“You still sure about this?” Ted asks, looking up at her with a rueful smile on his face.

“Absolutely,” Rebecca says, meaning every word. She squeezes his hand and admits, lowering her voice, “And I won’t lie, it’ll be nice to have a buffer between Henry and Michelle at the house.”

Ted grimaces. “Yeah, things have been, uh, interesting during their visits.” He shakes his head a little, and says, “Although I suppose it’s too late for you to turn back now…Beard says you’ve moved my entire pantry over to your place.”

“Yes, if you don’t agree to come with me now, I’ll hold all of your appliances hostage, including that stand mixer you love so much,” Rebecca says, deadpan, and is rewarded with a delighted grin from Ted.

He looks good, she reassures herself. It’s a relief to see him in regular clothes again rather than the hospital gowns, to have him sitting on the edge of the bed rather than lying in it, to know that he’s being discharged today and he’ll be coming home with her, where she can look after him properly.

There’s another round of instructions and warnings from the doctors and the nurses, more pamphlets to be given and medications to be filled, but at last, at last Ted’s carefully easing himself into the backseat of Rebecca’s car, and then the driver’s starting the engine and they’re off.

As they’re leaving the carpark, Rebecca sighs, something unwinding inside of her. “Ted, do me a favor,” she says, leaning her head against the seat, looking at his profile. “Don’t ever come here again, okay?”

Ted turns to look at her, dimples peeking out. “What if I’m just visiting someone?” he teases.

Rebecca shakes her head. “No. You’ll just have to call. Have flowers and grapes delivered instead.”

Ted chuckles, and without thinking, Rebecca reaches out to take his hand, the same gesture she’s made a dozen times over in the past week, except now Ted’s in the backseat of her car instead of a hospital bed, and it’s…it feels different, somehow, even if the weight and warmth of his hand in hers is exactly the same.

But Ted doesn’t seem to think there’s anything strange in it, he squeezes her hand and doesn’t let go, and Rebecca manages to act normal throughout the short drive back to her house, discussing the gym and pool where Ted can start his rehab—”Gently,” she warns, and Ted immediately comes back with, “Oh, so I shouldn’t start training for a triathlon right away?”

But when the car stops in front of her house, Ted takes a minute before he moves to get out of the car. Rebecca hesitates as she climbs out, looking back at him and asking gently, “Ted?”

Ted blinks, seemingly coming back to himself. “Yeah, I’m here,” he promises, and gets out of the car.

Once they’re in through the front door, Rebecca hears the already-familiar clattering of Henry’s footsteps as he hurries down the stairs, and then Henry calls out joyfully, “Dad!” and he’s leaping into Ted’s outstretched arms.

“Hey buddy,” Ted says, wrapping Henry up in a fierce hug. He drops a kiss on top of Henry’s head, like he has every day since Henry arrived in London. “Where’s your mom?”

“Here,” Michelle says, appearing almost noiselessly from the direction of the kitchen. She’s smiling as she sees Ted, and it’s perhaps Rebecca’s imagination that there’s some strain to the smile.

Be kind, Rebecca reminds herself. Of course Michelle’s under a lot of strain now.

Henry stays glued to his father’s side as Michelle steps forward to quickly embrace Ted, dropping a kiss on his cheek. Rebecca sets her teeth against the urge to overanalyze every minute detail of their interactions, whether Michelle hesitated before going in for the kiss on the cheek, if Ted’s expression flickered for a moment when she did.

Not helpful, not helpful, not helpful.

“I was just going to show Ted his room,” Rebecca offers up.

“Sounds great,” Michelle says. “I was making lunch, I thought we could all have a meal together.”

“That sounds lovely,” Rebecca agrees.

“Thank you, Michelle, I sure appreciate that,” Ted says warmly.

The tension in Michelle’s shoulders eases, if only by a fraction, and her eyes get misty. “It’s good to see you out of that hospital bed,” she tells Ted, and disappears into the kitchen before he can reply.

Ted looks for a second as though he wants to follow her, but Rebecca lightly puts a hand on her arm. “Give her a second.” Ted bobs his head in agreement, and Rebecca asks, “Do you want to see where you’ll be staying?”

“Lead the way, Fay Wray,” Ted says.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Ted’s breathing so heavily before they’ve even reached the top of the stairs, how slowly he has to take it, but it’s like a punch to her gut. By the time they’re actually at his door, Ted’s leaning hard against Rebecca’s arm and Henry, hovering by his father’s shoulder, has gone so pale that his freckles stand out in stark relief.

“Just a few more steps,” Rebecca’s murmuring on auto-pilot, and Ted just nods, too winded to speak. Henry, bless him, rushes forward to open the door and once they’re safely inside, Ted immediately sinks down onto the edge of the bed, promising, his face flushed, “I’m all right, really.”

Rebecca would believe it more if he didn’t need to gasp for air between each word.

“Of course you are,” Rebecca says, and it’s an effort to keep her voice light, unconcerned. “We might think about having you eat your meals up here, however, at least for the first day or so.”

Ted’s head jerks up at that. “We most certainly do not,” he says, even though his breathing still isn’t at all steady.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Henry says quickly, his voice a little higher than normal still, and if his color is returning to normal, his eyes are still wide and panicked.

Rebecca gives Ted a meaningful look, and continues brightly, “You see? We’ll all eat up here for lunch today, like a sort of…indoor picnic.”

“In a bedroom?” Ted asks in disbelief, but then he looks at Henry, pauses, and says, “All right, yeah. We can…we can try that.”

