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He laughed.
“—You’re still his dad. It’s important that he sees that we can have a healthy relationship even if we aren’t together. The only person who gets hurt if we don’t get along is Leo.”
Chris squeezed my hand. “You’re right. You always are. We should get back before that game finishes, and he wonders where we are.”
“I agree.” I pulled my hand from his and got up. He did the same, and I hugged him. He hesitated for a second before he hugged me back, then I stepped away with a smile. “Whatever you do, do not let him talk you into pizza. He had it on Thursday.”
“Oops. We had takeout last night.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did.”
Chris laughed, following me back toward the games. “London?”
“Yeah?”
“I really do hope your date goes well tonight.”
I smiled, my eyes drifting toward Ollie who was shouting instructions from the sidelines. “Me, too.”
***
I was nervous. Really nervous. It’d literally been years since I’d been on a proper date, and this was a proper date.
Italian food.
I knew the restaurant was dressy, but my dressy wardrobe was seriously lacking. Piper had video called me and we’d eventually decided on a simple black dress and heels, but I hadn’t even left the house yet and my feet already hurt.
Ugh.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I was sitting nervously by the window, waiting for Ollie to show up. The problem was that I didn’t know what his car was. I’d never seen his car, so for all I knew, a kidnapper could pull up and I’d think it was him.
My brain needed to shut off.
Oliver needed to arrive so I’d stop panicking and losing my mind.
In theory.
It was a good theory.
There was no sign of him yet, probably because there was fifteen minutes until he said he’d come, so I dragged my ass away from the window and to my laptop on the sofa.
I’d been quietly taking notes all day at the tournament as a special report for the paper. Chris had actually been the one to suggest it after our little heart-to-heart, and he’d helped me remember some of the goings on of the first match. Leo’s team had lost their semi-final match against a much more established team than they were, but they’d done what they needed to.
They had four matches with a clean sheet.
In a row.
I wondered if Ollie had told Leo the truth about the potential soccer team.
Probably not because six-year-old boys couldn’t keep secrets to save their lives, but I had to wonder.
I scrolled back to the top of the article I’d drafted and read through. Although I didn’t detail the final since our team wasn’t in it, I did include the team that had won and offered them a congratulations from everyone in White Peak.
Even Leo hadn’t been too upset that he’d let the winning goal in. He’d had such an amazing time that he was on cloud nine, and by the time he left with his dad, I knew in my heart that Christopher was going to do everything he could to move back here.
And you know what? That did make me happy. I wanted him and Leo to have a good relationship. It was so important to me that they got to spend time together more than once in a blue moon.
A car engine rumbled outside my house, and I hit CTRL-S on the laptop to save my document, then went to look. It was a black car I didn’t recognize, but I knew it was Ollie the moment the door opened.
The evening sun glinted off his dark auburn hair, and the light blue of his button-down shirt played off his pale skin perfectly.
I’d never dated a redhead.
He knocked at the door. I quickly put my phone in my purse, smoothed out my dress, and approached it to open it.
“Bloody hell,” he said in a low voice. “You look amazing.”
I blushed. Why was he always making me blush? “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Thanks. I washed my hair.” He winked and held out his arm. “Shall we go?”
Laughing, I followed him out, pausing only to lock the door behind me and tuck my keys safely in my purse. Ollie opened the car door for me like the gentleman I already knew he was, and I slid in onto the smooth leather seats that my legs were absolutely going to be stuck to in five minutes.
Awesome.
Nothing like bare legs on leather to make your date think you were farting.
“Heads up,” I said when he sat down. “My legs are going to stick to this seat, so if you hear a fart-like noise, mind your own business.”
“Trying to decide if that’s genuine or if you need to do that and you’re making excuses,” he admitted.
“Well, if the second option happens, mind your own business there, too.”
