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  Vi pulls her into a tight hug, but Rocky’s more interested in marvelling over her mummy’s pretty dress and hair. She tugs on the white veil laying over top of Vi’s long blonde curls. “Mummy pretty,” she says, her eyes full of wonder.

  “Adrienne pretty,” Vi croaks, sniffling back her tears. She leans down to two-year-old Marisa who has her chubby arms wrapped around her mummy’s legs. “Marisa pretty, too,” Vi adds with a smile and tugs on one of Marisa’s red curls.

  Dad and I make eye contact and exchange a meaningful look of respect. He gives me a silent nod of approval that would have grated on my nerves less than forty-eight hours ago.

  Now, it brings me peace.

  Dad looks at Vi as she stands up straight and fixes the strap on Rocky’s dress. “Are you ready, Vi, my darling?” he asks, his voice deep and full of emotion.

  Vi nods and turns to me. “Completely ready.”

  Leslie squats down next to her daughter, fussing over her dress as she says, “Okay, Marisa, you’re first. Do it just like we practiced.” Leslie hands Marisa a tiny basket of pink flower petals.

  Dad nods at them and pushes the double doors open to reveal our family all standing in the sand, lining the entire aisle and staring at us with big smiles on their faces.

  On the right is Hayden’s brother, Theo, and their parents, Winifred and Richard. On the left are my three brothers, their partners, and Sloan, who’s standing closest to the door and is dressed in a stunning long, black dress. She looks every bit as beautiful as she always does.

  At the end of the aisle is a large wooden archway draped in a waterfall of pink flowers. Beneath it is the pastor, Hayden, and his sister, Daphney, who has an acoustic guitar strapped to her chest.

  Leslie gives Daphney a nod and she begins playing the Sleeping At Last cover of “500 Miles.” Hayden’s head turns from the ocean, and his eyes instantly land on Vi, who still has Rocky in her arms.

  His smile falls.

  He doesn’t look happy.

  He doesn’t look sad.

  He doesn’t look angry.

  He’s overcome.

  Vi’s shoulders shake with silent sobs as Daphney begins to sing. She squeezes Rocky to her chest and points down the aisle. “Look, Rocky Doll. There’s your daddy.”

  “Daddy.” Rocky opens and closes her fingers in a wave, and the look exchanged between their little family seems private and personal, but we’re all here to witness it. To witness their connection. Their love.

  Their moment in time.

  “Go see your Unky Hayden, Marisa,” Leslie coos quietly and urges her daughter down the aisle.

  Everyone’s eyes are diverted to the adorable little redhead in a fluffy pink tutu dress. Marisa’s eyes are wide and wary on all the people looking down at her, but she smiles a big smile the second she spots Hayden. Now in a hurry, she tosses her basket of flowers and makes a mad dash down the sandy beach aisle, tripping once and getting a face full of sand. Several people step out to help her, but Marisa shakes them off, not the least bit bothered as she pauses to spit some sand out of her mouth. She resumes her toddler run all the way to her uncle who’s squatting down with wide open arms.

  Hayden scoops up a giggling Marisa who’s still picking at sand on her tongue, and everyone laughs at the tender connection between Hayden and his niece. He pulls his pocket square out of his suit jacket and dabs at her lips as she croaks out a loud, “Yucky.”

  Theo reaches out to take Marisa from Hayden, and Hayden resumes his stoic stance, smiling big and staring back at Vi.

  “Ready, Rocky Doll?” Dad asks, holding his arms out to her.

  “Papa!” she sings happily and falls out of Vi’s arms and into Dad’s.

  Vi wraps her hand around my arm and takes her flowers back. Then, she takes a deep breath, bracing herself to watch her daughter be carried down the aisle.

  About midway, Dad stops walking and lowers Rocky until her little bare feet touch the sand. Her chubby fingers hold onto his hands as he walks her a few steps before pulling one hand away. We all take a collective breath when Rocky releases his other hand and walks stiltedly by herself for several steps.

