Archive of Our Own

Rebecca had done the math. Of course she had. Three hundred sixty-five days, thirty-eight Premier League matches, eleven Women’s Super League 2 fixtures, one promotion, eleven Women’s Super League matches. She'd tried not to count the hours, but actually it was eight thousand seven hundred fifty-one hours.

That’s how long had passed since the hug. The one that changed everything.

She admired the framed picture Keeley had gifted her for Secret Santa, placing it on her bedroom dresser, lips curling up. Ted and her, singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Looking in each other’s eyes like there was nothing and nobody else in the room.

Her finger traced the frame's edge. She remembered that feeling like it was yesterday. The warmth of singing with him. The dread of what it meant. 

Still today, sometimes she got shaky legs just looking at him.

She opened a drawer, finding the elf hat stored in there with a few other Christmas paraphernalia. The last touch. Getting ready for their Christmas Day tradition.

Clink.

She tilted her head. Was that—?

Clink.

Oh, definitely. 

She walked to the window and yes, down there was Ted, ducking for another pebble. When he spotted her, arm already cocked to throw, he stopped. Softened.

Something in her chest loosened at the sight of him and his mustache stretched across his face. The way he looked at her sent a chill down her spine.

"Hey, Boss!"

"Hi, Ted." She leaned out the window, rocking back and forth on one foot.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

She grinned, holding back a laugh. There was no snow anywhere, the grass in her garden perfectly green.

"It doesn’t have to be a snowman," Ted said, hands cupping his mouth.

She shook her head in fond exasperation. "Ted, you’re gonna freeze, come inside!" 

She walked downstairs and joined him in the foyer. Her stomach flipped when she saw him in front of her. 

For Christ’s sake, Rebecca, get it together.

"It’s not that cold, really," he said as he stepped in. "You should see how cold it gets in Kansas over Christmas. Now that’ll freeze your bum."

She laughed. "Do you have your Santa hat?"

He pulled it from his back pocket with a flourish.

"Perfect. We just need to get the presents in the boot."

Rebecca led him through to the kitchen, where a pile of sacks filled with presents lay.

"What d’you think our friend Tom will wanna do this time? He’ll be disappointed there's no snow."

"Oh, I’m sure he’ll think of something." Rebecca walked around him, reaching through to get an envelope from the counter. Her hand moved of its own accord as if directed by a magnet, brushing the spot between his shoulder blades—and had he shivered at her touch? 

She held a letter up, written in a child's careful handwriting. "He’s wished for noise canceling earphones, a babysitter for his sister, and Monopoly."

"Ooh, he better be prepared to lose every last pound to the Queen of Commerce herself."

She chuckled, then went quiet, looking out the window. Lost in thought. Ted moved closer, standing just behind and to her left, softly observing.

"You sure you wanna go to the Higginses after?"

She turned slightly to look at him, a shy smile on her face.

"You want to go."

"Party, charades, singing, all the jazz? Sure, I can do that. But we don’t have to."

"You know we won’t be allowed to play on the same team this year?"

"For charades? Oh, I know." His hand traveled to her lower back, splayed there. Warm. "But it’ll be for a good reason." 

A smirk formed on her face as she turned to face him fully, arms circling around his neck. He pulled her close, flush against him.

"That it will." 

His eyes dropped to her lips, lingering just a beat. With the carefulness and patience he still displayed every day. 

As if he didn’t want to scare her off. (As if he could!) 

Her eyes crinkled. He closed his lips over her smile. She hummed against his mouth. His lips were soft, his hands steady on her back, the taste of him familiar now.

"It will be fine," she said. 

But she could feel her own fear coiled beneath her ribs. In a few hours, they'd walk into that party as a couple. The team knew, officially. But this would be different. This would be real. This was the beginning of everyone knowing.

And once everyone knew, the press would follow. The scrutiny. The questions about power dynamics and propriety and whether she was making another mistake. Her freedom stolen by thousands of prying eyes.

Ted's thumb brushed against her lower back, pulling her from her spiral.

"Ready to spread some Christmas cheer?" he asked, smile real even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Absolutely."

