Chapter fifty-six
Rory
I hate suits. Not because they don’t look good, I know they do.
I’ve been told enough times over the years.
But because of everything that comes with them.
The version of me that wears a suit is not the version of me I actually like.
That version smiles for cameras. Shakes hands with people he doesn’t care about.
Stands in rooms that feel too polished, too loud, too fake.
That version of me isn’t real. And yet… here I am.
I stand at the bottom of the stairs in my parents’ house, adjusting the cuff of my shirt for what feels like the tenth time, trying to ignore the way my shoulders feel tight under the jacket.
“Daddy?”
I glance up. Isla is standing halfway down the stairs, gripping the bannister, staring at me like I’ve just walked in wearing a crown. Her face lights up.
“Daddy… you look so handsome.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Do I?”
“Yes,” she nods seriously, stepping down the rest of the stairs. “Like… like a prince.”
“A prince?”
“Yeah. But a rugby prince.”
“Ah,” I nod. “Very important distinction.”
She reaches me and immediately wraps her arms around my waist. I pull her up into a tight hug, pressing a kiss into her hair.
“I’m gonna miss you, bug,” I murmur.
She squeezes me tighter. “I’ll miss you too.”
“You be good for Nanna and Pops, yeah?”
“I always am,” she lies.
I pull back, raising an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
She grins. “Mostly.”
“Mostly is acceptable.”
My mum appears in the doorway, watching us with a soft smile. “You look lovely,” she says.
“Thanks.”
My dad nods from his chair. “Try not to punch anyone.”
“No promises.”
Isla giggles. I set her down and crouch in front of her. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And we’ll get pancakes.”
Her eyes light up. “Chocolate chip?”
“Obviously.”
“Deal.”
She leans forward and kisses my cheek. And just like that, I don’t want to go.
The drive into the city feels longer than usual.
The roads get busier, the buildings taller, the air somehow heavier the closer I get.
I rest one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against it as my thoughts drift.
I really don’t want to be doing this. Rugby?
I love it. The training, the matches, the lads.
That’s real. But this part? The suits. The events.
The forced smiles and endless small talk.
I hate it. And tonight is going to be worse.
Because I know who’s going to be there. Sienna.
I exhale slowly, tightening my grip on the wheel.
I don’t see her often. She made that choice herself.
She stepped away from Isla, from everything, a long time ago.
But tonight? I won’t be able to avoid her.
And I already know how it’ll go. Polite smiles.
Awkward small talk. Pretending like we weren’t once plastered all over magazines as some perfect couple.
That life feels like it belonged to someone else.
The apartment in the city. All glass and marble and no actual warmth.
The parties. The constant cameras. Holding her hand like it meant something when half the time it didn’t.
I shake my head slightly. I don’t even recognise that version of me anymore.
Not now. Not when I know what real feels like.
Not when I know what it feels like to sit on a sofa in Oakwood with Freya, eating takeaway and laughing about nothing. That’s real. That’s what I want.
I pull up outside the hotel just as the sky starts to darken.
It’s small. Tucked between two taller buildings like it doesn’t quite belong there.
A little boutique bed and breakfast with maybe ten rooms at most. It is made of old brick with wooden window frames.
It looks completely out of place in the middle of the city.
And I love it immediately. It reminds me of Oakwood. Quiet, unassuming. Real.
I grab my bag and head inside, checking in quickly before heading up to my room.
It’s just as I expected. Simple yet rustic.
Soft blankets, wooden furniture, a slightly creaky floorboard near the door.
I toss my bag down and fall back onto the bed for a second, staring up at the ceiling.
And immediately… I miss her. Freya would love this place.
I pull my phone out, considering texting her, but I know I’ll see her properly tomorrow. So instead I push myself up and give myself a pop talk.
“Come on Bennett, let’s get this over with.”
The venue is… ridiculous. Massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, dripping light over the room.
Ice sculptures line the entrance. Everything gleams. Too much.
Way too much. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
If they spent half as much on the actual charity as they did on this décor, they’d probably double the donations.
But what do I know. I’m just a dumb rugby player.
I grab a drink and head toward the auction table, scanning the items laid out.
A yacht. Of course. Luxury holidays to the Caribbean and the Maldives.
Celebrity meet and greets. Even a car. Then something catches my eye.
A bracelet. Simple, but expensive in that understated way.
There’s a small key intertwined with one of the gold links, a single diamond set into the head. I glance at the card beside it.
One of a kind Cartier bracelet created for the foundation’s charity ball.
I can already picture it on Freya’s wrist. The way it would catch the light when she laughs. The way she’d look at me when I gave it to her.
“Oi.”