  Vi sobs beside me as she watches Hayden rush over and crouch down in front of Rocky, holding his hands out wide. Rocky nearly falls but manages to straighten herself and resumes her walk right into an openly crying Hayden’s arms.

  “Oh my God,” Vi exclaims, looking at me with red, tear-soaked eyes. “She just walked!”

  “Did you know she could do that?”

  She shakes her head. “Dad must have been practicing with her!”

  “Incredible,” I croak, tearing up myself and finding Sloan’s eyes watching me instead of Rocky. She’s covering her mouth and staring at me with wide, red-rimmed eyes full of so much love, it takes everything I have to not let go of my sister and go to her.

  Hayden kisses Rocky, then passes her off into my dad’s arms and swipes at his face to prepare for his bride.

  As soon as Daphney starts the chorus, I begin to usher Vi down the aisle to her groom. I look over at her with a wide smile, honoured more than I can explain to be the one giving her away today. We’ve been through so much together. Lots of hard times but far more happy.

  This moment—Vi’s moment of achieving her happily ever after—is momentous to all of us. She is our sister—the woman we would all do anything for—and all of her dreams are coming true today. It couldn’t be happening to a better person.

  When we reach Hayden, I release Vi’s arm to pull Hayden into a tight hug. We clap each other on the back, then I look into his eyes and give him a nod of approval. Hayden has a dark past, but he’s more than proven himself to be good enough for our sister. It’s a relief because I don’t think I could have given Vi away to anyone else. Before I walk away, Vi surprises me with a wrenching hug around my neck.

  “Thank you, Gareth.”

  I half smile down at her. “Thank you, Vi.”

  We nod at each other and the pastor begins the ceremony. I step away and join Sloan in the back. My entire body aches for hers. My heart, my soul, my hands. Our fingers thread together as we listen to Hayden and Vi recite their vows to each other and make a collective wish as the time hits 11:11 on the nose—a time once only special to Hayden but now equally as special to Vi. They honour Hayden’s deceased sister, Marisa, and our mum with a single white rose that they release out into the ocean while Daphney plays the Sleeping At Last cover of “As Long as You Love Me.”

  By the end of the service, my emotions have been raked over the coals. The overwhelming joy is too much for one person to handle. Vi’s wedding is like a happy ending the entire Harris family has waited long enough for.

  THE NEXT MORNING, SLOAN AND I leave Cape Verde bright and early so I can workout at home a couple times before training starts back up with the team. Winter break is over and I need to do everything I can to prep for our match against West Ham United next Saturday.

  The flight is longer on the way home. Time ticks by slowly as Sloan lies stretched out across my lap, sound asleep and perfectly beautiful. An ominous feeling grows inside my gut the closer and closer we get to Manchester.

  Being in love on holiday is easy. Being in love in the real world will take some effort. What will we look like back in the real world? Will Sloan go back to not seeing me when she has Sophia? Am I going to meet Sophia properly sometime soon? Does Sloan have a timeline in mind for when I get to become a part of both of their lives?

  I’m trying hard to think with my heart like my mother wished for me, but my head is grappling for a goal right now and it’s two-footed.

  When it’s finally time to land, Sloan sits up to slide her seatbelt back on and I can tell she feels it, too. The fear that things will be different.

  “You have a couple of days before Sophia comes home. Do you want to stay at my house?” I ask, my voice low as we climb into the vehicle that’s waiting for us on the tarmac.

  Sloan shifts nervously. “Is yo
ur home…safe?”

  My brow furrows as I open the door for her and watch her step into the vehicle. “Yes, it’s safe. But if you’re not comfortable there, we can stay at yours.”

  Her face is pensive when she asks, “What about the press?”

  I shrug my shoulders dismissively, then slide in next to her, tossing my hand on the back of the bench so I can turn toward her. “My agent emailed while we were away and said things have died down. We should be okay as long as we’re not walking around in public together.”

  “I still don’t think I’m ready to go back to your house, so mine would be best,” she replies, pulling her lip into her mouth and staring out the window, her legs angling away from me instead of toward me.

