by Amy Daws
My face contorts in a confused laugh. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t be sorry.” She sniffs and shakes her head, her eyes blazing into mine. “I’m besotted with you. Your playfulness and surprising tenderness have been the best surprise of my life. I pushed you away because I was terrified that I could be hurt again like before, but I’ve only now realized that before doesn’t matter. No man has ever made me feel the way you make me feel. Orgasms included.” She expels a garbled laugh and adds, “And I’d rather live in fear loving you than live safely not loving you.”
It’s as if she’s taking the words right out of my mouth. And hearing her say all the things she sang before means so much to me. But she’s still not all the way there yet.
“I don’t want you to be afraid, Daphney,” I state, reaching out to grab her chin so she’s forced to look at me. I need to see her face when she answers this question. “What scares you so much about me?”
“That you don’t love me back.” She shrugs helplessly. “I guess I just can’t imagine you care that much when you hid such a huge part of your life from me.”
My brows furrow at the evident pain on her face. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get that it was because I love her that I hid this from her. I inhale a deep breath and move closer to her, my body hovering over hers, aching to wrap itself around her but knowing she needs to hear these words first.
“Daphney, the reason I didn’t tell you was because since the day you and I started, you have been my safe place. My ally.” My voice cracks at the end because the truth of those words is heavy and real. “At a time I didn’t know where I belonged in this world, you made me feel at home. Your place, my place, the damn hallway with the mouse house. If you were there, I was home. And I didn’t want to taint the one good thing in my life that I could depend on. That was you, Ducky. You and your music and your horrible fucking cookies.”
“What?” Her face shifts from emotional processing to confused annoyance in the blink of an eye. “My cookies?”
“They were awful. They tasted like playdough and bad feelings,” I reply softly, my nose wrinkling with disgust.
“Do you honestly think this is the time for jokes?” Her tone is scolding as she drops the guitar to her side. “I just sang a song begging you to forgive me, and you’re making jokes.”
“I’m not joking,” I state seriously, feeling my stomach roil just from talking about them. “I mean it, Ducky. You can never make those cookies again. I love you, but those cookies taste like prison food and regret.”
She huffs out a noise of indignation, and then her dazzling blue eyes snap to me. “Wait…did you just say you love me?”
“Hell yes, I did,” I reply, taking a step closer to devour the sweet, shocking innocence stricken all over her face. She’s so blind, but I will make it my life’s mission to make her see this.
“Surely you’re just having a laugh?” she rasps, her breath quickening as she props her guitar on the wall with shaky hands. She turns to gaze back up at me with nearly manic eyes.
“Does it look like I’m laughing?” I stare unblinking at her because I need her to see this, to accept it, and to let it wash over both of us so we’re clean and new again. “I love you, Ducky.”
Her chin trembles as she sputters, “Why the bloody hell didn’t you say this to me before?” The hollows of her cheeks suck in as her brows pinch together in her classic punishing glower. She goes from sad to emotional to angry in like three seconds. It’s an impressive emotional range. Right now, she’s giving me warring neighbor vibes like when we first butted heads, and I’m here for all of it.
“Sweetheart,” my voice is a plea as I cradle her face in my hands so she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I knew I loved you the moment I looked up into the stands at Emirates Stadium and saw you standing there in my team colors. I’ve never wanted someone wearing my jersey more in my fucking life. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I guess I was scared too, but after hearing your song, I know for certain that I love you. I’m not in love with you because that indicates I could fall out of love with you. And this love I have for you feels like a forever kind of love. Like the kind of love my dad had for my mom. The kind of love he must have had to raise me and claim me as his own his whole life without hesitation. I love you, Daphney. I love you.”
My voice breaks on the end, and I gasp for breath, realizing I forgot to breathe during all of that. But it’s stuff that’s been circulating in my head for the past two weeks, and it feels so damn good to get it out.
Daphney inhales a shaky breath as her eyes well with tears. She reaches up and cups my hands over her cheeks. Her smile and tears are infectious, and I can’t help but mirror them as she says three little words to me. “Please don’t move.”
