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Unsurprisingly, Archie’s team trounces mine 4-1, with our single goal being scored by Mia.
“That was a great goal,” I tell her once we’ve called it a day.
She sighs. “Yeah, but we still lost.”
“You can’t win them all,” I say with a shrug. “And as long as you’re putting in the best effort you can, you can be happy with that.”
“Is that what you said when you lost the FA Cup last year?” she asks sceptically.
I wince and hold a hand to my chest. “Ouch.”
She grins at my reaction, and I’m glad to have brightened her mood a little, even at my own expense.
“You want to play professionally?” I ask her.
She nods eagerly. “I want to win the World Cup.”
“Well, you’re going to have to work hard,” I tell her. “If you ever want to come over to Croydon and have a kick with lads, let me know.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
I nod. “Courtney can bring you next time Keegan comes to the stadium,” I suggest, thinking it might be better if Mia’s Pride-obsessed mother steers clear.?
“Look, Dad! Archie Milligan signed my ball,” Keegan gushes, rushing up to me and shoving his football up in my face so I can see the scrawl of Sharpie that’s been freshly added.
I smile affectionately at my son. “You can just call him Archie, you know. You don’t have to say his full name every time.”
“But he’sArchie Milligan,” Keegan says, awe in his voice.
I just shake my head wryly and give him a nudge in the back. “Come on, say ‘bye’ to Mia. Everyone should be getting home before it gets dark.”
The kids all start to disperse, and I see a few adults approaching from the side of the park where there are a bunch of picnic tables and benches. No doubt they were waiting around, keeping their distance while also keeping the kids in view. And, of course, there on the street is a news van. I don’t see any camera crews about, but with how sophisticated the cameras are these days they probably wouldn’t even need to leave the van to get some decent footage.
Keegan and I start walking across the park towards home, which is fortunately in the opposite direction to the news van.
“Can we have breakfast for dinner?” he asks eagerly.
I shrug. “Sure, why not?” Serving up some eggs, sausages, and baked beans is a hell of a lot easier than some of his other frequent dinner requests.
“Can Archie Milligan have dinner with us?”
“I’m not sure Archie wants baked beans for dinner. Besides—”
“I love baked beans,” Archie pipes up from just behind me, making me jolt in surprise. I actually thought he’d already left while I was talking to Mia; I kind of figured that was the only reason his new barnacle, that is my son managed to come loose and make his way over to me again.?
“Where the bloody hell did you come from?” I demand, spinning around to face him.
He holds his hands up to profess his innocence. “I had to run and grab my jumper from that table I left it on. Wasn’t going to leave this beauty behind. Besides, it’s getting chilly.”
I give him a once-over, noting the lime green Calvin Klein hoodie. It has gold stitching, with a matching sparkly gold CK logo stretching over one of his well-defined pecs. And it perfectly complements his white, green, and gold Adidas trainers. And, like all his clothes, it seems to be at least a size too small so it does nothing to hide any of his muscles.
I give myself a mental slap and tear my gaze away; bloody hell, I really shouldn’t be noticing how well the colour brings out the flecks of green in his hazel eyes.
“Archie Milligan, do you want to come have dinner with us?” Keegan asks.
Archie chuckles. “Archie’s fine. And, yeah, if your dad doesn’t mind, that’d be great. I’m starving.”
I shrug. “Alright, but don’t be expecting anything gourmet.”