  I’m a defensive player, so I’m good at reading body language. Whatever’s happening right now isn’t good. The driver starts the car and I direct him to Sloan’s address.

  Once we’ve ridden in silence for a few minutes, I ask, “What is it, Sloan? Is it the house or us?”

  She inhales deeply and looks over at me. “I need to talk to Callum.”

  I stiffen at the mention of his name. “About what?”

  “About us.”

  “Why is it any of his business?”

  “Because I need to be proactive and control the message.”

  “What bloody message, Sloan? I love you and you love me. Why would he give a toss? He’s the idiot who let you go.”

  “I know, but he and his mother are very controlling, Gareth. You don’t know them like I do. Horrible as she might be, Margaret loves Sophia dearly. I have to be careful that they don’t find out about us before I tell them. They’ll turn this into something unseemly.”

  My brow furrows. “You mean because I’m a professional footballer?”

  Sloan shrugs. “They will dig up everything they can on you, I’m sure.”

  “So let them!” I exclaim with a bark. “Sloan, I don’t have a nasty past. Compared to my brothers, I’m the fucking pope.”

  “Didn’t you assault your sister’s ex-boyfriend?” she asks, her eyes not leaving mine.

  My teeth could crack I’m clenching them so hard. “He deserved it.”

  “I’m not judging, Gareth, but they will,” she replies, wringing her hands in her lap and turning to face the window again. “And they will see the press about the break-in and attack. It will all come out.”

  I huff out an annoyed laugh. “So what? This is over before it’s begun?”

  Sloan’s head snaps to me. “No! Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’re acting as if I’m a burden to you.”

  “I am not! I’m just telling you I need to be in control of this situation. That’s all. Just fucking be there for me and stop being so intense about everything!”

  Her tone brings me up short. I sit back and take in a few deep breaths to calm my anger. She’s right. I know she’s right. But I hate that she has this whole other part to her life that I don’t have a say in.

  I slide across the bench and pull Sloan onto my lap, my hands wrapping around her jaw so she has to look at me. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, pushing her hair back from her face and staring right into her eyes. “I’m not used to this.”

  “Used to what?” she asks quietly, staring back at me with sad eyes.

  I shrug half-heartedly. “Not controlling conflicts I guess.”

  She looks at me with a “come on, be serious” expression, then rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “One night with a little power and it goes straight to your head.”

  In one quick shot, I pull her down and assault her sides with my fingers. She squirms and giggles and begs me to stop. The whole feeling of her laughing beneath me is fantastic. She looks young and carefree, as she should.

  Once I stop, she sits back up on my lap and I slowly rub my hands on her legs. “In my family, I am in control a lot. I solve problems, I run interference. I’m used to fixing things. This is going to take some getting used to for me.”

  Sloan chews her lip thoughtfully for a minute, then says, “I get it. And I’m not going to fight you forever, Gareth. I want to be in a partnership. An equal give and take. I want someone to share my struggles and joys with because I’ve never had that. But we’re still so new and I have to handle this how I see fit. What if this doesn’t work out?”

  “It’s going to work out,” I reply, running my hands up and down her arms soothingly. “I’m in love with you, Sloan.”

  “You don’t know everything about me. You might hate my quirks.”

  “I love your quirks.”

  She rolls her eyes and groans, “You don’t even know my quirks.”

  My jaw tightens as I shoot her a moody glower. With a deep breath, I state, “I know that you hate tea but love teacups. I know that you snore if you’ve had a really good orgasm before bed. I know that you aren’t fulfilled as a personal stylist, and I’ll do everything in my power to help you see your potential for more because you’re bloody brilliant at making suits. I know you miss the sense of family but not necessarily your family.

  “And I know that you’ll never love me more than you love Sophia, and I think it’s incredible that you’re always a mum first. The truth is, I think that’s what drew me to you the second I met you. You have this selflessness about you that I find really fucking attractive.

  “And I know why you’re so protective of Sophia and why being in a relationship with me where you had all the control was so necessary. But I think as much as you crave that control, you crave someone who will push back as well. Someone to challenge you on things and teach you how to live a little again.

