A Brit Player

by Brenda St John Brown

  I leave out the fact that we slept together and, truthfully, most of the important bits, but it doesn’t matter because the first thing Rina says is, “Bloody hell, you’re in love with him again.”

  “Oh God. Stop.” I don’t deny it, but I can’t bring myself to agree either.

  “We’ll come back to that. You haven’t told him about what happened back then, apparently.”

  “Obviously.” If there’s anyone it would be obvious to, it’s Rina.

  “Well, teenage me was a lot nicer than I am now. Having two kids under the age of four makes you way more direct.” Rina laughs. “The way I see it, you can either tell him or you can pine for him. I don’t think there are any other options.”

  Truthfully, I don’t either. But I also know it’s not fair to call Rina after twelve years and ask her to solve this for me.

  “That’s about right,” I say. “But I didn’t call you to talk about Max. I called you to apologize. He’s just a catalyst.”

  “There’s no just when it comes to Max, Tara. There are only facts.” Rina takes a breath but continues before I can speak. “That said, thank you for calling me. I don’t know if you called for absolution, but if so, it’s yours. It took me a while to get to that point, I’ll admit. But I never thought it had to do with me, as much as it had to do with everything I reminded you of.”

  “Thank you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, though.”

  “Oh God. I forgave you years ago. You need to focus on forgiving yourself.” Rina cuts off as a child cries in the background. “Bloody hell. My son hates sleep. I don’t understand him at all because I would kill to go to bed at eight o’clock. I need to go, but if you’re ever up this way, let’s have coffee. Or maybe wine?”

  “I’d love to,” I call into the phone, but Rina’s already hung up.

  I stay in the kitchen, flicking through Rina’s Facebook feed. I find myself smiling at a photo of her with her son taken earlier today. They’re both smiling and he has an adorable floppy fringe peeking out from underneath a hat. I hit like on the post and then comment: He’s your mini-me! Hope he lets you get some sleep. Xx

  I see that seconds later Rina has liked my comment and I hold my phone against my chest. I know our conversation hasn’t “fixed” everything. It’s possible it didn’t really fix anything, but it feels good to reconnect. I can’t deny that Rina’s words are going to echo in my head for a long time. She didn’t say anything Allison or Scarlett hasn’t said already. But the way she said it – as if it’s something I should already know – is what I keep hearing.

  You need to forgive yourself.

  She’s right. I know she’s right.

  By the time I’m crawling into bed, I’ve circled around the same thought so many times I’m dizzy. But when I’m lying in the dark, the thought prints itself on the back of my eyelids like a cinema marquee. Part of forgiving myself is telling Max the secret I’ve kept from him all these years.

  Once and for all.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Texting Max for the hundredth time feels like a bad idea but showing up at Norcastle’s game at Chelsea feels like a much worse one. Yet here I am, rocking a strong sense of déjà vu as Scarlett and I freeze our asses off in the stands amongst the Chelsea fans. The tickets are courtesy of Bradley, thanks to a last minute business trip and, although I appreciate being here, I can’t help wishing I were somewhere else. Somewhere warmer would be a good start. I’m not sure I can move my toes anymore, my feet are so cold.

  “Max looks like he’s in good form,” says Scarlett.

  To me, Max looks like he’s sitting on the bench huddled in a warm Norcastle coat, but he does look good doing it. According to BBC Sports, he’s been doing some light training recently, but he’ll be on the injured list for a few more weeks at least. He’s moving around well though, jumping up from the bench when the team comes in, jogging to deliver a water to a teammate down the field. He’s probably a bit worse for wear due to his injury, but it’s pretty hard to tell from where I’m sitting.

  The team, however, is a different matter. They look like they’re floundering without Max on the field, and the guy who’s replaced him has half the speed Max does. Even the Chelsea fans seem to recognize that it’s a different match without Max in it and, although they’re thrilled with what looks like an easy win, they don’t seem that into the game.

