Page 30 of Tattered Edges

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I managed to say, accepting her confident handshake.

“She brought crisps, darling. Shall I put them in a bowl?” asked Graham.

“Sure,” she answered before she told me, “I made pot stickers. Was just getting ready to take them into the next room. The match’ll start soon.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” asked Rory as he passed by us, headed for the fridge.

“He’s got a full bar. Occupational hazard. Anyway, works in our favor. Don’t hold back,” insisted Graham, extracting a bowl from an undercounter cabinet.

I laughed softly, looking between the two men. It was obvious they’d been close for years. It didn’t seem to bother Rory at all that Graham was just as much a host in his home as he was.

“Water will be fine. Thank you.”

Maya grabbed the platter of pot stickers, then pointed her chin at the small stack of plates as she asked, “Would you mind grabbing those for me?”

I did as she asked, following her to the coffee table in the living room.

“So, tell me, how is it that you became a Manchester United fan?”

Maya signaled that I should sit, and I took the spot on the far side of the sofa while she sat closest to me on the loveseat.

“Oh, well, it’s a little embarrassing but—when I was around twelve, I saw that movieBend It Like Beckham. My mom was never really into sports, so I didn’t have a ton of exposure to them. When I got sent to boarding school, my roommate was really into soccer. David Beckham in particular. By then he wasn’t playing for Manchester, but she followed the team, and I got into it, too. In a way, soccer is what got me through boarding school.”

“You mean football,” said Rory.

I looked up and found him standing next to me. He was no longer holding Daisy, but he had a glass of water in one hand and a beer in his other.

I smiled at him as I accepted the water and replied, “Mmhmm. Exactly.”

He shook his head at me, but I could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. There was something in those blue eyes that made me believe he was teasing. I watched as he set his beer on the coffee table before heading back for the kitchen. Admittedly, he was still as debonair and fascinating as he had been the night we first met. Now that I was in his home, perhaps even more so.

“I don’t think that’s embarrassing,” said Maya, earning my attention once more. “Beckham’s a looker even now. I’m sure he’s attracted more than a few people to the sport.”

“He was never hot enough to get you into it,” joked Graham as he entered the room with a bowl full of crisps and Daisy on his heels.

“You’re not into football?”

“I’ve spent enough time with these two to understand it well enough, but I don’t get into it like them. Not the Premier League, anyway. I do like to watch the countries play for the World Cup, though.”

“And what made you a Man-U fan?” I asked Graham as he took the seat next to his wife.

“Oh, I’m not,” he replied before popping a chip into his mouth. “I’m usually just here for moral support. You guys seem to lose more games than you win these days.”

I pressed a hand against my heart and feigned offense. “Ouch!”

“We beat you lot the last we played,” argued Rory from the kitchen.

“Yeah. That was thelastmatch you won.”

I tried to think back to the last match we won. Graham wasn’t wrong. We hadn’t had a winning record in a while. When I remembered, I gasped, “You’re anArsenalfan?”

Grinning, he replied, “You really know your stuff, don’t you?”

“Don’t let him fool you,” said Maya, resting a hand on her husband’s thigh. “He’s not as loyal a fan as Rory is. But they do love to rib each other.”

“What about you? What made you become such a loyal fan?” I asked the man of the house as he returned to the living room.

He had a glass of wine for Maya and a beer for Graham.

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