Mistletoe & Matchday
Chapter sixty-one
Eslin
The field is still glowing from the wedding—strings of lights draped from goal to goal, white tents breathing out soft heat, evergreens threaded with ribbon along the touchlines.
It smells like winter and sugar. The team is scattered in little clusters, balancing champagne flutes and plates of cake, ties loosened, cheeks pink from cold and relief.
Family and a few friends fill the rest. Zoey Sharpe hovers near the edge of it all with her notebook, quiet and watchful, the only outsider invited in.
Their ceremony was elegant, simple—so Marlow. She wore an Italian lace gown with a chapel-length veil. Declan wore his Atlanta Strikers uniform, and the Strikers—his groomsmen—wore theirs. I’ve never been a part of something so liberating but welcoming at the same time.
Perfect.
I’m standing with Marlow and Tatum under a tent that looks like a snow globe cracked open. Marlow’s dress catches every light; she looks like the best secret I’ve ever kept.
“You look ridiculous,” I tell her. “In a good way.”
“Stupid-level beautiful,” Tatum adds, eyes wet. “And you can’t even see your baby bump.”
Marlow gasps. “Are you joking?”
“Yes,” Tatum says with a straight face. “You don’t look like you weigh more than a hundred pounds.”
Marlow exhales, then turns to us, voice thick. “You two…thank you. For being my rock. For holding my secrets. I’m going to try not to ever put you in that position again.”
“Noted,” I say, bumping her shoulder. “But if you do, we know where the shovels are.”
She laughs, wipes at the corner of her eye. “And you’re one to talk!” She says, joking and we all laugh again.
Laughing with them has become my favorite pastime.
I glance around the tents, the corners, the shadows. “Whatever happened to Shaun Kennedy? Did Niko find him?”
Marlow scans the field like she’s expecting him to pop out of a cooler, then shrugs. “No one has heard from him in a week.”
That feels too heavy, too ominous for the moment, so I force a half-smile, add a little shrug, and let the words tumble out. “Damn shame what they did to that dog.”
Tatum snorts, then full-on cackles.
Marlow blinks. “I don’t get it!”
“Never mind,” I say. “Next girls’ night, we’re watching Coming to America.”
Arms slide around Marlow’s waist from behind. Declan pulls her into his chest, mouth at her temple. “You ready to go, Senora Agassi?”
Tatum and I both swoon on cue, because we’re not completely made of stone.
Marlow tilts her head up, kisses him, her eyes shining. “Sí, Senor Agassi.”
His brows lift, his grin spreading wide. “Look at you, already sounding like a true Italian bride.”
She grins. “I’ve been practicing on an app. Figured I should learn Italian.”
Across the tent, Grant laughs at something Xavier says, then catches my eye and makes his way over to me.
The look we trade says it all—we survived today, and somehow made it beautiful.
I open my mouth to tell him how handsome he looks, but Xavier and Will call him back with that polite, no-nonsense tone that means now.
He groans under his breath. “They want to finalize things,” he mutters. “Handing everything over to Marlow, for good.”
“The control freak is finally giving up control, huh?”
His grin is easy, boyish. “Trading one addiction for another,” he quips, then dips in, pressing a quick, certain kiss to my mouth.
Tatum clutches her chest dramatically, whispering, “Lord, have mercy,” and I can’t stop my smile from spilling wide.
“Well, yes, sir,” Tatum says in mock approval, fanning herself as Grant squeezes my hand before heading back toward his friends.
I step away from the crowd, letting the music and laughter fade into a low hum. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement—Coach Jones, headed straight for me with that determined stride.
Tatum clears her throat at my side. “Heads up. Jones incoming.”
I groan under my breath. Thanksgiving flashes through my mind, the mess I left behind. Since then, I’ve done everything possible to avoid him—took vacation days, worked from home, even camped out in Marlow’s office when she wasn’t around. Anything to keep distance.
And maybe he knows, because he brings the one thing I can’t resist.
“Hey, Coach Rocky!” I yell, dropping down in my burgundy gown to greet our furry menace, grateful he’s actually behaved today.
“Coach Saunders,” Darren says, voice even.
I rise from petting Rocky to meet his gaze. “Darren,” I reply, forcing myself to give him the name he’s always begged me to. “How are you?”
“I’m well. You?”
I sigh, refusing to pretend. “Darren, you don’t have to do this.”
He tilts his head. “Do what?”
“Pretend like I don’t owe you an apology. Like I didn’t act like the biggest ass alive, leading you on like I did.”
He grins, but it’s softer than I expect. Gracious, even. “If we’re honest,” he says, that South African lilt giving the words more weight, “I played myself. Led myself on.”
My brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
His eyes flick briefly across the room. Toward Grant.
“I knew—”
“You knew it was him?” I whisper, finishing for him.
“I knew it wasn’t me,” Darren says simply.
“Wow.” My voice comes out low, heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry, Darren. I really—”
He lifts a hand, cutting me off before I can finish. “No hard feelings, Coach Saunders. Happiness looks good on you.”
I smile, but both of us glance back toward the tent where the other players are gathered and tension is obviously building.
Coach exhales a long, weary sigh. “I need to go separate Luca and Croix again before they end up killing each other.”
I shake my head. “I’ve got a joint session scheduled with them after the new year. Hopefully they can survive that long without drawing blood.”
Coach groans as he and Rocky start heading toward the commotion. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
Grant walks over after he notices Coach Jones and I’m already shaking my head at his jealousy.
“Your spidey senses telling you someone was trying to push up on your girl?”
“My spidey senses told me I was about to have to come over here and kick someone’s ass.”
I laugh, loud. We both do. He’s become one of my favorite pastimes, too.
“You ready to get out of here, Eslin Saunders? I hear the bride and groom are headed to Italy in the morning.”
I frown. “In the morning? Won’t he miss matches if he’s gone?”
He grins. “Their last official match was earlier this month so he won’t be missing anything.”
“He’s got some good bosses, I tell ya.”
He kisses me and I melt into this man.
“Come on, Sunshine. I’ve got something special for you.”