ROME
Chapter twenty-nine
“You good, mate?” Sergio asks.
I force a smile. “Yeah, just shit sleep.”
He nods, brushing it off as he moves toward his car on the other side of the underground car park. Unlocking mine, I throw my bag to the passenger seat and deflate into the driver’s seat.
What do I do? How do I tell my mother her husband is a piece of shit who has been having an affair for who knows how long? How do I tell my sisters their father is an ass? Do I tell them? I need to tell them, right? The more I prolong it, the worse it will be.
I’m annoyed with Rain that he didn’t give me this information earlier so I could deal with it how I wanted. While I’m thankful my sisters are with me and not in a toxic environment, it’s only a matter of time before Dad will come back to take them.
He’s right—they aren’t my children.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I turn it on, rolling my eyes at the million bloody texts from Rain. He’s smart; I thought space would be a word he knew the definition of.
Rain: Stop hanging up on me.
Rain: You can block my number again. I’ll just unblock it.
Rain: Tell your team doctor about your foot. I’m concerned about it.
Rain: Also, tell your team masseuse not to go too close to your ass, cock, or face. I’m getting pissed off at the mere thought of anyone touching you.
My stomach sinks at the next IG notifications.
Connor_row: Can we talk? I miss seeing you.
Connor_row: I meant what I said that night. I love you, Rome.
I cared about Connor; it was four months of us seeing each other before Rain demanded I stop.
I felt horrible when those three words came from his mouth, and I just stared at him, unable to say it back.
I didn’t feel it, or rather, I didn’t feel what I thought I was supposed to when you love someone.
I became reserved towards him the three times I went there after he said it.
He played it off and told me I didn’t need to say it back, and I thought maybe if we spent more time together, I’d start to feel the same.
The more I tried to force the feeling, the more I realised I never would.
Opening the app, I click on his profile and block it, then read the last text.
Mum: Good morning, sweetheart. Text me after training. I want to talk about Indie and Kilah.
Either I’m about to be face to face with both my parents because this is an ambush, or she will try to tell me what Dad did in a more civil manner.
Me: Meet me at the park, you know the one.
My grip tightens around the umbrella handle as I approach the bench, carrying two takeaway cups. The chilling breeze whips through her hair as she stares out to the trees of Hyde Park. It’s the same seat she always sat in while rocking the twins in their pram, as I practised football.
Everything seemed so simple, and then you grow up and realise just how callous and sharp society is. I still love this spot, though. Nature doesn’t judge you.
As though she can sense me approaching, she looks over her shoulder with a sombre smile. I round the wooden chair, partly kept dry by the trees overhead, and sit beside her, extending the tray.
“You’re so thoughtful, Rome,” she laughs delicately, taking a cup.
“Not sure where I got it,” I tease, taking my own and closing the umbrella.
She takes a sip of the warm tea, letting out a long sigh. “Mr Finch makes the best tea in London.”
I tip my cup to her, agreeing.
My mother’s different in my father’s absence.
She doesn’t feel the need to keep up her appearance as much.
She is beautiful, and I fear that’s the only reason my father sought her.
He was well known and wanted someone he could show off, rather than someone he truly cared for.
I’ve started to notice over the last four years how much he controls her, the way she dresses, her actions and words.
Whenever they’re in public, she looks to him after speaking, almost as if for conformation her words were okay.
He was twenty-eight, she nineteen when they met. She fell in love, he saw someone he could mould and manipulate.
She runs her unsteady hand down her white woollen coat and then adjusts her Gucci scarf, one I have no doubt I paid for, considering how new it looks.
My father was irresponsible with his money, and his retirement only got him so far. I’m starting to think now that maybe that’s the only reason he ever wanted me to achieve the level I’m at. Money.
“I know you aren’t happy Kilah and Indie are with me,” I say, staring out into the open area before us.
“They don’t want to come back, do they?” Her voice cracks.
“They’re trying to sort through how they’re feeling. Kilah said you both take your anger out on her.”
She sniffles and clears her throat. “Your father and I haven’t been in a good place for a few years now.
I admit my wrong in taking out my frustration with him on her.
It was never right for me to do so. When you called and said they wanted to stay with you again, it gave me time to reflect on my actions and how they’ve impacted the girls…
and you.” A lump swells in my throat as I adjust my black coat, trying to ease the sudden chill.
“Your father said you’ve started seeing Rain. ” She smiles softly.
“It’s complicated, but Dad made his reservations known.”
“I’m sorry.” She sucks in a fractured breath, losing composure. “For treating you how I did the day you confided in me, for my comment at that table a few weeks ago, and everything in between.” Tears burn my eyes as her gloved hand strokes my cheek. “I do love you, Rome. All of you.”
