Chapter 22
Over the next few weeks, life becomes a bit unusual. Photos of me and Gareth at the funeral appear in several gossip magazines. My website engagement spikes to an all-time high, and my dormant Instagram profile that I set up for my business suddenly gains twenty thousand new subscribers.
I also get a handful of phone calls from potential clients who are searching for custom designs. Freya is busy vetting everyone to establish if they are legitimate. If they are, we may be running a slightly different business in the near future.
I even receive a couple of emails for interview requests which Gareth instructed me to forward to his agent. I suppose this is what dating a Manchester United athlete gets you.
But Gareth takes it all in stride, clearly used to ignoring this sort of attention.
He told me that it’s the way his father raised them.
No social media and no interviews unless thoughtfully coordinated.
Vaughn’s ideals are also why Gareth doesn’t have excess staff members or luxury vehicles and homes like other athletes.
The Harris family—dynamic and interesting as they may be—tends to keep a low profile for the most part.
It’s kind of a relief. It means that when Gareth’s not travelling or training, he’s at my house, just being normal despite the current attention we’re receiving.
We have dinner together with Sophia and Freya.
Then Freya and I try to hide our heart eyes as we watch him play with Sophia in the garden nearly every evening.
For being a highly-paid, highly-famous athlete, Gareth is very good at the whole domestic, average life thing.
It makes me think there’s a good chance for some normalcy once he decides to retire someday.
And after the argument Sophia broke up in the kitchen between Gareth and I, it’s clear she’s getting very attached to him.
The notion scares me because I don’t want her to become overly dependent on him.
There’s still so much that can change between us.
There’s no ring, no commitment. And even that doesn’t guarantee anything.
I mean, he’s still a famous soccer player—modest as he may be. Who knows what our future holds?
I’m riffling through my closet, on the hunt for Sophia’s umbrella, when my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s Callum. He’s due to pick up Sophia in an hour, so seeing his number gives me a bad feeling.
“Hello?” I answer, my voice wary.
“Sloan, hello. Look, I’m not going to be able to take Sophia this weekend.”
“Callum, don’t do this,” I reply through clenched teeth. “You already cancelled your weekend with her two weeks ago, and she was so disappointed.”
“I know, but I’m swamped at the office and Callie has family in town.”
“So take Sophia!” I exclaim, my voice high-pitched. “You two are engaged! I’m sure Sophia would love to meet some of her future family.”
“Sorry, not this time.” Callum’s voice is so smooth and business-like, my anger spikes.
“Callum, you can’t keep doing this,” I grind out. “She just lost her grandmother whom you knew better than anyone. She could use your comfort right now. Please don’t cancel on her again. At least take her to lunch or something.”
“Sloan, look, I have to go. Tell Sophia I’m sorry.”
With that, he hangs up, my phone going silent as I begin to tremble. Releasing a mighty cry, I chuck my phone against the closet wall and cover my face with my hands.
As the tears begin to fall, I’m wrapped up in warm, strong arms. Gareth’s scent falls over me as he turns me to face his chest and shushes me while dropping soft kisses in my hair.
“What happened?” he asks, his tone ominous.
“Callum cancelled on Sophia again,” I croak, my voice muffled against his chest. “This is going to crush her. I could kill him.”
“Not if I get to him first,” Gareth retorts, his arms tensing around me.
I pull back and swipe furiously at my tears.
“He just makes me crazy because, if this is how our future is going to be with him, I’d rather he disappear forever than disappoint her every other weekend.
At least when Callum and I were together, it was easier to conceal these disappointments from her. ”
Gareth’s face tightens at my last remark, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches me. “Do you want help telling her?”
I jerk my head from side-to-side. “No, she’s my daughter. I will tell her.”
With a heavy sigh, I move past him to walk out of my closet and go find Sophia. Gareth wraps his hand around my wrist to stop me. His eyes are pleading on mine when I look back and he states, “Sloan, I can help.”
My posture straightens. “It’s okay. I can handle it. Why don’t you go downstairs while I deal with this?”
Sophia sobs in my arms for twenty minutes straight.
In those twenty minutes, I think of forty-seven different ways I can murder Callum and hide the body so no one finds out.
After she calms down, she asks for some privacy.
I decide to take a hot shower, hoping like hell a solution to this mess will come to mind while I do.