Rebecca gives them both her brightest smile, and asks Henry to go and tell his mom of the slight change in plans. As they listen to him thundering down the stairs, Rebecca lets the smile fade, and goes to sit next to Ted.

“Here,” she says, opening the drawer from the nearby dresser, and quickly fitting a pulse oximeter onto Ted’s index finger. Ted blinks at her, then asks, “What, you have these just stashed around the place?”

“Yes,” Rebecca says. “I also carry one in my purse now.” Satisfied with the reading, Rebecca slips it back off his hand and sets it back in the drawer. “I wanted to get a blood pressure cuff too, but Keeley swore it’d be overkill. I still think we could…”

She finally catches sight of Ted’s expression, and sighs. “It would be overkill, wouldn’t it?”

“Just a little bit,” Ted says kindly. He looks to the open door where Henry had just left, and Rebecca can read his expression as though it’s a page from an open book.

“No one’s expecting you to immediately bounce back,” she tells him.

Ted lifts a shoulder. “Just hits different, your kid looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll drop dead at any moment.” Before Rebecca can reply to that, though with what, she has no idea, Ted shakes his head and says, “Never mind. I’m just grateful he’s here at all.”

Rebecca keeps quiet, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Ted smiles at her crookedly and squeezes her hand back, the warm pressure of it reassuring.

*

Lunch actually goes better than it has any right to. Michelle’s to thank for that, her smile bright and open throughout, even in the face of Ted’s withdrawal and Henry’s wariness. Henry sits on the bed next to his dad, with Michelle and Rebecca balancing their plates on their laps as they sit in the chairs hastily dragged into the room.

Over the plates of brown rice, grilled chicken, and steamed vegetables, Rebecca and Michelle keep the conversation flowing as best as they can, Michelle asking thoughtful questions about the state of the club, sympathizing about the team’s recent loss to Real Madrid in the Champions League.

“It’s disappointing, but we’re still in a good position to advance from the group,” Rebecca says. “I could’ve lived without seeing Dani Rojas scoring a goal against us, but that’s how it goes when you’re facing a former player of yours—they always seem to score against you.”

“Nice seeing the reunion between him and the other fellas, though,” Ted says. “Bunch of them went out to dinner afterwards, sent me some photos.”

“Dani said some very nice things about you in the press after the match too,” Michelle says, adding next, “At least I’m pretty sure he did, I did have to hit Google Translate for some of it.”

“I didn’t know you watched the match,” Ted says, poking at a piece of broccoli.

Michelle looks at him, her voice level as she says, “I follow the team, Ted, you know that.” Before the awkwardness can get worse, Michelle visibly chooses to let it go, smiling as she adds, “Though I will admit, getting up with Henry at 6:30 in the morning for your early games is a struggle sometimes.”

“I have to set two alarms,” Henry offers up.

“Well, Richmond appreciates your dedication,” Rebecca says, lifting her glass of water in a toast.

It’s satisfying to see that Ted’s cleaned his plate; he gives Michelle a smile as he thanks her for making lunch and says, “I figure I could make dinner tonight if—”

“No, you won’t,” Rebecca says immediately, and Ted leans back against the headboard, looking a little affronted.

“Of course I will,” he says. “You’re already putting me up here indefinitely, I can’t be lying around like some invalid and let y’all do all the work around here.”

Now it’s Rebecca’s turn to be affronted. Trust Ted Lasso to try and do housework the same day he gets released from the hospital. “You absolutely can lie here like an invalid, in fact I expect you to do just that.” As Ted opens his mouth to protest, Rebecca continues on smoothly, “I see no reason why we can’t have dinner up here together tonight.”

“Rebecca, I just spent a week in a hospital bed—”

“My point exactly,” Rebecca cuts in, and Ted’s eyes narrow a little at that.

“And I’m not looking to spend another week in bed, especially when I don’t need to,” he retorts.

“Hmm,” Rebecca says, taking a long sip of her water. She’s about to go into explicit detail about how she fully expects Ted to stay upstairs for dinner tonight, and likely for tomorrow as well, but then catches Michelle’s deliberately blank expression and refrains. For the moment. “We can work that out later. But I will be making dinner tonight. What does everyone think of pasta?”

“I like pasta,” Henry offers quickly, looking between her and his dad. “I can help make it…if that’s okay?” he asks, turning to Rebecca.

“Of course,” Rebecca says with a smile. “Truthfully I hate prepping the ingredients when I cook, so any assistance is much appreciated, trust me.”

Henry smiles and says, “Cool. We can use that brown rice pasta we picked up, right?”

“I wasn’t thinking of using anything else,” Rebecca says, and out of the corner of her eye, she swears she can see Ted wrinkle his nose, but when she looks at him directly, he’s smiling and saying brightly, “Buddy, that sounds great to me.”

*

Michelle and Henry go on a walk after lunch, and when they come back, Henry is scowling and Michelle looks exhausted. Henry immediately disappears, saying that he wants to see his dad, and when Michelle sinks into an armchair, Rebecca asks sympathetically, “Would you like some tea?”

“Oh,” Michelle says, looking mildly surprised. “I…yeah, actually, that would be great.”

They retreat to the kitchen where Rebecca starts filling up the kettle, over her shoulder she says, “How is Henry?”

