asks.
She’s going to kill these people and their Midwest mind games, wrapping kindness up with practicality in a way that feels impossible to argue with.
“Whatdya say, boss? Up for that slumber party?”
He looks so hopeful. Her Ted Lasso alarm system has been quieted by something else, something she can’t identify. It’s yelling at her, loud and forceful, but she can’t make out what it’s saying just yet. The fear is back at her fingertips, her heart is once again pounding in her ears. She channels the vibrating and drumming into the strength she needs to muster an answer.
“Slumber party it is.”