When I come out of my bedroom to check on Sophia, I overhear her mumbling, “I hate my dad.”
My heart aches for the pain in her voice, but I slow my steps when I hear Gareth’s deep chuckle carry down the hallway in response to her comment.
“Hate is a strong word, Little Minnow.”
“I know, but he promised last time he cancelled that we’d go see Rex at Grandmama’s lake. I miss Rexy. He must wonder where I’ve gone.”
I tiptoe closer so I can hear Gareth’s reply.
“Well, hopefully your mum can take you out there sometime soon. I think there are still some grown-up things of your grandmother’s that need to be sorted first.”
Sophia harrumphs. “I still hate him.”
I peek around the doorway and nearly die when I see the two of them face-to-face, stretched out on their bellies as Sophia paints Gareth’s nails. Gareth’s big hand is splayed out on a towel as Sophia sticks her tongue out while trying to keep the polish brush straight.
He watches her for a moment before saying, “You know, my dad used to let me down a lot when I was your age.”
Sophia lifts her wide eyes. “Really?”
Gareth nods. “I used to get so mad at him, I broke my own toys just to let off some steam.”
She nods thoughtfully and looks back down as she dips the polish brush back into the bottle. “I’d rather paint your nails than break my toys.”
Gareth chuckles. “I really do like this colour.”
“Me too!” she exclaims as she dabs more on his pinkie finger.
“It’s the same red as my team’s colour. Perhaps I’ll leave the polish on for my game tomorrow.”
Sophia giggles and shakes her head in disbelief. “You wouldn’t do that.”
Gareth narrows his eyes at her. “You’re right. But I will leave one painted if it cheers you up.”
“It will, it will!” she peals with a giggle that makes my heart soar with joy. She continues painting for a moment before asking, “Do you like your dad better now? He seemed nice at the hospital.”
Gareth smiles. “You know what? I do like him better now. I think some men just need a bit more time to grow up than others.”
Sophia’s brow furrows as she thinks that through. “I’m glad you’re all grown-up already, Gareth.”
“Me too, Little Minnow. Me too.”
Sophia finishes Gareth’s nails and smiles big. “I’m all done!”
With a quick roll-over onto his back, Gareth sits up, careful not to bump his nails on anything as he checks out his new manicure. “Tell you what. I’ll leave two nails painted for the game tomorrow. One for you and one for your mum so that you guys know I’m thinking about you during my home match.”
“That’s perfect!” Sophia squeals happily and begins putting the nail polish away.
“Perhaps your mum will even let you come to a match one of these days.”
Sophia’s eyes fly wide and she turns to look right at me, like she knew I was standing here the whole time. “Can we, Mum? Can we?”
My face heats with embarrassment as Gareth gives me a look for shamelessly eavesdropping. I cross my arms and shrug. “Sure, we can go to a football game.”
“Yay! When?” Sophia asks, turning to Gareth, who smiles brightly at her.
“How about tomorrow?” Gareth waggles his fingers at me with a sexy smirk. “I got my nails done special for it.”
Old Trafford is insane on game day. With my experience styling loads of athletes and their wives or girlfriends, I knew what to expect for the crowds.
Admittedly, though, I’ve never actually sat and watched a match in the WAGs section like I’m planning to do today.
And I certainly never had Sophia in tow like I do now.
Sophia’s eyes are wide and flying all over the place as we make our way up to our seats. The music is loud, and the seventy thousand people filing into the park are positively buzzing with excitement. Even a non-soccer-fan like me can’t help but get caught up in the energy.
Old Trafford itself has always had an amazing sense of soul and history. You truly do feel like you’re a part of something special when you walk through the gates.
The WAGs section has a bit more subdued energy as Sophia and I find our seats.
It’s full of women who are in no way kitted out in game day gear like Sophia and I.
Instead, they are completely dolled up with full hair and makeup, high fashion outfits with killer high heels, and designer purses that cost more than my car payment.
They look fantastic.
I look like the mom who just spent two hundred pounds in the gift shop to buy a couple of jerseys with HARRIS written on the back to make her child happy.
There are a few other moms with children in tow, but the kids are so glued to their handheld devices, they don’t even notice the excitement buzzing around them.
I see a couple of my clients and wave to them. They politely wave back, but I can feel them eyeing me speculatively through their giant sunglasses. Then I see a client dressed exactly like me.