“He’s fine,” Michelle starts, then laughs a little. “I don’t know why I’m saying that, it’s not true at all. He’s pissed at me, and he’s worried about his dad, and he keeps swearing he’s not going back to Kansas and I don’t even know where to begin with that—” She cuts herself off and says, “And I can’t imagine you were expecting to be responsible for a twelve-year-old boy out of the blue.”

“I will admit it was a surprise to run into him at the hospital,” Rebecca says, smiling ruefully. “But it’s not a hardship to have Henry here, truly. He’s a lovely kid, I’ve enjoyed his company.” She keeps her smile as she adds, “And it’s done wonders for Ted, having his son here with him.”

Michelle’s expression flickers, but she doesn’t respond to that. Instead she asks, folding her hands together on the kitchen island, “How is Ted doing? Really doing, I mean.”

“He’s doing well,” Rebecca says, pitching her voice to be as reassuring and as forthright as she can make it. “His doctors agree that he should make a full recovery, just so long as he follows the rehab plan, and I promise you he is absolutely going to, even if I have to crack the whip over his head myself.”

“You’ve talked to his doctors?” Michelle asks, an odd note in her voice.

“Yes,” Rebecca says, then—thinking she understands why Michelle is taken aback—rushes to add, “Only with Ted’s permission, of course, I wasn’t sneaking around behind his back.” She doesn’t bother with considering what she would have done if Ted hadn’t given his permission, the point is that he did, and therefore Rebecca isn’t going utterly mad with worrying over what she doesn’t know, or trying to bribe NHS doctors into violating Ted’s right to privacy.

“Huh,” Michelle says, obscurely.

“I won’t pretend his recovery is going to be easy,” Rebecca admits. “He’ll have to be on some of these new medications for the rest of his life, there will need to be major lifestyle changes…but he is going to get better, Michelle. I’m sure of it.”

“Of course he will,” Michelle says, and the stout belief in her voice is honestly quite validating. She pauses, looking down at her hands, before saying next, “I’m glad he has a support system out here. Honestly I was…I was almost prepared to see if he’d be willing to come back to Kansas, just to recover, I didn’t…I didn’t trust that he’d be taking care of himself the way he needed to, and I didn’t know if there was anyone here who he would even let take care of him, but…here you are.”

Rebecca feels every inch of her back stiffen at the very suggestion of Ted moving to Kansas, but that tension starts to ease—if only somewhat—at Michelle’s acknowledgement that Ted is better off here, with Rebecca, and with everyone else here who cares about him.

"I'd look after him whether he wanted to let me or not," Rebecca says. "After the scare I had—-" To her horror, her voice catches; Rebecca has to swallow twice before she can control herself enough to say, "I'm taking his recovery quite seriously, is what I meant."

"I know you are," Michelle agrees, her voice gentle and kind. She's such an obviously kind woman; what a well-matched pair she and Ted must have been, once upon a time.

*

Michelle leaves after dinner, taking Rebecca up on her offer of a car to get back to her hotel. Rebecca offers to leave Henry and Ted to their own devices for the evening, give them some father-and-son time on their own, but both of them insist she stick around with them and watch one of those never-ending superhero films. Henry is horrified to discover she hasn't kept up with the last few releases, and very carefully gives her the needed backstory so she can follow along.

It's a lovely evening, and that has nothing to do with the film she's watching and everything to do with the people Rebecca is watching it with. The plot of the film washes over her, and what lingers in her mind instead is the sight of Ted's bare feet on the bed, Henry tucked up against his side as they laugh together at one of the hero's quips right before she fights another CGI alien, Rebecca turning to watch them from her spot at the edge of the bed as much as she’s watching the screen in front of her.

Henry yawns through the credits, and Ted gently shepherds his son into agreeing to go to sleep. “Don’t forget to brush and floss, now,” he warns, and Henry rolls his eyes as he sing-songs, “Yes, Dad. Night, Rebecca,” he adds over his shoulder, and Rebecca smiles. “Goodnight, Henry.”

As Henry exits, Rebecca says, not without some regret, “Should probably head off to bed myself, let you get your rest.”

But Ted sits up a little, saying quickly, “Oh, hey, no—the night’s still young, you don’t have to run off just yet.” He looks a little abashed at his eagerness, but says, “Not like there’s a nurse around to chase you off because visiting hours are over.”

“No, I suppose not,” Rebecca agrees thoughtfully. “Another film? Something without CGI monsters, please.”

Ted gives her a crooked smile. “You know, I think I’ve got just the thing.” He pauses, looking at Rebecca, and adds, cautiously, “You know—if you need some back support, you can just lean up by this headboard like I’m doing.”

“Okay,” Rebecca says, after a brief pause. She’s been in and out of his room all day, had two meals with him, moved him and his son into her house, for Christ’s sake, and yet somehow this is what feels shockingly intimate, sitting next to him on the bed, side by side, their legs stretched out together.

Rebecca manages to tear her eyes away from Ted’s exposed ankles—looking oddly delicate below the cuffs of his sweatpants—and fix her gaze forward as the opening credits to The Philadelphia Story roll across the screen.

“Not that this movie isn’t a classic,” Ted whispers as they watch Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn spar on screen, “But I gotta say, every time I watch I keep hoping—”

“That she ends up with Jimmy Stewart instead?” Rebecca finishes, a smile curling on her lips. “I do the same thing.” She turns just in time to catch Ted’s pleased grin, how joyful he is that they agree on such a small thing.

“Right? I’m just saying, Jimmy’s the only one in this movie that seems to like her, as a person—”

“And their chemistry is just incredible,” Rebecca breathes out. “The scene later, when they’re dancing in the moonlight—every time I just want to shout at her to ditch the ex-husband and the wretched fiance, and go elope with that charming reporter.”

