Chapter 8
A couple of days after Christmas, reports started circulating about an attack at the Harris Estate in Astbury that included an assault on Gareth Harris and a “female companion.” Suddenly, this typically private Manchester United defender was all over the news.
There were photos of Gareth’s home taken from helicopters, including images of him coming in and out of his house.
For two weeks straight, sports reporters remarked on when Gareth would return from his injury as they showed shots of him standing on the sidelines at games and practice.
I never paid attention to how much media coverage he receives.
Now that I am, I’m not sure I like what I see.
As a result of the extra publicity, Gareth’s agent advised us to stay apart for a few weeks to make sure the “female companion” doesn’t get a name and face.
I am more than okay with it, especially since I am still recovering from everything that happened.
Although my bruise has faded, it weighs heavily on my mind that the police still haven’t found who attacked us.
Gareth spent an insane amount of money on a high-level security system at his home and insisted on installing the same at mine. Normally, I’m all “independent woman, hear me roar,” but I couldn’t object after being attacked. Certainly not when I have Sophia to consider.
The entire situation got me thinking, Is this really the kind of life I want to drag my daughter in to?
I was so close to having my name and my personal life splashed all over the press.
Sophia’s face could have ended up in the papers as well.
How would Callum handle that? Would he accept it?
Could it complicate our custody agreement?
There is so much for me to consider because my life is not my own.
The control I experienced in Gareth’s home during our previous agreement was a ruse.
An escape from reality. We were playing make-believe, and I realise that time is over now that so much has happened.
I’ve just settled Sophia into bed after picking her up from the Lake District when my phone rings on my nightstand.
Despite the anxiety I have over Gareth’s newfound spotlight these days, I’ve grown quite accustomed to the evening phone calls we’ve been having since his manager told us to stay apart two and a half weeks ago.
Our chats have been very surface level, but there’s something nice about having someone to talk to as I get ready for bed.
“Hiya,” Gareth’s deep voice husks into the line.
“Hey,” I reply, biting my lip and wincing at the breathy tone of my voice.
“Sophia in bed?” he asks.
I nod. “She is. She’s always exhausted after being at Margaret’s.”
“Ah, the scary, immortal grandmother.”
“The one and only.” I huff out a small laugh and roll my eyes. I’m amazed by how easily Gareth takes everything pertaining to Sophia in stride. I know he’s older, but it blows my mind that he cares about me after finding out what I hid from him for so long.
Gareth clears his throat and says, “So, I’ve been giving you time to think it over, but I need to know your answer.”
“My answer to what?” I ask as I toss a pair of Sophia’s socks into the hamper.
“Will you come with me to Cape Verde?” he asks, his voice taking a more formal tone.
My heart drops. This is the conversation I’ve been avoiding because I know Gareth won’t like my answer. With a deep breath, I reply, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Because you’ve been all over the media these last couple of weeks. I know you play professional soccer and you’ve always been a bit famous, but the attack changed things. To see your house splashed all over TV is really scary, Gareth.”
“So I’ll move!” he replies flippantly, like it’s the solution to our problem. But it’s not.
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“Sloan, the press have already backed off a lot. I’ll be old news in a couple more days.”
“Until something else happens.”
“Nothing else is going to happen.”
“You can’t guarantee that,” I argue as I drop down on my bed, holding my face in my hand and hating that I have to do this already.
I’ve loved our nightly talks and having someone checking in on me.
Even if it has been all surface level conversation, it’s nice having someone care.
But I’m living in a fantasy and I have to stop.
“I have Sophia to think about. I don’t want her life to be turned upside down because her mom is dating a famous athlete. ”
“You think I haven’t thought about Sophia?
” he exclaims. I can just see him gripping the back of his neck as he growls his frustration into the phone line.
“Sloan, I haven’t stopped thinking about Sophia since I met her on the football pitch and noticed that she has your eyes.
I know Sophia is your top priority and I’m fine with that. Hell, I love that about you.”
Wait, did he say love?
“I need you to give me a chance to show you.”
“Show me what?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest over the pain of losing him so soon.
“That you matter, too. That we matter, too. That there can be room in our lives for all of it. I mean, bloody hell, I fucking miss you, Treacle. Don’t you miss me?”
My insides squeeze in on themselves from his remark. I miss him more than I’ve let myself fully admit. Honestly, the thought of not seeing him ever again nearly gives me the same anxiety I have when Sophia is at Callum’s every other week.
“Yes, I miss you,” I answer.
“Good,” he exhales with relief and adds, “Then don’t take me out of the game before I’ve had a chance to play.”
It’s those knee-trembling words from Gareth that have me sitting in my closet one week later, packing for a trip to the Cape Verde islands with the entire Harris family.
For a woman who had complete control over a man only weeks ago, I sure wasn’t able to put up much of a fight.
And when I mentioned taking a vacation to Callum, who couldn’t have cared less, I knew I really didn’t have any reason to say no.
Plus, I think part of me knew that I would live my entire life wondering what Gareth and I could have been if I didn’t give him this trip or the chance to show me his dominant side at least once.