They weren't ready. Not really.

But they were going to do it anyway.

"I promise, everyone plays like that," Rebecca exclaimed, hands on the steering wheel.

"Then why isn’t it in the rulebook?"

"Since when do you care about the rulebook?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Since I lost because you said you get 400 pounds just for landing on Go!"

"You didn’t lose because of that, you lost because you bought Mayfair right at the very end thinking I’d trade you Park Lane." 

"An’ because Tom milked me on Old Kent Road."

She snickered. "It was fun."

"It was fun to see me bleed every single pound?" He tried to give his voice the best rendition of disbelief.

"Yes," she said softly, laid her right hand on top of his knee. "I…" She gave him a side glance. "It was a lovely afternoon. I loved it."

He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, kissed her knuckles.

"I loved every single bit of it."

Her cheeks reddened and he felt his heart swell. He did affect her. It was still hard to believe, but he did. And maybe, just maybe, it would last long enough. 

But he wasn’t a fool. He knew once the novelty wore off, she'd see what everyone else would surely see: that Ted Lasso, divorced father of one, coach with a track record of leaving, wasn't enough for Rebecca Welton.

At least he knew where he stood. And he’d make the best out of it in the meantime. No regrets.

The car stopped. Rebecca’s eyes fixed somewhere beyond the windshield. She’d been nervous all week. She’d been nervous before they’d told the team and she’d been nervous after. 

Pacing up and down the office when they’d talked about how to do it. Wringing her hands before they entered the locker room. Being distant, off in her mind.

He tried not to think too much about it. Not to take it personally. But he worried. He understood she didn’t want the press in on their relationship. He didn’t either. But why she was so nervous to be public in their club—that he didn’t quite grasp. And it made his stomach churn.

"We don’t have to go in," he said, almost a whisper. There was hardly anything he wanted more than to share his love for her with the people they loved. But there was hardly anything he wanted less than for her to suffer.

"We can go home, get in our PJs, eat ice cream and watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Or something less depressing," he added.

She turned to look at him, a soft smile on her lips.

"No. This time is as good as any. Let’s do this."

She gave his hand a squeeze and stepped out.

At Higgins’ door, casserole under his arm, wine bottle in her hand, she sighed once more before taking his free hand.

Okay. They were doing this. Hand in hand.

Higgins opened the door and beamed at them. As they lost their coats, a few players walked by and greeted them warmly. Rebecca’s shoulders were high by her ears, spine straight.

He laid a hand on her lower back, hoping it would be a comforting touch. Keeley spied them from across the room and walked over with Roy. 

Good. They were their safe base, having experienced them as a couple on a few dinners and been witness to their stolen glances and touches during pub outings.

Hugs and kisses were exchanged, Merry Christmases wished, drinks distributed.

"How was your afternoon so far?" Keeley asked. Rebecca’s face softened.

"Very Christmassy." She turned to look at Ted. He smiled, besotted. "Delivering presents. Playing Monopoly with seven-year-olds. The usual."

"Here, let me ask you somethin’, Roy. If you land on Go, do you get two hundred or four hundred pounds?"

Roy frowned. "Two hundred."

"See?!" Ted looked at Rebecca triumphantly. "I would’ve won."

"Pffft, please, Roy just doesn’t— Keeley. Two hundred or four hundred?"

"It’s been a long time since I played Monopoly. And it was Strip Monopoly. But if you landed on go, you took off two pieces. So I guess four hundred?"

Rebecca turned to look squarely at Ted, eyebrow raised sky-high. He was frozen, eyes darting from left to right. 

"Okay, I’m not sure what to do with that information, but I guess we’re far from settling this."

And he couldn’t care less, because by now Rebecca had laughed, she had inched closer to him and her hand was softly caressing his thigh. She felt better and that was all he needed.

Rebecca sat on the stairs alone with Keeley. She was thankful for a little reprieve in a quiet corner. Having all those eyes fixed on her made her want to run. It was exhausting to have to measure her every move. 

"How are you feeling?" Keeley asked her, eyes searching hers.

Rebecca sighed, took a sip of her wine.

"I wish it was easier. I wish this was just for us both."