  I’m not either, truth be told. If I’m not staring at Max, I’m picking the jagged nail on my thumb while I mentally rehearse what to say if I have a chance to speak to him. I’ve had days to think about it and I’m still no closer to knowing what exactly will come out of my mouth when we talk.

  “Stop it. You’re jiggling the whole row.” Scarlett puts a hand on my knee to stop my leg from bouncing up and down. “There’s only three more minutes.”

  “That’s it?” My stomach flip flops.

  “It will be fine. You want him to agree to speak to you. It’s not like you’re going to have the conversation here.” Scarlett puts a bit more pressure on my knee. I think it’s meant to be reassuring and it helps a little.

  “Have I thanked you for coming with me tonight?” I ask. “I owe you.”

  “You have, but I’m fine with you owing me.” Scarlett flashes a grin. “My mum’s coordinating a Santa Dash thing to benefit a breast cancer charity and I’m supposed to get a team together. You would look great in a Santa suit, just saying.”

  “I am not Santa Dashing. I’m sorry.” I shake my head and try to look stern. These short legs do not run.

  “Well, that’s the thing about you owing me. I get to pick.” She laughs. “I need to get a whole team together. Do you think Gemma will do it? My mum already said we can all stay there.”

  I’m not sure Gemma’s any more athletic than I am, but she is taller. “Maybe? I’m sure she’d love Castle Calder.”

  “Start working on her now.” Scarlett grins. “Speaking of work, the game’s almost over. Shall we head to the gate?”

  “Um, sure.” I swallow down the no that’s clawing its way up my throat. This was my idea. I was the one who wanted to come here and I was the one who decided to talk to Max. No one is forcing me to do this.

  So the fact that I feel like a knife is being pressed against my side when Scarlett and I are at the gate waiting for the team to emerge is all me. I want to leave and never look back, but I also want to get this over with so I can stop obsessing about telling him. I know better than to think it will mean I’ll stop obsessing about Max, but that seems to be the price of knowing him for me.

  It feels like we’re waiting a long time for the team to come out. The other fans around us start to grumble and a few leave.

  “Do you think they’re getting a bollocking?” Scarlett asks. “It was a pretty shit game.”

  “Ssshhh.” I glance around, but no one’s paying attention to us. They probably wouldn’t disagree with us if they were. “I don’t know, but if you want to go, I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you kidding? And let you sneak out right behind me? No chance.” Scarlett lowers her voice. “You need to do this, Tara. For closure, if nothing else.”

  It’s true. I know it is. Every day since I spoke to Rina, I feel more convinced. I even talked to Allison about it and, although she was surprised, she agreed it would be good for me to talk to Max. She did caution me not to think telling Max would miraculously make everything okay. Nor was it fair to shift the burden of knowing from me to him. But yes, a conversation could be helpful.

  Still, when I see Max come out of the door, I freeze. Every coherent thought goes out of my head, along with the desire to tell him the truth. I start to turn away before he sees me, but Scarlett grips my elbow, holding me in place, whispering, “You didn’t come this far to only come this far.”

  “I might have.” My voice is weak, but I don’t pull away.

  I make myself look up and immediately home in on Max in the sea of black tracksuits walking towards the waiting bus. He looks res
ted and healthy, although his smile is slightly strained around the edges. Then he meets my gaze and his smile drops completely.

  Bloody hell.

  It feels like he’s cast a spell on me, cementing me to the spot. A half-formed Merlin joke flickers through my head, but nothing about this is funny. His gaze travels over my face, flickering to my black bobble hat and my white jacket. He lifts his chin and I think for a second that he’s going to give me a smile, but instead he turns away. Completely.

  I stay frozen until Max gets on the team, bus then I slowly turn to Scarlett. “I didn’t imagine that, right?”

  Her eyes are sad and that’s all the answer I need, but she shakes her head, too, and says, “I’m sorry. Maybe he needs more time?”

  I swallow down the growing lump in my throat and nod. “Maybe.”

