Page 75 of We'll Meet Again

“Tough to say,” he answered. “I mean, Chelsea’s kinda my dream club, I hate the thought of taking them on for a cup final.”

“And you haven’t played them in the regular season yet,” she pointed out.

“Exactly. I mean, the team has, but not while I’ve been with them.”

“And Liverpool?”

“I’d love a re-match after how the last one went,” he said. “But for the FA Cup…that’s a different kind of pressure. They really gave us a shellacking.”

“But they don’t have as much to prove,” she said. “They’ve won FA Cups before. There’s no way they want it more than you lot do. And honestly, that’s half the battle.”

She took another sip of coffee. He plated up a few pancakes and served them to her, along with some syrup, which she drizzled over them. He got his own plate as well and cut off the skillet.

“We’re kinda getting ahead of ourselves,” he said. “I mean, there’s no guarantee we’ll beat Arsenal tomorrow, they’re having a great season.”

He took a seat beside her at the table, and she took his hand, meeting his gaze and holding it.

“You’ll win,” she said firmly. “I know it.”

He grinned. “You know, it’s a shame this sport don’t have cheerleaders because, I declare, you’d be a great one.”

She smirked. “I would look fit as fuck in one of those little outfits, wouldn’t I?”

“You’d look dynamite, darlin’.”

She giggled and went back to her breakfast as Ethan started on his. They had only a few moments of peaceful silence before there was a knock on his door. He shot Billie a bewildered look.

“You expecting anyone?”

“It’s your home,” she replied through a laugh.

“Be right back.”

He got to his feet and went to the door, looking through the peephole just to be safe. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. He yanked the door open with a grin.

“Grandma!” he cried.

“Surprise!” Betty said, throwing herself into his arms..

Laughing, he caught her and pulled her close, breathing in her familiar scent, relishing in the feeling of her hugs. It was hard to believe they had already been apart for nearly four months. But she was just the same. Her outfit was put together and stylish, along with her carefully selected jewelry and makeup. It was the most welcome sight.

“What are you doing here?”

“You think I’d miss my grandson playing at Wembley Stadium in the FA Cup semi-final?” she shot back. “You couldn’t keep me out of that game with a firehose.”

He chuckled and let her inside. “Where are you staying?”

“A hotel nearby,” she said. “I didn’t want to intrude on -” She stopped short when she spied Billie at the table, who looked mortified as she attempted to cover her legs a little with the jersey. “Well, something like this.”

“Hi,” Billie said, her voice breathy and several octaves higher than usual. “I…so desperately wish I had on trousers right now, I’d be much more delighted to meet you.”

Betty threw her head back and laughed. Billie visibly relaxed, her shoulders sagging and letting out a breath.

“Oh, honey, believe me, I’ve been caught in much less than that,” Betty said. She strode over and extended her hand. “You must be Billie. I’m Betty, Ethan’s grandmother, and I’m definitely pleased to meet you, britches or no britches.”

Billie shook her hand, her cheeks still glowing pink. “Nice to meet you too.”

“My goodness, you are even prettier in person,” Betty went on.

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