CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN #2
“YES!” I pump my fist in the air. “This is just like when we beat Alabama my sophomore year and everyone rushed the field! I’ve never heard a stadium this loud!”
Around us, fans break into a coordinated chant that sounds more like a military drill than a celebration. The men behind us launch into what appears to be a full-blown choreographed routine, complete with hand motions.
“What are they singing?” I ask Jack, barely able to hear myself over the noise.
He listens for a moment, then laughs. “Something very unflattering about the Australian fullback’s dating history. Trust me, you don’t want the translation.”
Madison is still jumping, her face flushed with excitement. “That was INCREDIBLE! Did you see how she stayed inbounds? ONE LEG, Mom! ONE LEG!”
Jack turns to me, face flushed with excitement, eyes bright with joy. Without warning, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me—deeply, passionately, right there in the middle of the cheering crowd.
When he pulls back, there is something different in his eyes. Something I haven’t seen before. Raw emotion, unfiltered by his usual careful restraint.
“What was that for?” I ask, breathless.
“For being here. For bringing Madison. For—” He gestures around us, at the stadium, at New Zealand. “For understanding why this matters to me.”
Madison finally notices, raising her eyebrows. “Geez, get a room, you two.”
Jack laughs, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a half-hug. “You’re just jealous you don’t have my rugby knowledge, Madison McKenzie.”
“McKenzie?” She looks startled, then grins. “I’m a Mitchell, thank you very much.”
“For now,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it.
The implications hit me like a physical force. For now. As if there might be a future where that changes. My heart does a complicated little stutter that has nothing to do with the game unfolding before us.
“Are those real flames?” I ask as fire shoots up from the corners of the field after another New Zealand score, desperate to distract myself from the sudden rush of emotion.
“Pyrotechnics,” Jack confirms. “They do it for every try.”
“Like touchdown flames! Awesome!” I cheer as the crowd roars again. “Wait, what just happened? Is that more points?”
“Conversion!” Madison explains importantly. “Two more points after a try!”
“Look at you with all the rugby knowledge,” I say, genuinely impressed by how quickly she’d picked it up.
She beams. “Jack explained it all. It’s actually pretty easy once you understand the basic rules.”
The rest of the match passes in a blur of shouting, cheering, and Jack patiently explaining rugby’s Byzantine rules. The Black Ferns win 27-18, and the crowd is delirious with joy.
As we file out of the stadium, Madison chattering excitedly about Thompson’s “impossible try,” Jack’s hand finds mine, fingers intertwining naturally.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For what?”
“For sharing this with us. For making Madison so happy.”
His smile is like sunrise breaking over mountains. “This is what I wanted—to show you my home, my world.”
“I like your world,” I tell him, and mean it.
Despite the lingering questions and all the things we still need to discuss, in this moment, everything feels right. Jack’s hand in mine, Madison bouncing ahead of us in her new jersey, surrounded by the joyful chaos of post-match celebration.
◆◆◆
Back at the hotel, Madison is still buzzing with excitement, scrolling through her phone to show us highlights that are already being shared online.
“Thompson’s try is trending worldwide!” she announces. “Look, even ESPN posts it!”
“I’m going to grab a shower,” Jack says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Back in a few.”
As soon as he disappears into the bathroom, Madison flops onto the couch beside me.
“So,” she says, trying and failing to sound casual. “He called me Madison McKenzie.”
“I heard,” I reply, equally casual.
“And I think we can both agree that it was not accidental.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he was just caught up in the moment.”
“Mom. He said ‘for now’ when I corrected him.” She gives me a significant look. “You heard that too. I saw your face.”
“I did,” I admit.
“So…” Madison draws out the word. “Is this, like, a serious thing?”
I consider my answer carefully. “It feels serious. But we’re still figuring things out.”
“You’re happy, though,” she says, not a question.
“I am.” I smile at her. “Are you? With all this? With Jack?”
Madison nods emphatically. “He’s cool. Not trying too hard like Dad’s girlfriends. And he actually listens when I talk.” She hesitates. “Plus, he looks at you like you’re…important. Like he actually sees you.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “That’s a pretty mature observation.”
She rolls her eyes, teenage nonchalance returning. “Whatever. I’m just saying he’s not terrible and I wouldn’t, like, die of embarrassment if he stuck around.”
“High praise.”
“The highest.” She grins, then grows serious again. “So when are we going to see his family tomorrow, right?”
I nod. “That’s the plan. Flight to Queenstown in the morning, then to see his family the next day.”
“Do you think they’ll be nice?”
“I’m sure they will be,” I say, though a small flutter of nervousness awakens in my stomach. “From everything Jack’s told us, they sound lovely.”
“I wonder if it’s like a little family operation or something bigger,” Madison muses. “Jack never really says much about it.”
I’d wondered the same thing. Jack had been deliberately vague about most aspects of his family business, mentioning only that his sister Charlotte handles most of the operation now.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” I say, pushing away the nagging questions that had been accumulating.
I have to admit, the discrepancies between paramedic Jack and New Zealand Jack are gnawing at me a little.
The comfortable hotel, the car service, his sister’s ability to secure “impossible” rugby tickets.
But then I remember his face during the match, the pure joy in his expression, the passionate kiss, the way he’d included Madison in everything. Whatever else is going on, that connection is real.
The shower shuts off, and moments later Jack emerges, hair damp, wearing a fresh t-shirt and jeans. He smiles at us both, and my heart does that ridiculous flip again.
“So,” he says, dropping onto the couch beside me. “First time at a proper rugby match. Verdict?”
“AMAZING,” Madison declares. “Can we go to another one before we leave?”
“I’ll see what we can arrange,” Jack says, his arm slides naturally around my shoulders. “What about you, Sophia? Did we convert you to the religion of rugby?”
“I’m a believer,” I confirm, leaning into him. “Though I reserve the right to ask stupid questions for at least three more matches.”
“Fair enough,” he laughs.
As Madison launches into an enthusiastic recap of her favorite moments from the game, I watch Jack’s face—the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the attentive nod when Madison speaks, the casual comfort of his body next to mine.
Whatever questions tomorrow might bring about vineyards and family businesses, tonight we are just three people enjoying each other’s company. That feels like the most important thing of all.
For now, we are just a family, celebrating a victory.
And maybe that is enough.