"Well, all couples have to navigate a context of sorts. It just happens to be a bit more high stakes for you two."

Rebecca hummed. "Feels like walking on ice. Like it’s only a matter of time before someone calls me Randy Rebecca again or questions my integrity."

"Nobody here’s gonna do that though."

"Keeley, I’m their boss. They expect me to act a certain way. To make good decisions."

"And you think this isn’t one?" Keeley said, lowering her voice.

"What if it felt more like an inevitability than a decision?"

It hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing. 

After last year’s Christmas party, she had tried to go back to normal. She’d focused on Matthijs, had tried to be professional at Biscuits with the Boss. But Keeley still had noticed something was off, and she’d asked her about it.

"What did you do when you had feelings for both Roy and Jamie?" was the answer Rebecca gave her. Keeley almost sputtered her wine.

"I knew what was going on, but I didn’t think you were fully aware of it."

Rebecca held her forehead with her hands. "I’m properly fucked, aren’t I?"

"Oh, honey." Keeley rubbed her back.

"What do I do? I don’t want to hurt either of them and I think it’s already happening."

"The only thing that worked for me was time. Not putting myself under pressure. Allowing my heart to speak out the truth, even if it’s complicated."

So she did. 

Sort of.

She listened to what her heart said when she was with Matthijs. She tried desperately to muffle the sound of it when she was with Ted. 

He was also trying to continue as if nothing happened. She noticed his forced brightness, the way he measured every word. But their silences turned more significant. Their touches more electric. Their thoughts even more synchronous.

It took her months. 

Months of trying to make it work with someone who was good and simple. Someone the press didn’t care about. Someone who had no complications weaved in whatsoever.

But on a balmy evening, sitting on the deck on the houseboat, her heart spoke. It screamed, rather. She felt it in her bones before she was able to think it. 

There was a soft gust of wind. It felt like a ghost caressing her arms. It felt like Ted caressing her arms. Only he’d never done that. But she already knew how it felt.

She hugged herself, hands caressing her bare arms, holding on.

It was ironic that she had that realization exactly in the same place she’d finally broken free from Rupert. She chuckled. Matthijs asked why. She knew it’d hurt. Her heart was torn in two. But one part was bigger. Deeper. Scarier. And that part? It belonged to Ted.

When she came back to Richmond, she didn’t tell him she’d ended things with Matthijs. But he knew. She could see it in the way he looked at her, in the way he behaved. He was more subdued. Less careful, more himself again. 

And the bigger part in her heart grew and grew until it threatened to take over her entire body.

Ted’s eyes were on Rebecca during the entire party, tracking how she was doing.

Even though he wouldn’t be able to do anything. And that killed him. Because he was the source of her discomfort. And by running to her side, he would only draw more attention on them and make it worse.

So he was subtle. Tried to, at least. 

His eyes followed her across the room, laughing, chatting animatedly with the players. How he got to go home with such a beautiful, big-hearted person was beyond him.

So when she laid eyes on him, his smile grew so big it hurt his jaw. He checked in with a little raise of his eyebrows. She gave him a short nod, smiling. His heart threatened to jump out of his chest. He still managed to mime filling a glass and she understood, nodding again.

Spotting the wine bottle was easy. Finding his way across the room through to her was more challenging, Higgins’ house getting fuller by the minute. Standing next to her was the hard part—his hands fighting his head, yearning to touch her. 

"Thanks, Ted," she said, voice warm. She placed a hand on his back, looking at him with the softest green eyes, all of it in front of several female players. He took a sharp breath. Then he allowed his own hand to wander between her shoulder blades.

"So. How did you get together?" Julia asked, bursting their bubble. "Was it in Liverpool?"

"Julia!" Daphne exclaimed.

"How—?" Rebecca said, eyes wide, at the same time as Julia shrugged with an innocent "What?".

"Yeah, we gotta settle the bet," Kerstin piped in.

"Whoa whoa, a bet?" His voice turned out a bit higher than intended. This was the kind of thing Rebecca would hate.

"Yeah, Kerstin won the first bet and now I want my twenty quid back," Julia explained nonchalantly.