“Mummy, why can’t I come with you on your holiday?” Sophia asks as she pulls down one of the evening gowns I used to wear when I attended events with Callum.
“Vacation, Sopapilla. Americans call it a vacation.” I reach over top of her and pull down my giant suitcase from the shelf.
Sophia rolls her eyes at my correction, then steps into a long, sequined, silver gown that sparkles under the closet lights. “I really want to go on your vacation. You’re going to a beach and I love beaches.”
I drop down on my knees to open my empty suitcase. “You have school, sweetie. We can’t take you out of school.”
She pulls the thin straps of the dress onto her shoulders and shuffles over to my wall of shoes. “Callie says no one likes African beaches anyway.”
I look up from my suitcase and blink. Sophia has been dropping Callum’s girlfriend’s name more and more lately. I can’t say I’m a fan, especially when it’s this kind of shit. “Callie says what exactly?”
“She says the beaches are dirty there.” Sophia steps into a pair of black stilettos and teeters awkwardly for a moment.
I have to hold back my knee-jerk reaction of wanting to rush over to Callum’s house and punch Callie in her overly Botox-injected face.
What kind of bullshit is that woman filling my daughter’s mind with?
Instead, I reply through clenched teeth, “Well, don’t believe everything Callie says, Soap.
The beach I’m going to seems beautiful in the pictures. ”
“Then why can’t I go?” Sophia stomps her foot, looking seven going on seventeen. The hem catches under the heel and she begins falling over, taking a row of shoes down with her.
I rush over and catch her under the arms just before she topples to the floor. Stray shoes collect around us. Once she’s propped back up, Sophia’s big brown eyes find mine. Her little bushy brows scrunch as she hits me with a sassy look. “I’m cross at you.”
I can’t help but smile and kiss her forehead. She’s so cute, even when she’s mad. “Sophia, sweetie, I would love for you to come, but it’s your week with Daddy. He needs his time with you just like I do.”
“Daddy is always working,” she harrumphs as she reaches out and begins playing with the long necklace I’m wearing.
“I have to sit with Callie after school and she’s boring.
She likes really stupid telly where people are always shouting at each other, and she’s not even watching it most of the time because she’s staring at her mobile. ”
My body grows tense from her words. Callum demands fifty percent custody but from what I can tell, Sophia sees Callie and her grandmother more than she sees Callum. It’s enough to make me want to scream.
I pull Sophia down onto my lap and tuck her head under my chin, relishing in the weight of her against me. “I’m sorry Daddy is so busy, Soap. But I think just knowing you’re at his home makes him happy, so try to keep that in mind.”
“Why do you have to go, Mom?” she asks, clearly stating “mom” instead of “mum.” I notice she says it the American way when she wants something that she knows I’ll say no to. My little girl can be really damn clever when she wants to be.
“Well, Mommy hasn’t been on a trip by herself in a very long time. Not since before you were born.”
“Really?” she asks, snuggling into me. “How come?”
My heart grows heavy as I recall all the years we spent in and out of hospitals and staying home to ensure Sophia didn’t come in contact with germs when her immune system was suppressed.
Even our trips back to America after we moved to England were limited because I didn’t want to put her health at risk.
“Do you remember your sickie days? When we had to go to the hospital a lot?” I ask.
Sophia grows quiet for a moment, but I can feel her head nodding. “A little bit.”
My lips curve up into a small smile. “I’m glad you can’t remember it all because those were hard times for us. We were very busy, and there wasn’t a lot of time for extra things since we were so focused on making you better.”
She exhales heavily. “Fine, you should have a holiday I guess. But that means you have to take me on a holiday next time I have no school.”
“I said it’s called a vacation!” I growl playfully. She falls back onto the floor as I tickle her sides mercilessly. She erupts into a fit of giggles, and it’s the best freaking sound of my entire life.
Every day that I put Sophia first and didn’t travel or take time for myself was well worth it because of this moment right here.
The flush of her glorious, healthy cheeks as she squirms away from me is a beautiful sight.
She’ll be eight years old in a couple of months, and her five-year remission milestone comes soon after that.
She’s not the sick baby she was so many years ago.
Yes, I’m nervous to leave her, but I need to see this thing through with Gareth. This trip will be a good test to see if we can be great together like he thinks we can. Then I’ll decide what part he’ll play in my future and with Sophia.
My phone vibrates on the floor behind me, so I take a break from Sophia tickles to see that it’s a text from Gareth.
Gareth: I can’t wait to see you again.
Me: Me too. I’m just packing now.
Gareth: Good. The car will be at your house to pick you up at eight a.m. tomorrow.
Me: I’ll be ready.
Gareth: You better be.
Me: Is that a threat? :)
Gareth: Treacle, I have plans for you these next few days. The doctor has cleared me of my injuries. I’m back at practice and nearly at 100% again. And I haven’t seen you in three weeks. This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.
Me: Yes, Master. ;)
Gareth: Fuck me, I think I like the sound of that.