“For the foreseeable future, I suspect. At least until that baby arrives. She’s apparently whip-smart in the retail industry so she’s helping Freya with negotiations on a contract of some sort. I don’t know much about it. Roan was saying a lot of words about it this past Sunday, but Vi was making Swedish pancakes, so I was mostly just focused on making sure I got my fair share. Bloody love Vi’s Swedish pancakes.”
Tanner continues rattling on about food, clearly having forgotten the fact that I don’t just have history with Mac’s wife, I have history with his sister, Tilly. History that I can’t seem to forget no matter how hard I try.
Before I can think better of it, I hear myself replying, “I’ll be there.”
“At the event? Excellent! You’re always very free with your riches.” Tanner pulls up his clipboard and scribbles my name down. “And your plus one?”
“No plus one.” I wince as a flash of my latest ex, Bria’s, sad face crosses my mind. “Just me.”
Tanner’s face falls. “Oh, bloody hell, the two-month chump strikes again?” I growl with annoyance at the American nickname our scout in the states dubbed me with a few years ago. It’s been picked up around the changing room with the players and I bloody hate it. “Come on now, what was wrong with Bria? She too pretty? Too successful? Oh…did she cook with too much garlic?”
“Sod off,” I grumble. “I’m Italian, so garlic is basically a food group. We just weren’t right for each other.”
“Booker owes me ten quid,” Tanner replies with a laugh as he refers to his younger brother, our goalkeeper. “I don’t know why he thought Bria would be different for you. Hopeless romantic, that one. The team should have started a tally on how many birds you’ve dated in the past few years. I’ve never seen a bloke serial date as much as you. It’s like you’re on a mission to find every single female in London.”
I shake my head at that grim take on my dating status. Bria was the closest I’ve come to someone I could actually see being with long term. She was smart, loved to travel, and enjoyed cooking. She ticked all the boxes I thought I’d want in a partner. But…there was no spark. My Italian nonno once told me that la famiglia is everything. They are your every day, always. And if I am with a woman who I care about, I should tend to her the same way I attend to my basil plant on my balcony…with love, care, and plenty of water. If I am with a woman who I don’t want in my every day, always…I must stop watering that plant and let it go. Unfortunately, Bria wanted a sprinkler system installed.
I shoot Tanner a dubious look. “I have to admit that picking up random birds at nightclubs with you Harris Brothers was a lot more fun.”
Tanner laughs. “We had some top nights. However, I can’t say I truly miss them. Going to bed at eight o’clock with Belle has more perks than I’d ever imagined. Seriously Santino, if you find a woman who’ll be your small spoon, you better not toss her after your two-month test run. Spooning is life.” Tanner waggles his eyebrows playfully before turning on his heel and calling over his shoulder, “See you later.”
As soon as he’s gone, I immediately exhale the tension I hadn’t realised I was holding in my shoulders. Just the mention of Tilly’s name has thrust me back to moments of the past. Moments that I’ve tried for years now to forget. Christ, what’s it been…four, five years?
Tilly and I met at a nightclub in Soho just after Mac signed on with Bethnal Green. I was out partying with the team as I often did back then, and Mac’s sister showed up to meet him, and well… let’s just say she didn’t leave that night with her brother.
I swallow the knot in my throat as flashes of our multiple late-night trysts play on repeat in my mind. God, she was beautiful. And wild and outspoken. And her Scottish pride was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen in my life. The best part was, she wanted nothing serious. We were both out for a good time, so it was the perfect situation.
That is until everything changed.
And I still can’t forget her final words to me.
“You’re not some knight in shining armour. You’re just a whore meister with a guilty conscience.” I’ve carried the weight of them with me ever since. I think it played a large part in why I eventually quit having casual sex. That and the fact that every single mate of mine was getting married and having babies. When the infamous Tanner Harris became more settled than me, it was time to take a hard look in the mirror at myself.
However, I have not had the Harris luck. I have been stuck in these endless cycles of monogamous dating that never seem to work out. But no matter how many women I’ve tried to connect with, no one seems to fit. No one seems to match that idea I have in my head for a partner who could be my every day, always. I am determined to succeed at this the same way I did with my career.
However, when the past reappears, that means something, right? Tilly Logan isn’t just the cliché “one that got away”. She’s the one who literally ran away. When she moved from London back to Scotland, she left me with a million unanswered questions.
Maybe if I got some answers, I could move on with my life and stop being a two-month chump. And maybe if she’s back in London, things will be different for her now, too? Things are certainly different for me. More than I ever imagined possible.
“Jesus Christ, is there a reason our entire living room is covered in pet shite?” My brother’s Scottish accent is thick with his displeasure as he loosens the black tie around his neck.
Freya and I look up from our work to stare at my big brother, standing in front of their ancient fireplace. His large frame looks like he’s about to burst out of the black suit that he wears to work every day now. Quite different than his football kit he wore only a year ago.
I close my laptop and glance down at our mess of pet clothing spread out on nearly every square inch of their sitting room. “There is a method to our madness, Mac,” I state defensively.
Freya adjusts her position on the sofa where she’s lying with her feet propped up on a pillow. “Don’t make a fuss. Tilly and I are doing important work here. We’ll be done in a tick.”
“You’re not supposed to be working,” Mac growls and pulls his tie off over his head, messing up his red hair that’s a few shades darker than mine. He tosses it onto the nearest armchair currently covered in plus-sized cat pajamas. That tie is lost forever now.
“I’m on modified bed rest, not full bed rest!” Freya tuts, her Cornish accent getting thicker with her own displeasure at her husband butting in where she clearly doesn’t want him. “It’s as if you have amnesia and forgot what the doctor said!”
I have to bite my lip to hide my amusement. Mac told me Freya starts to sound like Hagrid when she gets upset, so I’m just waiting for her to drop a hard Harry Potter at the end of her sentences. She rubs her five-month pregnant belly protectively and narrows her eyes up at her husband.
My brother crosses his arms, clearly in no way deterred. “If it were up to me, you’d put a pause on this entire business until that wee bairn is out safe and sound.”
“Mac! That’s what I’m here for!” I exclaim, once again coming to the defence of my poor sister-in-law. Good God, being married to my brother has to be awful for her.