"What first—?" His voice was frantic now. 

He was interrupted by a very calm Rebecca. "Yes."

Ted froze, giving her a side glance.

"And that’s all you’re gonna get," she added firmly but playfully, as Julia received money from both Kerstin and Daphne.

"You heard the boss," he added, but he wasn’t looking at the players. His eyes were entirely lost in Rebecca’s, his hand lower now, on her hip, while she gifted him a smirk that meant only trouble for him.

It had happened in Liverpool. Of course.

It had happened like this.

A few weeks after the start of the season, just when he was getting ready to get out of the house with Henry, Roy had sent him a text message.

She’ll be in a bad mood today.

He had attached a link to an article in The Sun. It featured a few paparazzi pictures of Rebecca, taken from a rather… unflattering angle. The article speculated that she was pregnant, while at the same time criticizing the decision of becoming a mother at fifty.

His heart sank to his feet. First, confusion settled in. Could she really—? Then he remembered her drinking gin and tonic last night in the pub. A confirmation of how rotten the press could be. 

He didn’t know much about it, but from her stories with Jelka and a few comments about kids and Rupert, he’d put two and two together. It was clear that the article was salt in the wound.

The plan formed in his mind on the way to the club. He told the girls he’d be initiating them into an AFC Richmond ritual. In preparation for their first overnight away trip in the Super League.

This time, he made sure he was the one to invite Rebecca. As expected, she accepted.

She gave him a long look, as if trying to figure out what was in his head. He gave her the best poker face he could muster. Surely she’d figured out why he was doing it, but that wasn’t the point.

"Do you have something you want to burn?" he asked.

"I do."

They met at midnight in the treatment room. The girls each threw an item in the barrel, sharing stories of childhood, youth. Of pressure and disappointment. Of hurt and love.

When it was Rebecca’s time, she produced the paper, just as he’d expected. She shared a glance with him. He nodded. He was so proud of her. Of her strength and resilience. He hoped she could feel it.

"Fuck the haters," she said, throwing the newspaper into the bin. There were hollers and hoots from the girls. Fuck thems and Yeahs thrown in for good measure.

Rebecca smiled and he chuckled. Mission accomplished.

This time, she stayed for the entire thing. The burning, the drinking, the togetherness.

They were the last ones to leave the building. They walked together to the car park, hands brushing each other every couple of steps, neither of them pulling away.

They stood facing each other in front of her Rolls Royce. The air was still warm. She had her hair down and the breeze made her curls dance. She looked exceptionally soft in her pink dress. Her smile was a mix of shy and unguarded.

They were both tipsy. His hair was a bit disheveled. She twisted her hands in front of her while he rocked on his heels. He was making a big effort not to blurt out something. 

You’re beautiful. The moonlight makes your eyes shine. I love you.

Then, after what felt like minutes of silence, she spoke, almost a whisper.

"Thank you for tonight, Ted."

"Of course, Rebecca."

Her eyes widened when she heard her name. Not Boss. Rebecca.

"I’m afraid I’ve had a bit to drink," she said. He tilted his head at her, not entirely sure why—

Oh.

She smiled when she felt the penny drop. Then she looked at her feet.

"So have I, yeah," he answered, nodding his head and equally interested in the gravel on the car park.

"Ted." She laid a hand on his arm. His eyes darted up, catching hers in the moonlight. "I’m looking forward to Liverpool." 

His breath caught.

It sounded like an invitation. A promise.

He didn’t sleep a wink that night.

They won against Everton.

When the girls decided to go to a karaoke bar, he huffed a laugh. 

They sat next to each other all evening. They only ever got up to get each other drinks.

She didn’t sing this time.

Daphne and Lisa were offering a very off-key rendition of Wannabe when Rebecca came back from the bar with a glass of water. She smiled briefly at him, then fixed her eyes on the singing pair.

He swallowed hard. She was sobering up. Wanted to be sober. For what was coming. 

And he knew, without either of them having to spell it out—everything was about to change. 

He placed his beer bottle on the table in front of them. When her glass was empty, he went to the bar and came back with two water glasses. 