I laugh and press my forehead to hers to inhale the sweet scent of her that I’ve missed more than I ever thought possible. “Those weren’t the three words I was expecting.”
“No?” she croaks, biting her lip nervously. “Then don’t move and maybe I’ll get to them.”
I pull back and shake my head at her. “You’re very bossy when you’re groveling, you know.”
“I’m a girl who knows what I want.” She shrugs cutely, and then her face grows serious as her eyes lock with mine. “I love you, Zander.”
Hearing the words spoken out loud sends a rush of adrenaline through my body stronger than anything I’ve ever felt in soccer as I crush my lips to hers. I don’t bother asking for consent with this kiss. The second she gave me her love, her lips became mine. She is mine.
My hands map her neck, back, and hips, pulling her close and committing all the curves of her body to memory. She tastes soft and sweet, and I can’t help but marvel at the fact that I barely made it two weeks without her. Deep in my gut, I know there will never be another girl I want to kiss as much as this one in my arms. That thought would have scared me a year ago. Now, I welcome it. I welcome someone permanent in my life. Someone I want to fight for and who is willing to fight for me. That song, her voice. Those are some of the best fighting words I could ever imagine coming from her lips, and it fills my heart with relief to have this feeling in my heart reciprocated at last.
Daphney skates her fingers into my hair and gives my strands a light tug. God, I missed her hands in my hair. Her tongue teases my bottom lip as I bite down on hers. I want to consume this woman. I want to take her to bed and never leave it. I want to whisper that I love her over every inch of her flesh until she’s so fucking spent, she can’t find the words to tell me to stop.
“Wait, I have one question,” she gasps, using my hair to pull my lips off her neck. “Are my cookies really that bad?”
“God, yes.” I sigh, and my lips are back to feasting on her flesh. “Did you seriously never try them?”
“No, they smelled awful.”
My body shakes with silent laughter as I pick her up and carry her to bed, feeling better than I have in a very long time.
Daphney
The twinkle lights cast a golden hue on our bodies as we lay on my bed, facing each other in a mess of rumpled sheets and naked limbs. Zander’s lips are still caressing my neck and shoulders, his hands sculpting over my bottom in a way that makes it obvious he is in no way ready for bed. How does he have the stamina for this? He played a Premier League football game today. Honestly, the man is superhuman.
“So, how are you feeling about everything?” I ask, forcing his lips away from my breasts so I can look into his beautiful hazel eyes.
He blinks sleepily. “Big fan of makeup sex.”
I smirk and narrow my eyes. “I mean about the Harrises. Hayden came by earlier today and told me a little bit about last Sunday.”
Zander’s brow quirks. “Is Hayden who I have to thank for this epic makeup sex? That’s going to be an awkward thank-you card.”
I roll my eyes and pinch Zander’s side. He tenses, and his muscles bunch in a really delicious way that makes me not at all ready for bed
either. “Come on, I want to know. You’ve been dodging my texts all week.”
“I was giving you a taste of your own ghosting medicine,” Zander says, and a look of sadness flits across his eyes.
I stroke his cheek and try to soothe that pain on his face. “I promise no more ghosting ever. No matter how bad we fight, neither of us ghost each other.”
“Deal.” Zander presses his forehead to mine. “I missed the shit out of you, Ducky.”
I inhale his manly scent. “I missed you more.”
“Impossible.” His eyes look vulnerable in the darkness as he adds, “You know I’m going to screw up again, though, right? I’m no relationship expert, but no one is perfect.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I guess I need to know that I can screw up once in a while and not have you doubt me again.”
“I won’t doubt you,” I say, stilling my hand in his hair, and hating the insecure look on his face. “I doubted me. I doubted that I was strong enough to survive this if we don’t work out.”
“Well, that’s an easy problem to fix. We just won’t break up.” He gives my side a cheeky squeeze and bites his lip teasingly.
