Undefeated

by Reardon, Stuart

  As she showered slowly—and alone—Anna’s thoughts turned to this time last year and how different her life had been. Her business was doing well and she was all but living with this amazing man who cared for her, who loved her, and told her so every day.

  She should be happy that the Phoenixes had kept her on a retainer because they were so pleased with the positive effect she’d had on the team. She should be, but part of her was saddened, because it meant that she and Nick were still a secret.

  Wild rumours flew around the locker room about where Nick spent most of his nights. Once or twice a week he’d put in an appearance to spend time with his flatmates, but the team was incredibly gossipy and had speculated that he was a secret tranny and lived as a woman, that he must be dating a married woman, that he was dating a guy. Since the team’s captain was gay and nobody gave a damn, that rumour died pretty quickly, but still, they were intrigued.

  Nick wanted to be able to tell them, but he couldn’t. On the nights when wives and girlfriends were invited to team events or evenings when the Press were there, he attended by himself, hanging with the other guys who weren’t currently dating. Several times he’d been asked to escort someone’s sister or wife’s best friend, and he felt a fraud doing it. He particularly hated it when Anna saw the pictures and read the speculation in the newspapers the next day. He hated the shadows in her eyes.

  The secrecy ate away at him, and although he wouldn’t have said he was famous, the newspapers were starting to take an interest. He and Anna had to be even more careful. He was frustrated that simply taking her out to a nice restaurant was a risk. On his birthday, they’d ordered pizza. They ate in every night because they had to, but he’d thought of a way to spoil her and show her how much he cared.

  He’d overheard Anna talking to her dad and realised that it was Thanksgiving and that she’d be missing it for a second year running. She’d played it down, but he knew that she must be feeling sad, homesick for her family.

  He couldn’t do anything about that. But if she couldn’t go to Thanksgiving, he could bring Thanksgiving to her.

  Anna came home after a long day spent with a young female soccer player who had a history of suffering from depression. She had the chance of a scholarship in the US, but the university had asked Anna to give her professional opinion on whether the young woman would be able to handle the stress.

  It had been a difficult decision, but Anna believed that the young woman was too vulnerable to be separated from her family right now. She suggested that the offer be held over for a year to give the player time to mature and prepare for a major upheaval in her life. Her recommendation hadn’t gone over well with the girl or her family.

  So when she opened the door of her apartment and caught the delicious aroma of roasting turkey, she thought she was hallucinating. But no, there was Nick in her kitchen, mashing potatoes with the ferocity of a man who hadn’t eaten for a month.

  He’d even decorated the table with two miniature pumpkin-shaped candles and tea lights on the window ledge.

  “If you have pumpkin pie with whipped cream as well, I might have to marry you.”

  Nick spun around, his eyes wide. With shock or surprise, Anna wasn’t sure, but she wished she could call back the words.

  Instead, she forced a smile.

  “It all looks wonderful! Thank you so much. This is amazing.”

  Nick relaxed but his eyes held a wariness that she hadn’t seen since they’d gotten back together again.

  He gathered her into a hug and kissed her hair.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, babe.”

  “Thank you so much,” she mumbled into his broad chest.

  He gave a quiet laugh, then unbuttoned her coat and slipped it from her shoulders.

  “Tea’s in five minutes,” he said.

  Anna still couldn’t get used to the way mealtimes seemed to be interchangeable. ‘Lunch’ could also be ‘dinner’ if it was served in the middle of the day, but ‘dinner’ was also an evening meal, which could also be ‘tea’. Or ‘tea’ could be a cup of tea, or an invitation to enjoy a pot of tea and a slice of cake at four o’clock. At least breakfast and brunch had the same meaning as in the US, although she did like elevenses which meant coffee and a biscuit mid-morning. On the other hand, one of her Australian clients said that the mid-morning break was smoke-oh, even though he didn’t smoke.

  “Divided by a common language,” she smiled, as she washed and dried her hands in the bathroom.

  “What’s that, luv?”

