Page 110 of Play On

I sigh as I look at my laptop on Sunday night. I’m back in the library at Wintersmith Hall, having seen Noah off late this afternoon. I’m reviewing my schedule for the week, and I see I’m scheduled to work in the gift shop on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. Mum will probably want to do a shopping expedition on one of those days off, too.

I add all these dates to my diary, and then I do something that will lead to the wildest risk I’ve ever taken in my life.

I look up flights from London to Australia.

As I wait for flights to populate, I think of how everything went with Noah this weekend. Yesterday, we spent all day at the beach, content to be with just each other. We swam in the sea. Playfully chased and splashed each other in the water. Went for fish and chips and had ice cream with Flakes in them. It was a perfect, blissful day, and we came home exhausted but happy.

Today, we spent a leisurely morning in bed before coming back to Wintersmith Hall to have Sunday roast with my family. Noah was polite and engaged both my parents in conversation, and he left a wonderful impression on them. I knew by the end oflunch that they didn’t just see him as a footballer, but as a good man, and that means everything to me.

Noah delayed his return, extending his time as much as he could, and even with that, I felt anxious and sad when he had to leave. Noah held my face in his hands and promised me he would see me this week—even if he has to drive up and back on the same day to do it.

And I know he will.

He has shown me the kind of man he is all weekend long.

Now it’s time for me to show Noah the kind of woman I am.

And that is a woman who will fly around the world for the privilege of watching him play.

I open another tab and look up the Stonebridge United Australia Tour schedule on their website. Okay. I know I can get an itinerary for the team from Bella—she’ll know it because of Camden—and I’ll have to allow time to travel halfway around the world and get there in time for the match.

I frown. This will involve maths.

I hate maths.

One day I’ll tell Noah I knew I had to be in love with him when I sat down to do mathematical calculations to figure out how I was going to get to him in another country.

I grin and take a look at the flight schedule. It looks like I can leave Heathrow at eleven o’clock in the morning, arrive in Perth at eleven-forty the next day—a sixteen hour and forty-five-minute flight—then take a three-hour flight from Perth to Melbourne, arriving by six forty-five on Wednesday night.

That’s nearly twenty-two hours of air travel.

I would need to be in London on Monday night, depart Tuesday morning, sleep as much as I can on the plane, get into Melbourne long enough to eat and check into my hotel, then get some more sleep before heading to the match on Thursday. Noah told me he’ll have that evening off, so we can get togetherthat night before he continues his tour on Friday, and I head back to the airport to fly back to London.

This is crazy.

I also notice the price of the airfare, which is several thousand pounds.

I gulp. I do have this in cash, as I’ve got a trust fund from my grandfather and I live at home, so I don’t have many expenses. I’ve even managed to save some of my gift shop salary over time, too.

I’d still have to buy a match ticket, pay for a hotel, and account for food—this is going to be one very expensive one-day trip to Australia.

But if anyone is worthy of this, it’s Noah.

Could I wait for him to play in England instead of running off to Australia to see him? Of course I could.

But I won’t.

Noah would never expect me to make this kind of an effort to see him.

Which is exactly why I want to do it.

Nobody, besides his dad, has made an effort to watch him play. There’s been nobody there, year after year, to cheer for him. To be someone he could look to in the stands when he needed support. Noah had to watch his teammates have girlfriends, partners, wives, friends, family all be at games to cheer their player on.

He had no one.

Tears fill my eyes when I think of it. How every time he stepped onto that pitch there was nobody there for him. He won the ultimate titles you can win in football—the Champions League and the Premier League—with nobody caring enough to show up and watch, let alone celebrate it with him.

I know some of it is Noah building a wall around himself. Being too afraid to let anyone ever get close enough to him to hurt him the way his mum and brother did.

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