She studied him, her eyes dancing behind her lashes. She exhaled—long and through her lips. Then she shifted her body. Almost imperceptibly to the outside eye, but their thighs were now touching from knee to hip.

His skin felt like it was a thousand degrees. Breathing was harder than that time he’d gone to the Finnish sauna with Beard. 

It went on for hours. As twenty drunken players belted songs, from Blondie to Oasis to Brandi Carlile, he sat there, almost motionless. The less alcohol in his blood, the stronger he felt each sensation burn through his skin. Each more intense than the previous the longer they sat.

Each minute felt like bliss and torture. Her warm body next to his—the most fulfilling of sensations. Evidence that the walls between them were crumbling.

She stole glances. With every sip of her water, her eyes darted sidewise to him. He shifted slightly in his seat. She did too, her shoulder now leaning on his. 

His heart sped up to levels he hardly achieved when he ran laps with the girls. He lowered his hand and it landed right next to hers. Not just their hands, their entire arms now glued together from wrist to shoulder.

He wanted to glue more of them together. All of them.  

Already now, the edges of his own body were ceasing to exist. Melting with her. With her touch, her perfume, the hum of the air between them.

Some of the players decided to go on to a club. The rest decided that they were through with singing and wanted to walk to the hotel. Rebecca and Ted didn’t get up. They said good night and didn’t move a muscle.

Then they were alone.

Their glasses were empty.

He was scared if he got up he’d break the spell.

"You didn’t sing," she said.

"You didn’t either."

"I didn’t want to move."

His heart kicked like a drum.

"Rebecca—" His voice pleaded. It said break my heart if you have to, but put me out of this misery.

She gazed into his eyes, blinked. Her face was inches away from his.

Her fingers moved slightly, tingling his hand. He responded, wriggling his. She threaded their fingers together.

One more puzzle piece clicking in.

He knew his eyes must be dark with want. He knew she’d see his breath stutter. 

He didn’t care.

"I’m done," she whispered. "I’m done trying to resist this."

His eyes widened and his mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. He wanted to ask. What changed? Resist what? What does it mean?

Because he was all in and all he knew from her was that she wanted something. Something significant enough she wanted to be sober for it. But what exactly? 

In hindsight, he’d realize he made a decision in microseconds. He calculated the chances she’d be all in—slim. He saw himself break when it all ended—which it would. He imagined what would happen in between—too good to pass. 

But in that moment, he wasn’t aware of it. All he knew was her, her emerald eyes, her fingers in his, her body glued to his, the hum of her voice, her blonde curls, her scent. 

He never knew whether she moved first or he did. 

All he knew was that her mouth tasted even better than he imagined. And he’d imagined it—many, many times. 

Her lips were softer. The sounds she made even more satisfying. And her hunger for him bigger than he could dream of.

She tugged impatiently at his hair on the back of his neck while he cupped her face with one hand, her waist with the other. 

A soft, tentative kiss gave way to a hungry one. That one deepened and was followed by many small tastes of each other’s lips. Mapping them, making sure with each press of lips that yes, she tasted like this, and yes, he tasted like that.

Her smile grew bigger between kisses until it reached her ears. An honest, warm, vulnerable smile. It was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, even on her. And he was responsible for it.

"What?" he asked softly, eyes still barely an inch from hers. 

"Just better than I imagined." Her fingers traveled across his jaw.

"You imagined?" His voice was full of disbelief, and he felt disoriented under her touch. If someone said to vacate the club, he wouldn’t know where the door was. Heck, he didn’t even know where the floor was anymore.

"Way more often than either of us can count."

He buried his face in her hair, nuzzling her ear, dropping a kiss underneath. 

"Rebecca—" he whispered, making her shiver. 

All the words had been blown out of his mind. It stayed like that the rest of the night. No thoughts in his mind, just feeling.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Not in the bar, not later in her hotel room. 

And she surprised him, oh, how she did. Her impatience, her greediness. Her softness. Her openness. How she fit perfectly in his arms. How his heart felt like it had arrived.

He fell asleep with her hair tickling his chin, her breathing steady against his chest, knowing: This. This is what I've been waiting for.

