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“Her boyfriend’s name,” Liam adds with a smirk. “But you’re right. Who would have thought?”
I shift in my seat, forcing a big smile. “I know. I wouldn’t have ever dreamt of it.” Now, I can’t imagine my life any other way. Except when the charade is over, everything is going to change. Because the only time I’ll see Wade will be on my living room TV. My heart twists at the thought. Even if I have grown to enjoy the game now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch a single match. At least I’ll have a good excuse.
Most of the wives finally arrive, and I wave at them from afar. No need to interact with them any more than I have to.
When the match begins, I’m on the edge of my seat, biting my fingernails. The Regents have a lot of opportunities to score, but Bayern Munich’s goalie isn’t having it. I spend most of the first half standing up, hoping to jump for joy when my team scores, but they don’t. By the time the referee whistles the end of the first half, I’m slouching on my seat, heart pounding in frustration.
“Don’t worry, pumpkin. They’ll make it through,” Dad says, squeezing my knee.
Liam leans forward with an elbow on his knee to see past my dad. “Yeah, Chubs. It was a good first half, actually. They didn’t concede any goals.”
“But they didn’t score, either.”
“They had plenty of chances,” Dad says. “Football is all about patience. All their efforts will pay off. Look at Bayern—they had a lot less action. Their defence is a strainer tonight.”
“Yeah,” I groan. Glancing around, I notice the other wives and girlfriends aren’t nearly as distraught as I am. They’re eating and drinking, throwing their heads back in laughter without a care in the world. Maybe after a while, the whole thing gets boring. They probably don’t care if they win or lose anymore.
The second half goes a lot better for our boys in blue. My dad was right. In the heat of the grueling match, their work finally pays off. The referee awards the London Regents a corner kick. Apparently, the team receives the extra scoring op when they shoot at the goal and miss, sending the ball flying outside the pitch, but either a defender or the goalkeeper touched it before it went out.
The corner kick is shot from the corner of the pitch next to the goal, and Wade is the one kicking. All the other players are in the penalty box, waiting for Wade’s pass. He sends the ball flying with his left foot. It hurtles toward one of his teammates’ heads, who then punts it into the goal. Every Regents supporter jumps for joy, including the three of us. My face hurts from smiling so hard as I watch the boys celebrate on the pitch. Andrea was the scorer, and all his teammates are jumping on his shoulders.
The rest of the second half is fraught with tension. If the opposing team scores, we’re back to square one. If the game ends in a draw, they’ll continue into overtime, which features two fifteen-minute periods with a five-minute break in between. And if there’s still a tie, the game will end with a penalty shoot-out. I pray we won’t have to go through that. I’m not sure my heart can take it.
The last ten minutes of the match have me on the edge of my seat. I can’t even look. Holding my giant foam finger in front of my eyes, I only take a peek when the crowd begins to cheer. Bayern is relentless, and the team is fired up until the last second. They multiply their attempts at a goal, and at this point, I’m praying for the game to be over.
The referee blows his whistle, and the crowd erupts.
“We won!” Liam shrieks, springing to his feet. I do the same, wrapping my dad in my arms as I jump in place.
The Regents’ supporters are a vocal bunch, chanting the anthem in unison over the loud music blasting from the speakers. My dad and Liam sing along, and I’m surprised I even know the words. The smell of sweaty bodies mingles with the bitter tang of beer and the aroma of fried food, but there is no other place I’d rather be. Because my man is going to the Champions League finals!
Half an hour later, we’re down on the pitch. The emotions I have bottled up inside are so intense, I could run a lap around the field to free my joy.
Instead, I leap into Wade’s arms. “That was so amazing! I can’t believe we’re going to the finals!”
Wade catches me and hauls me off my feet. Our chests collide, and it feels like we’re two puzzle pieces fitting together. I lace my arms around his neck while his rest on my lower back. Then, his lips are on mine, pressing hard. I close my eyes and get lost in the kiss. It feels different, somehow. This time, it’s not just for show, at least for me. And even though I know I’m going to regret it later, I indulge in the fantasy. This is the first time we’ve kissed for this long. No tongues, but still. The moment is so sweet, I never want it to end.
When his grip on my back relaxes, I want to hug him tighter, beg him not to let me go. But the fantasy is over, and I’m forced to go back to reality.
My dad clears his throat in a low rumble, and Wade and I break apart. My chest is heaving, rattling with every beat of my pounding heart.
My brother and dad congratulate Wade, and he introduces them to the other players on the pitch. The two megafans are over the moon. As for me, I’m still about to pass out from that kiss. I haven’t said a word since that moment. All I can do is watch from afar.
“Thank you for coming,” Wade says, circling back to me. His laser eyes hone in on me as he pushes one of my loose curls to the side. I shiver at the gesture.
“Of course,” I say, tilting my head down to hide my blush. “It was an intense match.”
“Will you come to the finals?”
“Absolutely.” When I realise I’m wringing my hands, I shove them into my back pockets. “I promised I would. I don’t want to miss the big win.”
“We’ll see.” His eyes are twinkling with glee. “I also wanted to ask you something. You already know my brother is leaving next week. So, he and his wife invited us to a family barbecue they’re hosting this Sunday. Since the day he came back to London, they’ve been badgering me to bring you ‘round, but I’m running out of excuses. And since he’s leaving—”
“I’d love to come,” I say in a heartbeat.
His eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yeah. You came to my family meal, so I don’t mind returning the favour.”