“Cary Grant’s not a bad consolation prize though,” Ted concedes.

“Hmm,” Rebecca says, not arguing, but adds, “I like him better in Bringing Up Baby.”

“Well, we’ll just have to watch that one sometime,” Ted offers, gently leaning in against her for a moment, and Rebecca shivers happily.

“I’m holding you to that, Lasso. Especially now I know where you live,” she teases, and Ted’s chuckles are the best thing she’s heard in hours.

He starts flagging by the time that Katharine and Jimmy are waltzing drunkenly in the moonlight, though, eyes falling closed despite his obvious efforts to stay awake, and when Rebecca catches him fretfully rubbing at his eyes for the second time, she hits pause with the remote and says, “Ted, you look exhausted. For heaven’s sake, get some rest—”

Ted shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t want to go to sleep yet.”

Rebecca frowns. “You want to be sleep-deprived?”

“I want—” Ted checks himself, shaking his head. “Never mind, it’s silly.”

“We’ve spent the last hour rooting for an eighty year-old film to magically change its ending, it can’t be any sillier than that,” Rebecca replies, and when Ted’s mouth unhappily twists, Rebecca turns to face him more fully, reaching out to touch his hand as she presses, “Ted…please tell me.”

Ted’s throat works, and for a moment, she’s genuinely afraid he won’t tell her, that he’ll plaster a smile over it and brave out whatever’s wrong on his own, and she’s already opening her mouth to argue…but then Ted closes his eyes, and admits, “In the hospital…there were people monitoring me every second, you know? All those machines, the nurses and doctors ready to fly in the second something went wrong. So I knew…I knew all I had to do was lie there, and do what they told me, and I…it would be okay.”

Rebecca holds herself still, waiting, Ted’s warm hand beneath her fingertips, and when Ted finally turns to face her, his eyes are wet and his expression is agonized. “The only reason I’m alive right now is because you were there when I collapsed,” he says, each word rough and raw, jagged and awful in Rebecca’s ears. “It was nothing but sheer luck that I thought of dropping off your biscuits then, and I’m grateful, I am, I just…I keep thinking the luck’s gonna run out.” He’s quiet, then says softly, as if it hurts to say out loud, “I keep thinking I’m going to have another heart attack when I’m asleep, but there won’t be anyone to catch it this time.”

“Ted,” Rebecca croaks out, and it’s not until Ted is turning to her with a stricken face that she realizes why her eyes are stinging.

“Sweetheart, no, don’t—” Ted says quickly, reaching out, and the thought that he is trying to comfort her about the very real possibility of him dying in his sleep is just—

“No, no,” Rebecca says, shaking her head, even as Ted’s gently rubbing her shoulders. “No, it’s fine, I can—” She stops, looking at him, and says slowly, “I can just stay here for tonight.”

It’s all so incredibly clear to her, but Ted is obviously baffled. “You…honey, I wasn’t asking you to monitor me, that’s not your job, there’s no way I’m letting you sleep all night in that chair—”

“Of course not, I’ll be sleeping in the bed with you,” Rebecca replies, without thinking, and Ted halts in his tracks, mouth hanging open. Worried he’ll turn her down, Rebecca barrels on, because it worked in convincing him to move in, it worked in convincing him to have Henry stay here, it can work for this too. “Look, I could hire a full-time nurse instead but this is far easier, plus let’s be honest, you wouldn’t let me hire the nurse even if I tried—”

“Rebecca—”

“And honestly, if I can stop you from dying on me once, I can damn well manage it again,” Rebecca winds up stubbornly, glaring at him, her face hot and her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Ted opens his mouth, pauses and closes it, before finally saying, “I feel like I should have an argument for that, but I honestly can’t think of one.”

“Because I’m right and you know it,” Rebecca says, lifting her chin up.

The crease between Ted’s eyebrows isn’t fading, as he says with real worry, “You don’t have to coddle me, you know that, right?”

“No,” Rebecca agrees evenly. “But I do intend to keep you safe and healthy, so it’s either this or I’m hiring a nurse to stand guard over you while you sleep.” At Ted’s choked, incredulous laughter, Rebecca demands, “Do you really think I wouldn’t do it?”

“Oh God, I know you would,” Ted groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Either that or buy your own damn heart monitors and hook me up to them every night.” He jerks his head up suddenly in alarm, saying quickly, “That was not a suggestion!”

“So we’ve agreed then,” Rebecca says. “The easiest and simplest solution is for me to stay here tonight.”

“Oh, holy Hannah,” Ted mutters, rubbing at his eyes, but that isn’t a no.

For all of Rebecca’s stubbornness and bravado, it still takes an effort for her to re-enter Ted’s bedroom in her pajamas, her face scrubbed bare of makeup and shining from her nighttime moisturizer. Ted’s already under the sheets, sitting up against the pillow, hands folded neatly in his lap as he looks nervously at her. .

“There a side of the bed you prefer?” Ted asks, and Rebecca shakes her head.

“Either one will do.” She holds up her phone, adding, "I've set an alarm for the morning at nine, but if that'll disturb you—"

"No, no," Ted says quickly. "No, that's just fine." He pauses before blurting out, "I might snore."

"That's just fine," Rebecca says, deliberately echoing him.