Until the first sun rays streamed into her room.

As the night went on, Rebecca found herself relaxing into it. She mingled, exchanged stories, watched Ted from across the room, playing with Higgins’ youngest. 

Seeing him with kids made something inside her chest soften. Dangerous territory, that—but she'd stopped trying to fight it.

"Keep it in your pants, Welton!" Keeley shout-whispered in her ear in a deep voice, having sneaked in from behind. It startled Rebecca so strongly she jumped in her seat, one hand landing on her speeding heart.

"Jesus Christ, Keeley!" She brought her hands to her cheeks. They were glowing.

Keeley snickered and sat down next to her, bumping her shoulder with Rebecca’s.

"I love seeing you like this. Suits you."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. 

"Come on. We’re playing charades," Keeley announced. "I want you in my team!"

Keeley, Jan Maas and Daphne had… interesting moves when miming. When it was time for Ted to mime, Rebecca leaned back on the couch with a smirk. Higgins listed every single movie title from the 80s and 90s without being even close to guessing the right one. Ted’s time was up and his team had only guessed one movie. He looked at her, arms outstretched.

"Rebecca! Please tell me you knew that one!"

She smiled smugly. "The Holiday."

Ted widened his eyes. "Thank you!" Then turned around to Higgins, Bumbercatch and Roy with a stern look.

Jan Maas shook his head. "I already said last year they should’ve been in separate teams. And now we know why."

Ted tried to school his features while Rebecca turned scarlet red.

Last year she'd been so certain she had everything under control. Professional. Contained. Correct. And then she'd hugged him and felt everything she'd been pretending not to feel. And everyone had been watching.

Everyone had known. Jan Maas, Julia, Bumbercatch, everyone. 

She couldn’t hold up the expectation of always being controlled, infallible. And that meant she could muck up again. 

At least after talking to Keeley she realized she’d actively chosen this. It had been her decision. That night in Liverpool. And the morning after.

She’d woken still in Ted’s arms, legs tangled together. His hand had been drawing circles and tingling up and down her arm. Her body was warm, her breath calm and slow. She was exactly where she needed to be. And she knew she’d always want to be there.

His voice was rough and his kisses tender. But he was off kilter. At first she thought it was because of the stress of having to get out of her room without anyone seeing.

But in the team bus, his shoulders were where his neck should be, and his leg bounced nonstop. He wasn’t talking either. No folksy stories, no puns about Liverpool, no road trip games.

Halfway through their ride, she gently put her hand on his leg.

"Ted." He looked up at her, something in his eyes tense and fearful. "Talk to me."

"Rebecca—" He sounded pained. His leg had stopped bouncing, but he was running his fingers through his hair, eyes downcast. 

"You can tell me," she said softly. "You can tell me anything."

He looked around. They were sitting in the back of the bus, alone. The assistant coaches were up front, the rows in front of them empty, and the player sitting closest had headphones on.

"I’m not a one-night-stand kinda guy."

"I know that."

"I’m all sorts of messed up and I’m in this way too deep. An’ you’re my boss and I don’t want to put you in a position like that— An’ the press, I can’t even imagine what they’ll say. I don’t care what they say bout me, but havin’ you go through any kind of scrutiny again? I don’t want that for you. But I’ll be damned, I cannot change what I feel. Thing is, I have— I have a complicated past, and I’m way too— for someone like—"

"Ted." She squeezed his thigh slightly so he’d look at her. "I’m in love with you." His eyes widened and she loved that—loved surprising him with the truth. "Have been for months. I was trying to push it away." She huffed a laugh. "But it’s only gotten stronger. No matter how complicated this may be."

"You— What?" His voice cracked. "Why?"

"Did you just ask me why I’m in love with you?"

"Sorry, I’m havin’ some trouble processing."

She chuckled. She felt remarkably calm, except for her palms starting to be a bit sweaty. 

"So we’re… doin’ this?"

She hummed. "Looks like we are."

He nodded, a smile forming broader and broader on his face.

"I really wanna kiss you right now."

Her mouth formed a little smirk. "Leave it for later."