  We start making our way out of the crowd while the team bus pulls away behind us. I’m too cold to feel much of anything, but that doesn’t stop the hot sting of tears threatening behind my eyes. I can’t cry here. Not in this crowd. And even though she’s my best friend, not in front of Scarlett. She’ll see it as me giving up and I’m not sure I’m there yet. Although I’m not sure I’m not there either.

  Scarlett and I don’t speak until we’ve separated from the crowd. She turns to me, her voice purposely cheery and says, “You want to come over for Chardonnay therapy? Or we can get a pizza on the way to yours? I’m starving.”

  “I’m starving, too. Why don’t we go to Bhajatt since we’re over here? My treat.” It’s the least I can do.

  “Oh, I love that idea!” Scarlett links her arm through mine. “Can we order a pitcher of chili mango margaritas?”

  “Absolutely.” I laugh and squeeze Scarlett’s arm. God, she’s a good friend. I open my mouth to tell her that when my phone buzzes from my back pocket.

  I fumble the phone from my pocket and nearly drop it when I see the text on the screen. I hold it out for Scarlett so she can see and she lets out a low whistle. “Well, that’s unexpected.”

  I’ll say.

  I read the words on the screen from Max: We’re staying at the Sloane Place hotel. Will you meet me? We need to talk.

  “I need to go, right?” I ask. Even though I want to talk to Max, faced with the prospect of it now, my heart is in my throat.

  “You do. I’m getting you an Uber.” Scarlett pulls her phone out of her bag. “You can owe me Bhajatt another time. Don’t think I’ll forget.”

  I laugh, but she doesn’t need to worry. Something tells me I won’t forget this night for a long, long time.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I wish I was wearing something sexier than my chunky wool sweater and bobble hat. But short of going home to change – which will take too long and is too far – I’m stuck with what I’m wearing. That doesn’t stop me from borrowing Scarlett’s dark red lipstick and brushing some powder over my face to tame the redness from the cold. The truth is, the only armor I have tonight is make-up, and I can’t help thinking I’d be better off with a sword.

  I get in the Uber Scarlett booked for me and the driver’s got the radio on. It’s a blessing that he doesn’t want to chat, but it doesn’t help my anxiety about seeing Max.

  We need to talk.

  That could mean a million things, but the implications aren’t usually good. I know I need to talk to him, but what does he need to say to me?

  When the Uber driver drops me off, I stay in the lobby for five minutes doing deep breathing exercises before I make myself text Max. It’s another five minutes before he emerges from the lift and I see him walking towards me. He’s changed out of his team tracksuit and is wearing dark denim jeans and a chocolate brown sweater under a black Barbour coat. His hair is tousled and his hands are shoved in the pockets of his jeans. But it’s his eyes I focus on. His expression is blank, but at least he’s looking at me, and that’s a start.

  I wonder where we’re going to talk. I can’t imagine having the conversation we need to have here, even in a quiet corner. But the prospect of going to Max’s room feels too intimate. He solves the quandary by the first words he says as he approaches. “Hey. Thanks for coming. Do you fancy a wander?”

  “Sure. That sounds great.” I gesture for Max to go first and follow him out the door back onto the street.

  We walk in silence for a few minutes and I have to cross my arms over my chest so I don’t reach for him. It doesn’t stop me from stealing glances at him out of the corner of my eye, though. He looks great. Better than great. I crave the feel of his arm draped over my shoulders, although I know I’d probably fall apart from the sheer relief of it. My hopes soar when Max pops into an off license, stopping in front of the soda case. But they deflate when he picks up not one, but two cans of Pepsi.

  “How I know you’re mad at me.” I point to the cans on the counter as he pays. “Exhibit one.”

  Max shrugs but he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t hand me the can, waiting instead for me to pick it up off the counter. I shove it in the pocket of my coat. The last thing I need is a fizzy drink swirling around in my stomach right now.

  We head back out into the cold and turn left. Max pops open his soda but keeps his gaze firmly ahead.