Now that alarms and sides of the bed have been negotiated in full, there's nothing left but for Rebecca to actually get in the bed. She quickly circles around and climbs in, face hot despite her best attempts to keep her cool, Ted turning off the bedside lamp with a click that sounds decisive in the sudden darkness.

Rebecca is usually a side sleeper, but tonight she's lying flat on her back like a corpse—-should she turn towards him, the better to monitor his breathing? Away from him, to give him privacy? But turning away doesn't make sense, they're already well past privacy, they went past it the minute he agreed to let her talk to his doctors, never mind how she had him and his son move into her house—

Carefully, so carefully, Rebecca twists around to her side. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she can make out the vague form of Ted's back and shoulders—he's also a side-sleeper, it seems.

She thinks they're just going to lie here in silence until one or both of them fall asleep, but Ted says suddenly, "Can you believe it's just been a week since...since all this started?"

"God, I can't," Rebecca says with conviction. She can barely remember what she was preoccupied with before last Friday—sponsorship deals? Wrangling the minority owners? Anticipating a visit from her mother? Everything has been blotted out by that awful morning, how close she came to losing this man, to having her relationship with him become something to speak of in the past tense.

Her chest aching, Rebecca unthinkingly reaches out and lets her fingertips brush along his back, feeling the worn, soft fabric of his t-shirt and the solid planes of his back beneath it. Beneath her palm, she can feel it as Ted takes a sudden, sharp breath.

In the dark, with nowhere to rush to, it’s easy to say it. “I’ve been so scared this whole week,” Rebecca admits, her voice choked. “I’ve been running around like a lunatic, making all these wild plans, because if I stop, I’ll just…God, I don’t even know.”

She wants to clutch at the fabric of his shirt; it takes an effort to open her hand wide, stretch her fingers across the broad expanse of his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says softly to him. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“You saved me,” Ted murmurs, his voice low and so sweet, so sweet to her ears. “Think that means you’re stuck with me now.”

She can hear the smile in his voice, and tension she didn’t realize she was carrying unwinds in her, leaving her limp with relief. “Good,” she sighs, and it’s not much longer before she’s falling asleep like that, her hand just curving around his shoulder, her body only a few inches away from his.

*

Michelle arrives right as Rebecca and Henry are assembling ingredients for the egg white omelets for brunch the next morning, Rebecca having urged Ted into lounging in bed rather than trying to get up and assist with cooking. If that means she has to work out how to cook with fucking egg whites for the first time in her life, so be it: Henry is adorably enthusiastic about assisting, and it’s a welcome distraction from remembering how she’d woken up this morning, with practically her entire body pressed against Ted’s, her arm casually thrown over his waist, invading every inch of his personal space.

God. Even as she’s making small talk with Michelle, Rebecca’s cheeks are heating up again at the thought of it, the mortification of realizing that Ted was fully awake, the guilty pleasure of having him so close, warm and solid and smelling absurdly wonderful, even at nine am in the morning. As she’d tried to disentangle herself with some measure of dignity, Ted had twisted around to look at her, and something about seeing him like that, sleepily disheveled, morning stubble on his handsome face as he blinked up at her, all while lying next to her in bed was just—

Well. It was too fucking much.

“You guys sure about these egg white omelets?” Michelle asks doubtfully, peering at the mixing bowl where Henry, with more enthusiasm than finesse, has been attempting to separate the whites from the yolk.

“Dad’s gotta start eating healthier,” Henry says stubbornly. “All his doctors say so. His regular diet sucks.”

“It does suck,” Rebecca agrees. “The man has been living off coffee, protein bars, and pub food for years.”

Michelle looks startled. “Seriously?” she asks, and when Rebecca nods, her mouth firms and she says, “Okay, then egg white omelets it is.”

Thankfully, Michelle is much more adept at working with egg whites than either Rebecca or Henry, and they’re in the middle of making their first attempt at a spinach and feta omelet when Rebecca, to her alarm, hears a heavy, slow tread on the stairs.

“Ted?” she calls out in disbelief, rushing to the foot of the stairs where, unbelievably, Ted is slowly making his way down, gripping the banister tightly. “Ted, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Go back to bed!”

“Nah, I’m good,” Ted says, even as he’s moving like an eighty-year-old man, hair rumpled, obviously still half-asleep.

“You are not good, you are still in recovery and—” Rebecca huffs in exasperation as Ted reaches the bottom of the stairs and moves past her to make his way into the kitchen, smiling at a dubious-looking Henry and a blank-faced Michelle. “Ted. Didn’t we agree last night that you were going to stay in bed and have us bring your meals up to you?”

“Mm, no,” Ted says, shuffling towards the espresso machine. “You said I should do that, I did not actually agree with you. Is there coffee?”

“Not for you there isn’t,” Rebecca replies immediately, and Ted finally turns to look at her, still smiling, but there’s a touch of exasperation in his eyes and along his jaw.

Good. If they’re actually going to have this battle, Rebecca refuses to be the only one losing her temper. “Come on, Rebecca, one cup of coffee isn’t going to—”

“We were just discussing how much your diet sucks,” Rebecca says, grandly waving at Henry and Michelle. “You are going to have orange juice and some egg white omelets, not coffee and fatty pastries that’ll only contribute to your shit blood pressure. And it is shit, Ted, every one of your doctors agrees.”

Ted’s mouth thins, but he says, “Fine. But I’m eating down here for my meals.”