"Is it later yet?" He made her chuckle. He squeezed the hand that was still on his thigh, caught his eyes with hers. "I’m in love with you too, R’becca."

She’d known. But hearing it from him—here, now—made her throat tight and the butterflies in her stomach swarm. 

The butterflies never left. Waking up next to him was one of her favorite things to do. He kissed her bad mood away if necessary. He made her feel loved and wanted from the very first second of her day. She always laughed within the first fifteen minutes of their day if they woke together.

Even on that Christmas Eve morning, the butterflies had been alive and kicking. He brought her tea to bed. They showered together. He lathered her hair. Every place he touched her left a tingling sensation on her skin and a need for more. He obliged. He always did. 

He listened to her sounds, studied how she moved. He electrified her with his touch—first teasing, then certain, mounting her pleasure until she saw stars. Until her knees buckled, barely able to stand in her shower. And his strong arms held her, peppering kisses on her neck, clavicle, wrist.

Rebecca was brought out of her reminiscence by the shouts around her. The opposing team had just won, Higgins’ renditions were apparently legendary, he was still collecting applauses. 

Ted was doing a little celebratory dance with Bumbercatch while Roy rolled his eyes in that way she knew meant he was enjoying everything. Keeley’s hand was on her back, murmuring something about how they’d get them next year.

This. This was what she terrified her. Not the press, not what other people said. That would be annoying, sure. 

But this warmth, the belonging, the love. She’d already built a life with Ted. 

This was what was at risk. She could lose everything she’d ever wanted. 

She’d been trying to keep it separate during the first weeks of their relationship. If they weren’t out in the open, she didn’t have to face how they’d already joined their lives. But she’d only been fooling herself.

She was all in. She always had been. There was no going back.

"Ms Welton! Coach!" A few players had gathered around them and Higgins was already sitting by the piano. "It’s tradition!"

She covered her face with her hands, and when Ted approached her and gently rubbed her back, she conceded.

Ted whispered a song name in her ear and she had to give it to him. It was a testament to how long he’d been in Britain that he’d even think of that song. How he was mingling his life with hers, too. Higgins nodded and started them up with his best rock’n’roll moves on the keyboard.

Ted took the first verse and everyone around them cheered and danced. She could hardly believe that her life contained this amount of joy.

When they reached the chorus, they sang together. Not just Ted and Rebecca, no. Everyone in the room joined in varying degrees of pitch.

So here it is Merry Christmas

Everybody's having fun

Look to the future now

It's only just begun

As she sang, she looked around the room. All of these people she loved. 

She looked at Ted. Someone who still made her feel so much, and at the same time it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket by her nana when she was a child. When the adults’ voices would be muffled and she’d feel cocooned.

She sang and danced and laughed and looked in Ted’s eyes as they rocked together, hands joined. 

She felt it all. The novelty and the familiarity. The nervousness and the comfort. The fear and the wonder.

The party was getting louder, warmer, more chaotic. Rebecca had lost track of Ted. She looked in the kitchen and on the stairs, in the study and every corner of the living room. Then she remembered.

And yes, there he was. In the garden, out in the cold, looking up into the starry sky.

"Found your North Star yet?"

He turned around and smiled at her, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew this Ted. The one that got lost in his spiraling thoughts.

She knew she could ask him what was going on and he’d likely answer. But she also knew he’d talk about it whenever he was ready.

"On my own? Not a chance. Help me?"

She walked over to him. He put his arms around her middle and she leaned back, enjoying the steadiness and warmth of his chest against her back. The tickle of his mustache against her ear. The rumble of his voice.

"I got the big dipper, there." He pointed towards the constellation. Rebecca squinted and hummed.

"Got it. Then follow the two pointer stars further up." She traced a line with her finger.

"It’s supposed to be five times their distance. Tell you what, that’s hard when you don’t have a ruler."

She laughed. "You don’t need a ruler, Ted. Here." She laid her fingers in front of the pointer stars, aligning her head to his. "My index finger is one length." 

Ted aligned his finger to hers. "Two lengths." Rebecca laughed again. They fumbled with their hands to get their distance.