“That would be helpful,” I reply coyly, my body arching into his. “But mostly, Hayden made me realize that love is worth the risk. And I feel even safer knowing you love me too.”
“I do love you,” Zander says, pressing his lips to mine. “I’m sorry you couldn’t see that more clearly.” He goes silent for a moment as my fingers play with his hair. “I think I struggled to open up to you about everything because I wasn’t certain I even wanted to know the truth. And since you were already so connected to the Harris family, if I told you…there was no way to take it back.”
I nod thoughtfully because it’s an answer I can completely empathize with. “Are you glad it’s all out in the open now? No regrets?”
“No regrets.” Zander exhales heavily. “If I didn’t at least try to have a relationship with them, I would always wonder. And everyone has taken the news surprisingly well. Even the grandkids know, and they’re sort of like…who cares, let’s play soccer. It’s funny.”
“That’s incredible.” I smile back at Zander. “I would have loved to have been there to watch it all unfold.”
“I think it was good I did it on my own.” Zander’s eyes look hopeful in the darkness as he gazes back at me. “But I’d love if you came with me tomorrow to Sunday dinner.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” I lean in and kiss him again because it’s impossible not to. “I think you’re very brave.”
“I think you’re very brave,” Zander murmurs, nuzzling my neck. “Going to a soccer match with my mom last week without telling me. I’d swear you have balls of steel if I hadn’t just been down there a few minutes ago and gave it a full inspection.”
“Don’t be vile,” I say, laughing and shoving him away. He pulls me in closer, and it feels so delicious, it’s hard to stay focused. “Your mum was nice. I liked meeting her, even under less than stellar circumstances.”
“Well, you certainly made a good impression,” Zander remarks, tucking his face into my neck and inhaling deeply. “Now I’ll have to do the same with your parents.”
“Oh?” I ask, my brows furrowed as I stare down at Zander, who’s burrowing into my neck too much to see if he’s having me on. “You want to meet my parents?”
“Well yeah.” He peppers kisses along my shoulder like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing in the world. “I mean, I clearly already won over your brother. Now I just better hit the rest of the Clarke family with my dazzling charm so you can never get rid of me.”
My heart positively sings with all this future talk. I know Zander said he loved me but asking to meet my parents is another matter altogether.
“I could probably arrange something,” I squeak out, trying to sound aloof.
“Maybe you can bring them to one of my games,” he says, rubbing small circles on my hips. “I want you at more of my games. And if that means I must attend your music gigs, that’s a price I’m very happy to pay.”
“What music gigs?” I bark, gripping his hair to force him to look at me.
He winces at the tight tug on his strands, but the smile on his face is undeniable. “Well, you’re not going to be able to sell your music to a record company if you don’t start playing it again.”
“And what makes you think I even want to sell my music anymore?” I narrow my eyes on him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he pulls me in close for a soft, sultry kiss. “You’ve got a hit song about me just waiting to be discovered. Plus, after all you did to help me with my mom, it’s my turn to help your dreams come true.”
Zander
A Few Months Later
Roan boots a goal into the net just as the referee was about to blow his whistle to send the game into extra time. I drop to my knees in awe, looking up at the scoreboard in disbelief. Bethnal Green one, Chelsea zero. I can’t believe we just fucking won.
My eyes swerve to the stands for Daphney, but I’m immediately distracted when something pummels me in the back.
“We fucking did it!” Booker cries as he crushes me into a tackle hug on the ground. “We just won the fucking Cup!” Booker laughs at me from his position on the ground as he grabs my face in his gloved hands and pulls my head close to plant a sloppy kiss on my forehead. “We did it, bruv!”
The nickname of bruv is British slang for brother, and it’s what all four of the Harris Brothers have taken to calling me the past couple of months. I hear it at every Sunday dinner, on the pitch, on the various double dates Daphney and I have gone on with the siblings and their spouses. It’s even been picked up by the media now that the truth of my connection to the family has been released to the public.
It feels good.