“No, the fuck you aren’t,” Rebecca says sharply, and Ted, finally losing his temper, retorts, “Yes, the fuck I am, dammit, Rebecca, I’m not an invalid and I won’t be treated as one, even if I do gotta make some lifestyle adjustments—”

“You have to make a lot of lifestyle adjustments, and I won’t have you jeopardizing your recovery right from the start!” Rebecca retorts, unrepentant and uncowed.

“Excuse me,” Michelle says, her face pale, and rushes out of the kitchen, through the door that leads to Rebecca’s garden. She’s in such a rush that the door slams shut behind her, leaving all three of them to blink in surprise.

Ted’s the first to cut into the silence, flushing hard as he says to Henry, “I’m sorry for cussing in front of you, buddy, and losing my temper like that. That’s not fair to you.”

Henry looks remarkably nonchalant. “Nah, I’m okay. It’s actually kind of funny hearing you cuss,” he adds, grinning mischievously. “You sound weird when you do it.”

“Yeah, I’m a little out of practice,” Ted admits, rubbing a hand over his still-unshaven face. “God. This is why I need coffee in the morning, I’m not human without it.”

“Well, we’ll survive you being inhuman in the mornings while you kick your caffeine addiction,” Rebecca says, then adds archly, “Of course, this would be the perfect time to switch over—”

“I swear before God, Rebecca, if you tell me that now’s the time to start drinking tea,” Ted starts indignantly, but then he catches sight of her twitching mouth and finally breaks himself, chuckling as he drops his head, his sudden burst of temper disappearing as soon as it came. “Oh, Lord. You sure you don’t regret inviting me to stay here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rebecca says briskly. “You’d have to do far worse than this to scare me off.”

Ted scratches at his head, still abashed. “Seems like I scared Michelle off though. Think I oughta talk to her—”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll go,” Rebecca says quickly. Between Ted’s moodiness (perfectly expected in someone newly recovering from a heart attack) and the long-running tension between him and Michelle, never mind whatever it was that pushed Michelle to exit so abruptly just now, this is the perfect time for Rebecca to run interference between them.

So she slips out into the garden, only to stop abruptly at the sight of Michelle feverishly smoking from a vape pen, pacing back and forth along the brick path.

Michelle stops dead when she sees Rebeccca, snatching the pen away from her mouth and futilely waving at the cloud of smoke around her. “Sorry. I should’ve asked if I could smoke here.”

“No, it’s fine,” Rebecca says. “I just…didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“I’m not,” Michelle says quickly. “Usually. Only when I’m stressed out.”

“Ah,” Rebecca says with understanding, gently sitting down at the nearby bench she’d had put in three years ago. “That’s perfectly understandable, this is a stressful time.”

“Mm,” Michelle agrees tightly, staring down at the vape pen in her hand. Rebecca’s not sure, but it looks like Michelle’s gripping it tightly.

“I’m sorry if that little scene upset you,” Rebecca begins carefully. “It’s perfectly all right though, a little moodiness from Ted is expected, especially in the wake of a heart attack, all the doctors and literature agree—”

Michelle laughs suddenly, and the bitterness in it has Rebecca pulling back with surprise. “Oh, but Ted doesn’t do moods. Ted has one mood: optimistic. Fifteen years of marriage, and he never fought with me about anything. Not once. Not one fight, ever.”

The way that Michelle speaks, you would think this was a tragedy beyond words. “I…”

“Fifteen years of marriage, and I don’t think he ever bit my head off,” Michelle continues, starting to pace again, rolling the vape pen back and forth between her hands. “Never snapped, never cursed, never got angry. Not once. But with you—you, he snaps at. He gets moody in front of you. He curses in front of you.”

Rebecca has no idea why Michelle is spitting this out like it’s a personal affront.

But then Michelle stops dead in her tracks, and turns to look at Rebecca, her face stricken and her eyes wet. “He’s an actual person with you,” she says. “I never got that from him. No matter how hard I tried, he never let me in. Never trusted me enough to…to let himself be ugly in front of me.”

Oh. Oh, hell.

Rebecca opens her mouth, and closes it. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she finally admits. “It’s just…this is how we are with each other.” Something about the admission has Rebecca’s heart clenching in her chest, the realization of how much Ted trusts her, how utterly desolate she’d be if she didn’t have that from him.

Like Michelle is right now, even though she’s been divorced from Ted for over half a decade.

Michelle visibly gathers herself. “No, it’s okay. It—I’m glad he has that with someone, even though it’s not me.” She pauses, and then says slowly, as if she’s realizing it to herself, “And it’s not going to be me…not now, maybe not ever.”

“Michelle—”

“It’s fine,” Michelle says quickly, holding up a hand, and Rebecca thinks to herself that perhaps Ted isn’t the only one who has a hard time letting himself be ugly. “It’s fine, I just…seeing him like that with you…I just needed a minute.”

“Of course,” Rebecca says. “I…do you want me to go? Give you some space to think? And to vape?”

Michelle lets out a little choked laugh, wiping at her eyes. “God. Yes, please, thank you. I’ll be in soon, I just…”

“You need a minute,” Rebecca says, and Michelle nods gratefully.

So Rebecca goes, leaving Michelle to smoke out her stress in the garden. She comes back to the kitchen to see Ted demonstrating how to flip an omelet to Henry. “Everything okay?” Ted asks as she comes in.

Rebecca gives him a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine, Michelle just wanted some air.” Ted looks like he wants to press for more, but Rebecca glances meaningfully at Henry and says, briskly changing the subject, “Now see, I could never quite manage the flip. I always cheat and use a plate instead.”