I turn. Relief hits me instantly as The Ravens lads bundle around me.
“About time,” Noah says, pulling me into a quick hug with a back pat.
“Where’ve you been?” Scott adds. “You missed training.”
“Had a lot on,” I shrug. “House stuff.”
Noah gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me for a second.
But before he can call me out, we’re ushered toward our seats.
We take our seats and the auction promptly starts.
The yacht goes for ninety grand to some bloke who looks like he owns at least three already.
Theo bags one of the holidays. Scott, predictably, wins a Rolex. Flashy bastard. Then…
“The Cartier bracelet.”
My attention snaps back. I raise my paddle and Theo gives me the side-eye. Another guy across the room raises his paddle. His wife is practically vibrating beside him, whispering in his ear. Doesn’t matter. I keep going. Ten thousand. Twelve. Fifteen.
“Sold.”
Mine. I barely react outwardly, but butterflies erupt in my stomach at the thought of giving this to her.
“Wanna tell me something?” Noah mutters beside me.
“Not here,” I say quietly. “I’ll tell you. Promise.”
Scott leans over. “Didn’t have you down as the romantic type, Bennett.”
“I’m not.”
Noah smirks. “Yeah. That’s what’s interesting.”
Once the gruelling two hour long auction is over, I head for the bar. As I approach, I see Sienna. She spots me at the same time. We both pause. I wonder if there’s time for me to turn around and head to the toilets instead but she’s already walking towards me. Fuck.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
Awkward.
“How’s Isla?” she asks.
“She’s good.”
“Good.”
I nod. “How are your parents?”
“Yeah, they’re fine.”
Silence stretches. Then her eyes drop to the bracelet in my hand.
“Of course, you got the Cartier, It’s beautiful,” she says.
“It is.”
“Can I see?”
I hesitate for half a second. Then pass it over. She slips it onto her wrist, admiring it.
“It’s stunning.”
“Who’s it for?” she asks.
I take the bracelet back gently. “My girlfriend, Freya.”
She looks up. “Freya?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
Something shifts in her expression. She’s heard me talk about Freya and visit her from the city many times. She even met her once at a barbecue at my parents’ house.
“Oh.”
“Yeah we er… ended up together.”
She nods slowly. “Well. That’s… nice.”
“It is.”
We stand there for another second. Then I step back. “I should…”
“Yeah.”
“Take care.”
“You too.”
And just like that, it’s over.
I don’t stay long after that, and if I’m being honest, I’m already halfway out the door the second that conversation with Sienna ends.
The room feels louder now, heavier somehow, like everything has been turned up a notch and I can’t quite settle back into it.
The laughter sounds forced, the conversations repetitive, the whole thing suddenly feeling exactly like what I always thought it was. A performance.
I do my best to make a swift exit, weaving through clusters of people who are all too polished and far too interested in being seen.
A couple of them try to catch my eye, probably gearing up for some kind of networking conversation I have absolutely no energy for, but I keep moving, offering polite nods and half smiles without actually stopping.
I find the lads near the bar and say a quick round of goodbyes, handshakes and back slaps, the usual.
“You disappearing already?” Noah asks, narrowing his eyes slightly like he knows there’s more to it.
“Early start,” I shrug, keeping it vague.
Scott huffs a laugh. “Since when do you care about early starts at these things?”
“Since tonight,” I reply, already stepping back.
They let me go, but not without a few looks that say they’ll be asking questions later.
I slip out before anyone else can pull me into another conversation, pushing through the doors and out into the cooler night air, the quiet outside hitting me instantly like a reset. I inhale deeply, feeling my shoulders drop for the first time since I arrived. God, I hate those things.
The walk back to the hotel is short, and by the time I reach it, the noise and lights of the event already feel like something distant and irrelevant. Like a version of my life that doesn’t quite fit anymore.
Inside, it’s warm and still, the soft lighting and creaky floorboards grounding in a way the venue never could be.
I head up to my room, shut the door behind me, and immediately start peeling off the night.
Shoes kicked off first, landing somewhere near the wall.
Jacket shrugged off and tossed over the back of a chair.
Tie loosened, then pulled free completely.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly as the tension leaves my body bit by bit.
I grab my phone from the bedside table, my thumb already hovering over Freya’s name before I’ve even properly thought it through. I should call her and tell her about the night. About the ridiculousness of it, about seeing Sienna, about the lads. I should tell her I miss her. Just hear her voice.
But the second I sit down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath me, the quiet wrapping around me properly for the first time all evening…
It hits me all at once. The long day. The drive.
The constant noise. The effort of being “on” for hours.
I lean back, just for a second. Just to rest my eyes.
And before I even have the chance to press call… I’m gone.