I swallow my tears and nod. “Thanks, Mum.”
“Oh, my boy. I am so sorry.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her head to my shoulder when she sobs. “It’s okay, Mum.”
Her head scuffs against me, shaking in disagreement. “I’ve failed all of you so many times out of fear of your father.”
“He’s cheating on you,” I whisper.
Her sobs halt, and then she laughs. “Son of a bitch, I fucking knew it.”
“You did?”
She lifts her head, and I wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I had my suspicions. He was leaving at odd times, saying he was going to the golf course or to see friends.” She rolls her wet eyes. “Your father has people who tolerate him, but no friends.”
She’s right. “I’m sorry, Mum.”
She waves me off. “At least I have one man in my life who is a true gentleman.”
“Moi? I’m honoured.”
She tuts, pushing my shoulder. “I wanted to thank you for standing up to him in a way I was always afraid to. You protected your sisters.”
“I’ll protect you too, Mum. I don’t like the thought of you being uncomfortable.”
“My battles are not yours to fight, Rome.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”
Her lips purse, and she drops her head. I know she’s meant every word; and her lack of acceptance for the last seven years isn’t swept away and forgotten, but she was scared to speak up. I understand that.
“Can I hear about Rain?” She waggles her brows, nudging my shoulder.
She’s trying to get to know me better. I appreciate it, and I guess we need to start somewhere.
“You’re blushing,” she teases.
“Mum,” I groan.
“Come on.” She taps my jean clad thigh. “Tell me.”
After briefly explaining everything that has happened since I met Rain, her mouth is agape, and I don’t think she’s blinked the last minute.
“Rome,” she berates. “That man does not sound safe.”
“Believe me, I know, but like I said, we aren’t together. He’s trying to force his way into my life.”
“Do Indie and Kilah feel safe around him?”
“Oddly, yes.”
“Do you?”
Her question gives me pause. He broke into my house, multiple time at that, but my feelings toward him are a turmoil of gravitating toward him and wanting to run the hell away.
He scares me, but part of me knows that he would never allow anyone to hurt me.
I want to believe he wouldn’t hurt me either.
“Yes,” I answer, although the word comes out unsure.
“Well, at least you know if you don’t want him around, the girls will chase him away with a frying pan each.”
The psycho would probably laugh while they did, waiting for them to fall asleep before he climbed through my balcony window to suck me off.
I’ve needed space to sort through my family problems and my head.
My mother turning a page and making the effort to accept me differs from coming out to the rest of the world.
I don’t know if I’m ready for that, and Rain’s the jealous, possessive type who would display our faces on a billboard to stake his claim.
Mum relaxes a little, tilting her head as she stares at the grass before us with a lost gaze and a small smile.
“I’m proud of you, Rome. Your father always claimed to have made you the player you are, but that was all you.
” I hide my smile with my cup as her gaze slides to me.
“To see you out there playing with and against people you once looked up to…It’s inspiring to see how much you still love what you do.
You’ve made your dream a reality, and very few people achieve that. ”
“I did it with help.”
“Coaching and support only go so far.”
She may be right, but without her driving me to games and training, I wouldn’t have become better. Granted, I was stubborn—I would have walked there myself if needed, but I guess she’s referring to my drive to achieve the highest level I could.
There were many times I was frustrating for my coaches—I’d ask many questions and insist on running through a drill over until I perfected it.
I’d even made a few coaches stay after the rest of the team left, just so they could work one-on-one with me.
Of course, my parents were required to pay for their time.
I guess that’s why I feel I owe them money, for what they spent financially and time-wise so I could achieve my dream.
The day I signed those papers should have been the happiest moment of my life.
And it was…for five minutes.
My mother was crying and holding me, confessing how proud she was.
Then she looked to my father and let go.
He shook my hand and nodded. Since I came out to them at thirteen, shaking my hand is the only contact he’ll allow himself to have with his son, as though touching me will taint him in some way.
Mum’s smile falters. “I can understand your hesitation toward sharing yourself with the world.” I drop my head, the soothing tea now churning in my stomach.
“People will judge you no matter what you do. Miss a goal, get a goal—they’ll still judge.
Be who you are, hide it away; that choice is yours to make.
I’m sorry that I made you feel you had to hide it. ”
I nod, the rain starting to pour again. Pushing up, I open the umbrella. Holding the handle and my cup in one hand, I extend the other to her. “A gentleman would not allow you to walk to your car alone.” I dip my chin. “Or in the rain unsheltered.”
She wraps her arm around me, resting her head against my shoulder as we walk. “I love you, Rome.”
“I love you too, Mum.”