  “I was just thinking how different British English is from American English.”

  “Yeah, you lot talk funny,” he teased, putting a plate in front of her piled with thick slices of turkey breast, peas and broccoli, and a veritable Everest of mashed potatoes.

  A ready argument sprang to her lips, but then her eyes feasted on the plate and she breathed in the aroma of roast turkey and gravy.

  Nick smiled as his clever, argumentative woman was silenced. And yes, he did have pumpkin pie with certain plans in mind for the whipped cream.

  Full of great food and a couple of glasses of wine, Anna sprawled on the sofa, her head resting on Nick’s thighs. She’d almost embarrassed herself by becoming teary when he flipped to the children’s movie section and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving started playing.

  When her phone rang from the kitchen, she was too full and sleepy to move, and waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the annoying ringing.

  “I’ll get that then, shall I?” Nick chuckled quietly.

  She heard him walk to the kitchen and answer her cell.

  “It’s your dad,” he said, handing it over to her. “I’ll be clearing up in the kitchen.”

  “Hi, Dad! Happy Thanksgiving!”

  There was a long pause.

  “Hello?”

  “How’s my favourite daughter?”

  She felt a swell of emotion at hearing his voice across the miles.

  “Dad! I’m an only child! But I’m good, really good! How are you and Mom?”

  “She’ll talk to you in a minute.” He paused. “Who answered the phone just now?”

  Anna sat up.

  “That’s Nick.”

  “The man you told us about. One of the players.”

  “Yes,” she said in a clipped tone.

  “You’re still seeing him, despite everything I said?”

  Her brain couldn’t come up with an answer quickly enough and her silence spoke louder than the words she choked on.

  She could hear her dad swearing in the background as he passed the phone to her mother.

  “Anna, it’s Mom. What’s going on? Why is your father so mad?”

  “I . . . I’m still seeing Nick,” she whispered, clutching the phone tightly in her hand. “He wasn’t a client when we met.”

  It was stretching the truth, but she had first seen him when she was out having dinner. She cringed at her own words and her mother’s disappointed sigh.

  “Not again, Anna.”

  “It’s not like that! Well, it is, but . . . I’m sorry, Mom.” Why am I apologizing? I’m thirty years old! “You’d like him. He’s really great! He cooked me Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I hope he’s good to you because you know the risk you’re taking. Is he worth it?”

  “I love him.”

  Her mother sighed again.

  “Please think carefully, sweetheart. We discussed this months ago. You didn’t tell us you were still seeing him. I can’t help thinking that’s because you know it’s a bad idea.” She sighed softly. “I’m not sure your father could go through it all a second time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  As the call ended, tears tracked down Anna’s cheeks. She hated disappointing her parents. She felt disgusted with herself, upset by the worry she heard in their voices, her father’s anger.

  Her mother’s allusion to the affair with Jonathan stung deeply. She knew that in thei
r eyes she was making the same mistake again. It had been one hell of a truth-bomb.

  But this wasn’t a mistake! She and Nick loved each other! He told her every day that he loved her.

  The tears came faster.

  Was Nick worth her job? Undoubtedly.

  Was he worth her job, her reputation and her parents’ disappointment and pain?

  She hurried into the bathroom splashing cold water on her face, trying to reduce the unhappy flush in her cheeks, but it was a losing battle.

  When she trudged back into the living room, Nick was sitting on the sofa waiting for her.

  It was obvious to Nick that Anna had been crying. She tried to deny it, saying she’d eaten too much and felt a little queasy, but he knew her well enough to read the misery on her face. It frustrated the hell out of him that she wouldn’t tell him what had upset her. Although he could made a damn good guess.

  It scared him that the continued secrecy was poisoning their relationship. They couldn’t go on like this.

  Two days later, Nick dragged the truth out of her. He was angry at her old man, but couldn’t blame him either. The whole thing left him feeling like the world’s biggest arsehole. Because of the spat, she’d decided to stay in London for Christmas and as he was going to his parents, she’d be alone. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “Come with me when I go home at Christmas,” he said as she started to make a grocery list.