"There!" Ted exclaimed. "You see?!"

"Yes." Rebecca nodded excitedly.

"I swear it wasn’t there earlier. Must’ve been a cloud over it."

They marveled at it for a few beats. Hugged against each other, until Rebecca turned in his arms to face him.

"Remember last year?" Ted hummed, his chest vibrating against hers. "We couldn’t find it back then. I think I was looking in all the wrong places."

She wasn’t talking about constellations. He knew.

"I was in love with you back then," he murmured, eyes tinted with a hint of sadness.

"I knew." 

It was quiet around them. Their exhales were visible in the cold.

"And I thought—" His jaw tensed. "I thought the best thing I could do was let you be happy with someone else."

She shook her head, swinging her hips softly in his arms. "I don’t think I even knew what happy meant back then. Not like I do now. Not like I am with you."

Ted went quiet. Very quiet. She could see the cogs turn. It was that particular frown.

"But only when it’s the two of us?" His voice was almost broken.

She frowned, tilting her head. And then the penny dropped.

Shit. She’d been so caught up in her fear, so worried about what it meant for them to be out in the open for the first time that she’d missed what that did to him. It had only fueled his insecurities.

"No. Ted, I’m always happy with you. I’m so happy it scares the bejesus out of me. This is new for me. And I'm so scared, Ted. Not of failing. Of succeeding for a while and then losing it all anyway. Because something always ends up going wrong in life. And then I don't just lose you. I lose everything. Our friendship. Our partnership. Richmond. The life we've built."

His eyes softened. She gently cupped his face with her hand and he leaned into the touch.

"I’m sorry, Ted. I've been so busy protecting us from the outside world that I made you think I was protecting myself from you."

"I would understand, though." He smiled—a wry one, a bit crooked. A bit pained. "I wake up every morning and wonder how someone like me gets to be with someone like you. It’s hard to believe you’d choose this."

She tilted her head back, taking him in more fully. 

"Nonsense, Ted. Why would you—? You’re— You’re everything. And if needed, I’ll believe in this for the both of us until you believe too."

He smiled. A proper one this time. 

"Hey, you’re takin’ a page of my book?"

"I’ve been devouring the book, Ted. And I’ll take all the sequels."

He ran his hand up and down her back.

"Good. Cause you’re stuck with me. No matter what. There’s no ending in which you lose me."

"You can’t promise that."

"No. But I can promise I’ll try. That’s all any of us can do. An’ if I close my eyes." He did just that, for show. "I cannot even imagine a life without you."

She placed her lips on his while he still had his eyes closed. He smiled into her lips, kissed her back.

"There’s nobody else I’d rather do messy with than you, Ted." 

"Good. A work in prog-mess together."

The buzz of the alcohol and the heat of the room started to make them sleepy. They decided to Uber back home, no need to sober up before driving. 

Ted went into the guest room, got their coats. When he walked back into the living room, he saw Rebecca standing, beaming at him. Her hand was extended for him to take.

He was sure he looked like a cocker spaniel making large soulful eyes at his owner.

He closed the distance between them, taking her hand.

"Ready to go?"

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes traveled up, up, up. His followed. There it was.

Mistletoe.

A few players noticed and stood around them, oooing, whistling, hollering.

Ted chuckled, his chest warming. Just when he thought he couldn’t love her more, she showed him it was possible. His life got better with her. Every single day. 

"A peck on the cheek doesn’t count!" someone called, he guessed Keeley.

She put one hand on his neck, the other on his chest. Stepped in closer. And kissed him softly, lovingly, for everyone to see. 

The kiss tasted like a confession. Like a proposal. I choose you.

He cupped her face, deepening the kiss just enough. 

There were more cheers. And when she leaned away, her laughter filled his heart and her sparkling eyes melted it.

They walked hand in hand to the car. 

This time, there was no snow. Nothing was muffled. Everything was clear.

And this year, she was driving home with the right man.

In the car, she didn’t look in the rearview mirror. She didn’t look straight ahead. 

No, she looked at Ted and their joined hands. At the life they were choosing together.

"Same time next year?" she whispered.

"Every year," he promised.