  “But mostly, I know that if I can connect with Sophia someday in a meaningful way, then it will be the moment I know you’re mine forever and I can marry you.”

  “What?” Sloan gasps. Her jaw drops and she covers her mouth with her hands. “Gareth, what did you just say?”

  I raise my chin. “You heard me, Sloan. I’ve known you for years now, and these aren’t new feelings. These are dormant feelings that I’m tired of holding back.”

  “You’re crazy,” she replies, her jaw still dropped.

  “I’m crazy about you,” I reply and bring her down to my face. “I’m not rushing you with this Sophia thing. Do what you think is best. But please know that I’m here, Sloan. And I’m all fucking in.”

  Suddenly, my mobile vibrates in my jeans pocket. Begrudgingly, I move to pull it out and see that it’s a London area code that I don’t recognise. I shoot Sloan an apologetic look, but she’s still reeling from what I’ve just said, so I don’t imagine she’ll notice I’ve taken a call.

  I swipe the green button and answer. “Hello?”

  “Harris, this is Gary Austin, the England Football Team manager.”

  “Yes, hello, Coach,” I reply quickly and help a mannequin version of Sloan back down onto the seat. “What can I do for you?”

  “Look, I’m not going to dance around this because I’m sure it’s no surprise to you considering the media won’t shut up about it,” he grumbles in an annoyed tone. “I’m interested in inviting you and your three brothers to play for England at the World Cup.”

  My chest instantly tightens. I’ve received calls like this before for various Euro cups and tournaments, and it’s always an honour. But I thought it was just a rumour that my brothers might all be invited as well. This is next level success for our entire family.

  I clear my throat and do my best to sound calm when I reply, “Thank you for your consideration. It’s truly an honour, sir.”

  “Right. I haven’t completely made up my mind about who I’m recruiting, but I’ve chosen to announce some early squad members to try to get the press off my bleedin’ back. So I’m inviting you and your brothers to a behind-closed-doors training camp I’m putting on next month at Cobham Training Centre. The National Football Centre grass is getting reworked, so this centre is the best I can do during my limited time slot.”

  “Oh, sur
e, sure, Chelsea’s club training grounds. I can be there, sir,” I reply, recalling the game I played against Chelsea a few months back. Shutting down Vince Sinclair this year was a career highlight for me, so hopefully I can take some of that energy and apply it to this camp.

  “There will be a press conference at the end of the camp, announcing who I select for the team. You just recovered from a concussion, yes?”

  “Yes, Coach, but I’m fine.”

  “Are you fine enough to play at top-level in a month? I’ll be organising a secret friendly match during the camp, and I need everyone playing at the top of their game.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready,” I reply, my tone firm.

  “Ghastly what happened to you and that woman you had with you, son. I’m very sorry to hear of it.”

  My jaw tightens. “Thank you.”

  “All right then, my assistant will send you the details. Talk soon.”

  “Bye,” I reply, still in shock as the phone hangs up.

  “Who was that?” Sloan asks, her eyes finally focusing again.

  “That was the manager of the England team asking me and my brothers to train with him next month at a camp.”

  “Is that good?” Sloan asks, her brow furrowing curiously. “Is it like a try-out?”

  “Of sorts. And, yeah, it’s good.”

  “Huh,” Sloan replies, then shakes her head. “What a day.”

  I chuckle softly and pull her under my arm to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “What a year.”

  Sloan remains quiet for several minutes before looking up at me and asking, “Does it bother you that I know nothing about soccer?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No, but it does bother me that you don’t call it football. What the bloody hell do I have to do to get you to change that?”

  She smiles a naughty, shy smile. “I can think of a few things.”

  MY HANDS CLENCH TIGHTLY AROUND the wheel as I drive out to the Lake District to pick up Sophia. Normally, the anticipation of Sophia running into my arms and being reunited is the best. But this Sunday, my belly is full of anxiety as I ponder what I’m going to say to Margaret and Callum about Gareth. And I have to say something.