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” she said, dropping the pen and crossing her arms across her chest.

  Nick was momentarily distracted as his eyes followed the movement of her breasts, then brought his brain back online.

  “Why not?”

  “Because!”

  She swept the air between them with her hands.

  Nick just stared at her, a puzzled frown on his face. Anna huffed in frustration.

  “Because no one can know about us!”

  Nick laughed. He absolutely laughed and Anna wanted to smack his smug face. Then kiss it better.

  “I told Mum and Dad about you months ago. They’re looking forward to meeting you. And Trish.”

  “You . . . you told them?”

  “Course I did.”

  “But . . .”

  He took her hands and wrapped them around his waist, then pulled her against his chest.

  “You’re important to me. I love you. Of course I told my family about you. They know how much you’ve helped me. And they know why we have to keep it quiet for now.”

  “Oh.”

  Worry hung in the air like fog.

  “We’ll drive up on Christmas Eve. If we leave it late enough, the traffic shouldn’t be too bad.”

  “Oh.”

  He grinned and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Time to meet the in-laws,” and he released her with a wink.

  Wait, what? In-laws?!

  Christmas Eve 2015

  NICK WAS HAPPY to be going home. Even happier that Anna was sitting beside him as he drove north.

  Sheffield’s pavements glittered with a hard frost, and cars at traffic lights trailed clouds of vapour.

  Despite the biting cold and the late hour, crowds of revellers ambled along the streets, waving cheerfully at the passing cars.

  “You know, I never figured you for the kind of guy who’d drive a Beamer.”

  “Yeah, why’s that?”

  “It’s a nice car but . . .”

  “Spit it out, luv.”

  “Well, it’s kind of flashy!”

  Nick laughed but didn’t mention the BMW had been Molly’s choice. He’d thought about selling it, but, well, it was a great drive.

  He glanced across at Anna. She was anxious but trying not to show it. She’d definitely gone overboard on presents for his family, and the back seat was piled with parcels of various sizes, all professionally wrapped in colourful Christmas paper.

  “It’ll be fine. They’ll love you.”

  Nick’s reassurances were unheard and Anna sat ramrod straight in her seat.

  He pressed his lips together but didn’t try to convince her again. If she was really uncomfortable, he could try to find a hotel. Although he wasn’t sure how easy that would be on Christmas Eve.

  He pulled up outside his parents’ semi-detached in a quiet suburban street and turned to Anna. He didn’t speak, just kissed her quickly. Sometimes their kisses were so hot, the soft furnishings were in danger of catching light, but this kiss was meant to reassure and to remind her that whatever happened, they were together.

  Nick wasn’t worried about his parents. He knew they’d like her, and felt certain they’d grow to love her. Anna’s anxiety came because of her own parents’ reaction to their relationship. That still pissed him off.

  He climbed from the car, stretching out the kinks in his spine as he walked to her side to open the passenger door, but she was already out and pulling packages from the backseat.

  A broad beam of yellow light spilled across the doorstep as Nick’s mum barrelled toward them.

  “Nick! Merry Christmas, luv.”

  He laughed as his tiny mother pulled him down for a hug.

  “And you must be Anna.”

  Anna froze as Nick’s mother walked towards her determinedly, her carpet slippers leaving faint prints in the snow. And then she was embraced in a warm hug.

  “Oh, she’s lovely, Nick! Come on in out of the cold, luv. Leave the men to unpack the car. You must be perished.”

  Protesting weakly, Anna was led inside. Nick’s dad shook her hand on his way out to help Nick unload the car, and then Trish was squeezing her tightly.

  “I’m Nick’s big sister,” she smiled. “It’s great to meet you at last. You’d think we all had mange the way he’s been avoiding this.”

  Anna felt guilty.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s probably because . . . well, me . . . and, um . . .”

  Trish waved a hand.