“Wait, how do you use a plate?” Henry asks, and Ted laughs and suggests, “Well, why don’t we show you with the next omelet, okay, buddy?”

*

Michelle leaves the house soon after breakfast, and doesn’t come back until after dinner, where Rebecca has gracefully conceded ground to have Ted sitting in the living room with her and Henry, and Ted in turn has agreed to avoid coffee for the time being, as well as taking it easy and not overextending himself too soon. And once Ted has said he’ll do something, he’ll do it.

So after dinner, the three of them are watching yet another superhero movie and awful film aside, Rebecca could get used to this, very easily.

Michelle arrives about midway through the film, her eyes suspiciously a little red when Rebecca answers the door. “Michelle, is everything all right?” Rebecca asks in an undertone, ushering her aside.

“I’m fine,” Michelle reassures her. “Just had a long dinner. With Beard, actually. We had a good talk.”

“Incredible how good a conversationalist that man is, given how few words he actually says,” Rebecca muses.

Michelle chuckles, but her laughter sounds a little watery. “Yeah, it’s a constant puzzle.”

“We’re just watching a film, if you want to join us?” Rebecca offers up.

Michelle’s smile turns wry. “Let me guess. There are superheroes.”

Rebecca sighs. “Sadly yes.”

Michelle chuckles. “Sure thing. I’ve suffered through them all, I can suffer again.”

But once Michelle’s with them in the living room, Rebecca notices she watches Ted and Henry more than she turns to watch the screen, her expression achingly sad and tender as she looks at her son, curled up against Ted’s side as he exhorts Ted to pay attention, because this was a really good bit. “I’m watching, buddy, I’m watching,” Ted promises, his arm slung around Henry’s shoulders.

Whatever else happens, whether Henry stays here or goes back to Kansas with Michelle, at least Rebecca will have seen this: Ted with his son, safely home from hospital, looking utterly content and at peace.

Her eyes stinging just a little, Rebecca turns her head to find Michelle studying her now, her expression having become thoughtful.

All in all, it’s not entirely a surprise when Michelle politely asks Henry to go upstairs to his room, as she needs to have a conversation with his dad for a moment.

“If it’s about me, I should stay here,” Henry says, mutinous. “I deserve a say.”

“Son,” Ted says, his voice kind but firm. “Go on up and let me have a quick chat with your mom.” Henry opens his mouth to protest, and Ted lifts his eyebrows; Henry scowls but desists after that, though his stomping footsteps up the stairs are a clear sign of how displeased he is about it.

Despite not wanting to, Rebecca feels obligated to say, moving as if to stand up, “If you two would like some privacy, I can—”

“No, it’s okay,” Michelle says. “It involves you too, so you should be here.”

Rebecca sits back into her seat, and waits to hear what Michelle has to say. She keeps an eye on Ted as well, watching the way his hands curl in his lap as he looks at Michelle patiently.

“So I won’t lie,” Michelle says, taking a deep breath as she jumps right into it, “I came here with every intention of dragging Henry straight back to Kansas, no matter what he told me. And then Henry made it very clear that he would literally have to be dragged to the airport before leaving you, and that we would end up plastered all over social media before we even got checked in at the airport.”

“You’d also be all over every tabloid in the country,” Rebecca says; when Ted raises an eyebrow at her, she lifts her hands and says, “I’m sorry, but it is true. You are very famous here, Ted.”

Ted concedes the point with a roll of his shoulders, but he squares them and looks Michelle in the face as he says, “I know Henry’s been giving you a hell of a rough time these last few days. I should’ve pushed back on that with him sooner, and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Michelle says formally. “But the truth is that I can’t actually force Henry to come home. And I also can’t pretend he wouldn’t be happy here with you, in England, living in this…remarkably large house,” she says, glancing around her. “Seriously, from the front you wouldn’t think it was half this big.”

“It’s like a TARDIS,” Ted says, and Rebecca fails to hide her grin; seven years living in England have left their mark. But casual Doctor Who references aside, Ted’s expression is so fragile, like he’s afraid to hope this conversation is leading in the direction he wants. “Michelle, are you saying—”

“What I’m asking is,” Michelle plows on, determined, “if Henry were to stay here, in London with you, what…God, what does that even look like? Do you guys live here with Rebecca? Where does he go to school?”

Vibrating with excitement, Rebecca says quickly, “If you could just hold that thought for one second, Michelle—” She’s already moving in the direction of her briefcase as she speaks, snatching it off the ground in search of the brochures she’d left there.

Ted and Michelle’s faces are a picture as she comes back, carefully fanning out the school brochures on the table in front of them. “So I’ve done some research,” Rebecca says, “And these are the top schools in the area that Henry could attend. Two are within easy walking distance, all of them with excellent track records. This one is my early pick, it has great science and maths programs, and I know those are Henry’s favorite subjects…”

She trails off, looking into their dumbfounded faces, and sits back. “Have I overstepped?”

“No, no,” Ted says quickly. “I just…you did research?”

“I wanted to be prepared in case this was a possibility,” Rebecca says, confused by his bewilderment—she’d told him she’d do everything she could to make this happen, how is he surprised that she stuck to it?

“Of course you did,” Ted says, his eyes going soft.

Her cheeks turning hot, Rebecca turns to a wide-eyed Michelle and says, “I’m not sure how much time you have left before you need to return to the States, but I can get us interviews with all the heads of these schools by tomorrow morning, we can tour all of them within the next day or two, and if you don’t like any of them—”

“You’ll have another half-dozen alternative options ready for me to consider by then,” Michelle says, her voice faint.