Vaughn let me decide if we were going to tell the press about my relation to him. He said if I never wanted anyone to know, he would understand. But I knew hiding it put us at risk of them finding out anyways. Then it would look as though I was a dirty little secret and the headlines would be ugly.
And really, why did I care if the press knew or not? Just because I share DNA with Vaughn Harris doesn’t make my dad less of my dad. The fact that I’m related to the Harris family just means my inner circle has grown. And after a couple of months, I realized that the Harrises have this uncanny way of bringing people into their world with very little effort. They feel like that old friend from childhood that you never talk to but when you run into each other, it’s like no time has passed. It’s weird, but comforting. It was that comfort that gave me the courage to release a statement.
The media accepted the news far more positively than I ever expected. Jude had given me horror stories of the British newspapers but it seems like since the Harris Brothers have all settled down and started families, the press is much kinder to them. I guess I was gifted that kindness by default and I will do my best to not take it for granted.
Booker takes off down the field to celebrate with the rest of the team as I stand back up and jog over to the sidelines. My eyes find Daphney’s. She’s sitting next to my mother who flew out yesterday to catch the final. Both of their arms are raised as they cheer me on and as I make a beeline toward them, I’m shoved off to the side by yet another brother.
“Fucking aces of a game, bruv!” Tanner yells, following his shove up with an aggressive hug. “Jesus Christ, I have a stiffy that could cut glass!”
He gestures lewdly to his groin as I laugh and shake my head. “Good luck with that.”
He waggles his eyebrows playfully and jogs onto the field, allowing me to continue my pursuit of the woman in the front row. My eyeline is impeded by Vaughn Harris next. He has tears in his eyes as he holds his arms out wide to me.
I embrace him happily, knowing this is a big day for him. He’s been saying at nearly every Sunday dinner that if we win the FA Cup, he’s finally going to retire, and he means it this time. I’m sure this is an emot
ional moment for him, knowing that his life is about to change.
“Your dad would have been so proud,” Vaughn says, cupping the back of my head.
A knot lodges in my throat as I point up to the sky. “He’s watching.”
Vaughn releases me, giving me one more proud, fatherly look before I move through the back bench with my mind on a very different goal.
I jump over the barriers blocking off the stands and pull myself up over the gate in front of the front row. When my eyes lift, I see Daphney situated in the middle of the entire Harris horde and my mom sitting right beside her. They both have tears in their eyes as I push through the people all pressing in close for the spectacle.
I make it to Daphney and she’s staring at me in complete confusion as I reach behind my head and pull my jersey off. The crowd around us cheers loudly as I stand there shirtless, sweating, and breathless, but I block out all the noise as I move past Daphney.
“For Dad,” I say, handing my jersey to Mom, whose face crumples with emotion.
She nods as she reaches out to yank me into her sobbing body. We hold each other for a long time, both of us imagining Dad here in the stands cheering louder than even Vi Harris, who has serious pipes on her. Dad’s spirit is here, though. I’m certain of it.
Mom pulls back to wipe the tears off her face and releases me. She pulls my jersey up to her cheek and closes her eyes.
Without pause, I turn on my heel next and grab a surprised Daphney. I plant my lips so firmly that her squeal of surprise gives me a little stiffy too. The crowd loses their mind around us as I dip her in dramatic fashion. Her joyous laughter against my lips is the thing that dreams are made of.
I whip her back onto her feet, cupping her face in my hands as I say the three words I could say to her forever. “I love you.”
She smiles and presses her forehead to mine. “I love you.”
I struggle to let her go and head back down onto the field. I should be out there with my team. I should be celebrating this win with my brothers and my coach. But honestly, I don’t think I would have been here without Daphney. She opened my heart up after I spent over a year with it closed off. She taught me to be vulnerable and honest. She challenged me in ways no woman has ever challenged me, and she pushed me to be a better man. I want to be the best man I can be for her. I found the one whom my soul loves, and I want to marry this girl. She is my family.