Page 1 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

CHAPTER 1

THE WEDDING INVITATION

Barbara

The atmosphere in London changes radically after the rain. It’s as if the whole city is being cleansed, as if the weight of the day is washed away with every drop soaking the streets.

When I get out of the car and close the door, I take a deep breath and let the cool afternoon air clear my head and sharpen my senses. We had a grueling practice today. It was a good day for the team, and we got one of our star players back. Seeing her return to the field and enjoy the game again reminds me why I chose this life. Why, despite everything, I said yes and agreed to work here.

“I swear, if she runs like that again on Saturday, I’m going to start thinking we signed an Olympic athlete instead of a forward,” Ingrid says beside me as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder.

Her voice sounds cheerful, and it’s no wonder. She’s excited. We only have a few weeks left before the season ends, and she can barely contain that contagious smile as we walk toward the front door. We’ve been together for a few months now, and every time I look at her, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, with the right person, living the most incredible moment of my professional career.

“Irina has always been a machine on the field,” I reply, though I know full well I’m only saying it to tease her a little and watch her frown. “She’s just gotten back into the shape she was in before the injury—that’s all.”

“Her form?” Ingrid turns to me with a smile lighting up her eyes. “Three weeks ago, she couldn’t finish her sprints without running out of breath and gasping like she’d run a whole marathon.”

“Three weeks with us,” I point out, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “Don’t forget that little detail. That changes everything.”

“You’re right, we’ve had a lot to do with her recovery, yes.”

Ingrid and I became coworkers after I accepted a position as a physical therapist on West Ham Women’s medical staff and left Spain. It was sudden and necessary, and she became my first connection—and also my support—during those first few months.

I walk over to the mailbox beside the door and pull out the small pile of envelopes that arrived throughout the day: bills, junk mail, a few letters from the club… the usual for any Monday afternoon.

We walk into the house, and the change in temperature from outside makes my muscles relax. I set my keys on the small console table in the entryway and slowly stretch my neck, feeling the accumulated fatigue at the base of it. These past few weeks, the atmosphere has been tense, and although I love this job, the truth is my body is already asking for a break.

Ingrid walks past me, takes off her jacket, and casually drapes it over the back of a chair.

“Despite everything, you can’t deny that I was unstoppable today,” she insists, pulling her blonde hair into a high ponytail. “That last sprint… I swear I pictured the rival coach’s face and everything.”

“He’s going to pass out, you’ll see,” I say, unable to stop a mocking laugh from escaping me.

“We’ll have to put the medical team on alert,” she remarks ironically, winking at me. “Just in case he faints and there’s no way to resume the game.”

I set the mail down on the living room table and drop the backpack slung over my shoulder beside the sofa. The sound of the leather hitting the wooden floor makes me realize that, finally, the day is over and now it’s just the two of us left in this refuge we’ve built together ever since I decided Ingrid was exactly what I needed to give meaning to a life that was slowly beginning to take shape.

“You know what we need today?” she asks from the kitchen while opening the fridge. “A pizza and one of those movies that makes you laugh nonstop.”

“A romantic comedy?” I ask curiously.

“Yeah, one of those where you know what’s going to happen from the third minute on, and yet you still can’t stop watching it,” she explains playfully.

“I thought you preferred action movies, with chases and explosions everywhere,” I comment as I slowly take off my jacket.

“It depends,” Ingrid replies, poking her head out of the kitchen with a smile curving her lips. “If the week goes well, I feel like watching something light that lets me zone out without thinking. If it goes badly and we lose the game, I need explosions to blow off all the anger I’m holding inside.”

I let out a laugh.

“Then we’ll look for a comedy. I’m sure we’ll find something in that endless catalog.”

I smile as I absentmindedly start sorting through the envelopes. My fingers move almost instinctively through bills and flyers until Ingrid appears behind me with a bottle of water in her hand and wraps her free arm around my waist.

“Anything interesting?”

“I highly doubt it, honestly,” I reply with a shrug.

She plants a kiss on my shoulder, leans against the back of the chair, and snatches the pile from my hands to look through it herself. I watch her out of the corner of my eye and can’t help thinking about how easy everything feels with her, how her presence balances my days even when work becomes too intense and the decisions too complicated. I suppose that’s why we connected so well from the start.