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He sucks in a breath. “I want to.” He holds his finger up. “Or at least, I’d like to come to your first match of the season. I reserve the right to change my mind after that.”
“Probably not the first match.”
“Why not?”
“We’re playing Newcastle Falcons at Kingston Park.”
Wren gives me a blank stare.
“In Newcastle. We travel to away games as a team by coach.”
“Oh.”
“Our second game is at home against Saracens.”
Wren grins. “Then I’ll come to your second game and reserve the right to change my mind after that.”
I chuckle. “Of course.” I kiss the top of his head. “I’d love you to come and watch me play.”
Savannah, who was walking past us with purpose, makes an abrupt turn and stops in front of us. “Did I hear right? You’re coming to the first home game of the season, Wren?”
Wren glances at me. “I guess so.”
“You can sit with me.” She gestures at the garden. “Us. It’s much more fun going together.”
“Us?” Wren asks.
“The rugby widows.” Savannah winks at him. “It’s settled. Don’t worry about a ticket. I’ll sort that. Meet us outside the stadium an hour before the match starts.”
Wren’s eyes bug. “An hour?”
“Of course. We’ll soak up the atmosphere and have a good chat first. I’ve got to go. Talk later.”
Wren stares at Savannah as she strides down the garden. “What just happened?”
I chuckle. “You made a friend.”
“I feel more like a stray puppy who got adopted.” He frowns. “Your parents suggested I could sit with them at home games. Will they be disappointed?”
“Nah. Don’t worry about them. Unless you’d rather sit with them, in which case Savannah will understand.”
Wren shrugs. “It would be good to make friends with rugby people.” Panic flits through his eyes. “Not that Savannah is a rugby person.”
“She is, kind of.” I hug him. “So are you now.”
He cocks his head. “A rugby widow?”
I laugh. “On match days, yes. But not the rest of the time. Then I’m all yours.”
Wren’s smile lights up the whole garden. No, more than that. It lights up my entire life. “Come on,” I say before I get the urge to take his hand and drag him home. “I’ll introduce you to a few more of the guys.”
“I’m not going to remember all their names,” Wren warns.
“And yet I bet you remember every book category in the British Library.”
“Of course.”
I laugh. “I love you, Wren.”