  “Yeah, he said you have to keep it on the QT. But not family.”

  Anna wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she stayed silent.

  “Cup of tea?” offered Nick’s mum.

  “Mum! She’s just driven up from London and faced with us lot! She’d probably prefer a glass of wine. Or maybe a bottle of vodka if Nick’s driven her to drink yet.”

  Anna smiled. “Tea’s fine, thank you. It’s pretty cold out there.”

  She’d have loved a glass of wine but hadn’t eaten since lunch and it was nearly 9PM. Definitely not the time to get sloppy drunk when meeting Nick’s family for the first time.

  Nick’s mum shot Trish a triumphant look.

  “How do you take it? Milk and sugar?”

  “Uh, black and weak, please. Do you have any lemon?”

  Nick’s mum looked desperately disappointed.

  “Sorry, luv, we don’t. Just black and weak alright? Or a coffee? What about a hot chocolate?”

  “Mum!” snorted Trish. “Leave her alone. She said tea’s fine.”

  “I’m just being hospitable, Miss Bossyboots!”

  Anna smiled, but their warmth made her miss her own family. She hated fighting with her dad.

  “Anything hot and wet is perfect,” she said.

  When she realised how that sounded, her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed bright red.

  Trish burst out laughing.

  “Oh my God! I completely agree!”

  Nick’s mum just smiled and shook her head.

  Anna was mortified.

  “I can’t believe I said that!” she croaked.

  “Said what?” Nick asked, filling the small living room with his large presence as he dumped suitcases, bags and parcels in a messy pile.

  “Your girlfriend told Mum she likes it hot and wet!” Trish crowed. “God, she’s fab, Nick. Can we keep her?”

  Nick laughed, then squeezed himself between Trish and Anna on the sofa, ignoring his sister’s annoyed squeaks as he squashed her into the corner.

  “I know you l
ike it hot and wet, babe,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, “but maybe just stick to ‘hello’ for the first five minutes.”

  “I hate you,” she mumbled, her cheeks still burning.

  “Nah, you love me,” he laughed. “Can’t help yourself, can you?”

  She gave him a reluctant smile.

  Nick’s mum arrived with cups of tea all around, and plates of sandwiches and mini sausage rolls. Eyeing all the bags in the middle of the room, she told Nick off and he was sent to take their luggage upstairs. Anna could hear him thumping through the house. The walls seemed very thin, she thought ruefully.

  Trish passed her a plate of food and a paper napkin with reindeer on it.

  “Thank you for putting a smile on my brother’s face,” she said, her voice soft and sincere.

  Christmas Day 2015

  It was the best Christmas for years, Nick decided. His parents loved Anna, just as he knew they would, and Trish and Anna had been chatting away like old friends.

  On Christmas Eve, they’d cuddled in his narrow bed and listened to the church bells ringing out Midnight Mass. They’d made slow, quiet love, and Anna had held a pillow over her face to stop herself from making too much noise, but her body had still quivered around his, sending him over the edge, followed by a deep sleep.

  They’d woken on Christmas morning, feeling giggly and childish as they snuggled under the duvet and made lightning trips to the bathroom, waiting for the central heating to come on.

  And when they had lunch, Nick didn’t care that his mum’s turkey was dry or the roast potatoes burnt, and that his grandparents got tipsy on sweet Sherry and fell asleep in front of the telly during the Queen’s Christmas Speech. He didn’t care that Trish had given him the ugliest novelty jumper ever with a knitted reindeer who had a rugby ball for a nose and seemed cross-eyed. He was happier than he could ever remember.

  Anna’s presents to Nick had included downloading some great chill-out tunes to his phone so he could listen to them before matches, a gift certificate to drive an Aston Martin at Silverstone race track—something she knew he’d always wanted to do, Roget et Gallet bath products, and—his favourite—IOUs for more massages. His present to her had been a delicate gold necklace with a tiny rugby ball on it. He’d wanted to give her a ring, but sensed it was too soon for that. But definitely one day.