  “I was surprised to see you tonight,” he says finally. His tone is careful and I can’t help wishing he’d look at me so I can see his eyes.

  “Well, I tried to text first.” I try to laugh but it comes out sounding like a strangled cat instead.

  “Yeah.” Max’s tone is dismissive and curt.

  “I know.” I sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  “You disappeared, T. You could have told me anytime that weekend that you weren’t feeling it, but you ghosted me. Again.” Max’s voice rises. “Then you hear about my injury and you’re texting me like you care?”

  “I do care.” My voice still sounds like a strangled cat and it’s smaller now.

  Max continues like he hasn’t heard me. “Then tonight, you show up waiting outside the gate? For what? What are you playing at?”

  “I’m not playing at anything.” I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, but Max doesn’t so I run to catch up with him. “You’re not a game to me, Max. You never have been.”

  “So this is just a thing you do? Disappear when it suits you? Although, wait…” Max pauses and his lip curls in a way that makes me feel like I need to brace myself. “You haven’t left town yet. Don’t tell me. You’re moving to Plymouth this time? Or are you going for somewhere more exotic and heading to Paris?”

  “I’m not moving anywhere.” I dig my fingernails into my palms so I don’t snap back. Max has every right to be mad at me and snapping won’t get him any closer to being inclined to talk to me about what counts.

  “What is it then? What do you want?” Max turns and looks at me, and even in the shadows the force of his gaze takes my breath away.

  “First, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have disappeared like that.” I take a deep breath. “But it wasn’t because I don’t care about you. If anything, I care too much.”

  “Yeah. Same.” Max lets out a long breath, then shakes his head and starts walking again. “But fine. Apology accepted or whatever.”

  “I never meant to hurt you,” I say when I catch up with him.

  “Yep. Okay.” Max’s jaw is tight. I’ve seen Max mad before, but in all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him mad at me. I hate it more than Brussels sprouts and oysters combined.

  “Please. Will you listen to me?” I grab his wrist and we both freeze.

  My hand is cold and his skin is so warm. I’m pretty sure I could melt on the spot.

  “You’re freezing, T.” Max’s tone is warmer than it’s been all night. “Let’s find somewhere to go sit down. There’s a pub up the road.”

  I shake my head and shove my hand in my pocket. I can’t imagine sitting across a table from him and having the conversation we need to have. “Can we walk a bit more? I’m fine.”

  “Sure. Suit yourself.”
Max buries his hands back in his pockets and we walk the next block in silence.

  The air between us is still heavy but it feels less fraught. That should make me feel more brave instead of less, but my stomach is still knotted tighter than Max’s football boots in the World Cup.

  I need to tell him so I can finally let it go. And so we can have the possibility of a real chance.

  Seeing him has only reinforced how much I’ve missed him.

  How much I love him.

  My heart acknowledges the word before my mind catches up and, even though part of me doesn’t feel ready for that word to live in my brain, the other part of me knows that I’ve been paying rent on that emotion for the past twelve years.

  It’s time to own it.

  I open my mouth and close it twice before I manage to speak. But when I do, my voice is clear and steady. “There’s something I need to tell you. That’s why I came to see you tonight.”

  “Okay?” Max shrugs. “What is it?”

  I take a deep breath in and cross my fingers inside the pockets of my coat. Then I start talking.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Why? Why did you keep this from me?” Max has tears brimming in his eyes. “Jesus Christ. All the times you could have told me...”

  “I know you think that. But I couldn’t put that on you when you were so close to having everything you’d ever wanted.” I have tears in my eyes too, but maybe it’s a sign that I’ve cried enough about this already because I’m not hysterical. I’m not even close.

  “But if I had known that you were pregnant in the first place…” Max starts.

  “You would have come home. I know.”

  “What were you going to do? If you didn’t lose the baby, would you have told me? Or would you have made that decision on your own, too?”

  “I…” I shake my head. I swore I’d tell the truth. I’m not going to let myself down now. “I don’t know. But it didn’t come to that, so I don’t have to know.”