Page 87 of Surrender
“That’s your sister?” I ask because I’m still forcing myself to believe it. “I’ve…never met her.”
“Tonight’s sort of a family affair.” He shrugs.
“How wonderful,” I reply hopefully. “Did your dad make it?”
Gareth’s face darkens and the muscle in his jaw ticks. “No.”
I’m instantly transported back into Gareth’s house. Back into the beautiful sanctuary that his home became for me. For us. Back into the moments of tender sharing that we only scratched the surface on.
There’s still so much I don’t know about him, yet I know enough to know the pain behind his reply. I force a wobbly smile. “Well, it’s nice your siblings could be here for you.”
He nods and looks back at them. “They all head back tonight, though…Games tomorrow.” He turns his eyes to me. “It’s good to see you. Are you here with someone?”
I shoot him a shy smile. “Hopefully you.”
The serious look on his face disappears. It’s replaced by a knee-trembling intensity that I can’t seem to look away from. It’s like a wall has dropped and he’s not holding anything back now. “What does this mean?” he asks, his voice deep and melodic.
“We’re friends.” I shrug and step closer to him, running my hands along the lapels of his jacket. “That’s all I know for certain at this point because this is complicated. I’m a mother and I have baggage we need to discuss. But I do know that I care about you and want to be with you tonight.” I tilt my head to look up at him through my long mascaraed lashes. “Is that enough?”
He stares down at me. Longing, and pain, and desire flick across his face like a slideshow just for me. “For now.”
With sweet, sweet relief, I reach out and grab the pocket square out of his jacket. “You look incredible.”
His chest vibrates with a silent laugh. “I know this woman who thinks she’s just a stylist, but she’s so much more.”
With a proud smirk, I refold the fabric the way I want and tuck it back into the pocket. “Is that right?” I look up at him and feel a riot of butterflies take flight in my belly.
“I’m always right,” he replies with a wink, then turns on his heel to offer me his elbow. “Are you ready for this?” he asks, staring down the red carpet like he can see the future.
“I’m ready for this and more,” I state with a meaningful look that he picks up easily. Then, off we go down a path I never saw myself travelling with a damn soccer player.
It’s an uncomfortable feeling to go from having a relationship with someone where you never leave the bedroom to being thrust into the limelight in front of friends, family, and, let’s face it, the rest of the world.
The entire first hour, I’m on the red carpet with Gareth in a flurry of photos, handshakes, and interviews. His brothers disperse, answering their own questions to the press, but they eventually make their way inside with their sister. Gareth, on the other hand, is moving at a much slower pace through the crowd, giving generous time to all the media outlets that are in attendance for him this evening.
Despite being the man of the hour, he is determined to pull me into every conversation. I do my best to be polite, but I can’t help but fidget when he continually introduces me as an up-and-coming designer. This isn’t something I was prepared for this evening, and the questions directed my way are not things I’ve considered yet.
Gareth gracefully dodges questions about the status of our personal relationship and pretty much anything pertaining to his father. He’s so damn charming, offering only a wink and a smile, they let him get away with it.
Above all, it’s an enlightening hour for Gareth Harris history. With every reporter’s question, it’s like hitting another Google search on the man whom I know intimately but not publicly. He’s being honoured tonight for his outstanding season and the work he’s done with his charity, Kid Kickers. He speaks so passionately about soccer, but when he mentions the children he gets to help because of his career, I have to admit to tearing up on more than one occasion.
It’s Gareth’s turn to get emotional when the press discuss the World Cup team potential with him. At one point, when he talks about playing alongside all of his brothers again, he presses his fist to his mouth to fight back the reaction that caught him off guard.
This man is so much more than I ever let myself see before.
When we finally make our way inside, the event coordinator ushers Sloan and me over to a large round table where my sister, my brothers, and Hobo and Brandi are seated. Their eyes are locked on the two of us holding hands, like we’re some sort of foreign objects they’ve never seen before.
Let them fucking look.
I’m done with the games. I’m done with the arrangement. The bullshit. The back and forth ghosting. I know part of me could be angry at the fact that Sloan went silent on me for an entire week, but she’s here now. Her hand is squeezing mine in a death grip, and a woman’s touch has never felt more right to me.
“Are these two seats taken?” I ask with a teasing waggle of my brows when we reach our extravagantly decorated dining table. My family and friends groan and roll their eyes at my daft question as I hold Sloan’s seat out before sitting down beside her. I unbutton my suit jacket and place my hand on the back of her chair. “Most of you know Sloan, but allow me to formally introduce you all. This is Sloan Montgomery. Sloan, this is everyone.”
I gesture across the table and point out Camden, Tanner, and Booker. Then I introduce Vi, who’s shamelessly shooting daggers at my Treacle. No surprise there. She’s in protective, fearsome mother mode, full stop, and I know there’s not a bloody thing I can do about it.
Sloan finally turns her attention to Brandi and Hobo, who are sitting on the other side of her. Her shoulders relax at the sight of a couple of familiar faces.
“Jaysus, this is a fancy soirée,” Hobo states, counting the number of forks on the table as several servers begin placing starters in front of us. “All for the likes of you, Harris? Don’t they know you’re rubbish on the pitch without me?”