“We can make this work, is what I’m saying,” Rebecca says, looking Michelle in the face and willing her to believe it.

Michelle holds her gaze for a long moment, then she looks down at the brochures, slowly picking one up and studying it. “You said this was your pick?” she asks.

Rebecca lets out a breath. “Yeah. I did.”

*

Two weeks after Ted’s moved into her house, Rebecca’s finally stepping into the office more regularly for work, which is how she walks into her office one morning, biscuit box in hand (Ted still insists on making them for her, she just carries them into work herself) to find Roy, Beard, Colin and Higgins all waiting for her.

Rebecca’s stride slows as she sees them, and she says slowly, “Why does this feel like an ambush?”

“It’s not,” Higgins says quickly.

“Eh,” Beard says, wobbling his hand back and forth. “Kinda is.”

“We just wanted to go over something with you,” Roy says, with a quelling look sent at Beard.

“Okay,” Rebecca says slowly, sitting behind her desk. “What’s it about?”

Roy nods at Colin, who takes a breath and unfolds an oversized sheet of paper. “It’s this.”

Rebecca looks it over with confusion. It’s a calendar—a remarkably crowded calendar—with appointments and meetings color-coded in a blinding mix of fuschia, turquoise, and neon yellow. “I don’t understand—”

“This,” Roy says, tapping the schedule, “is Ted’s work schedule. Best as we can figure it out.”

Rebecca stares at it, then looks at them all, completely aghast. “That’s not possible,” she says. “He wouldn’t have time to eat. Or even breathe.”

Higgins grimaces, saying, “He did have a tendency to skip lunch quite a lot.” At Rebecca’s expression, he hurries on, adding, “What we mean is, Ted had a habit of…”

“Sticking his nose into every department in this club,” Roy finishes.

“He liked—likes,” Higgins corrects himself, with another grimace, “—knowing how each part of this club works. I’ve talked with people from marketing, scouting, the academy, and everyone agrees that he wasn’t overstepping, they all liked having him come in and ask questions, having him follow up on any problems, and so it just became…a habit. A habit that turned into that overcrowded schedule.”

“I am not doing that,” Roy says flatly. “I’m filling in for Ted as manager and that’s fine, but I’m not gonna add half a dozen different jobs on top of the job I’ve already got. Fuck’s sake, did the man ever sleep?”

“Apparently not,” Rebecca sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “There’s no way this can continue, not with Roy, and not when Ted’s back at work. Higgins, you’ll pass that message along, I trust?”

Higgins nods his head. “Of course.”

The meeting breaks up not long after that, but Roy lingers. “How’s Ted and Henry?” he asks abruptly, once they’re alone together.

“Fine,” Rebecca says, starting to smile a little. “I’m taking Henry out tonight for Guy Fawkes—he’s very confused as to why we have a holiday celebrating someone who tried to kill the king and failed miserably at it, but he’s still excited to see the bonfires and fireworks at Richmond Park.”

Roy nods. “Ted going with you?”

Rebecca’s smile grows a little smaller. “Ah. No. No, Ted prefers to stay in tonight.”

Roy’s expression doesn’t move by a millimeter, but he says, “Ted seems to be staying in a lot since he got out of hospital.”

“He’s still recovering from the heart attack, Roy,” Rebecca says, defensive. “He’s in physical therapy, dealing with the doctors and the dietitian and the—” Rebecca’s hands are moving in the air as she tries to convey the constant cycle of appointments and tests, not to mention getting Henry settled into his new school—

“But he’s feeling all right?” Roy presses, then scowls. “I’m asking for Keeley, she’s still stuck on that business trip out in Dubai, and she’s worried about Ted.”

“Right,” Rebecca says. “She’s worried.”

Roy’s scowl only deepens, and Rebecca relents. “He’s okay. He’s…adjusting.” She pauses, then starts speaking as the idea occurs to her, “Maybe we could have people over for a small dinner, nothing too big. I think he could handle that.”

“That’d be all right,” Roy quickly says, hands in his pockets. “Keeley would like that, I know.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca says, smiling. “I’m sure she would.”

*

"Thanks for taking Henry out tonight," Ted says that evening as they're getting ready for bed.

"Oh please, I enjoyed every minute of it," Rebecca says dismissively, heading into Ted's bathroom. Over the last couple of weeks, as they've continued to share a bed (while definitely not discussing their decision to do so) Rebecca's found that more and more of her skincare products keep migrating from her room to Ted's.

It's only reasonable, if she's staying the night. Practical, even. And yet the sight of her serums and night-time moisturizer carefully lined up next to Ted's shaving cream and aftershave is...well. It still throws her, even if just for a second.

Shaking it off, Rebecca works her cleanser into a lather and starts scrubbing her face, pausing only to add, "Although I can already tell I'm going to need to brush up on my history, if only to keep up with Henry's questions. We had to actually stop in the park just so I could Google details of the English Reformation—"

She hears shuffling footsteps, and looks up to see Ted leaning in the doorway to the bath, amused as he asks, "Good Lord, he had you going that far back?” He’s wearing his usual sleepwear, loose sweatpants and a worn t-shirt, this one emblazoned with the Sporting Kansas FC logo. He’s also taken to letting himself skip shaving for a few days in a row, and the stubble is…oddly appealing, even if Rebecca finds herself hoping he doesn’t actually grow a full beard. After all this time, she’s fairly sure she’s been Stockholmed into preferring the mustache.

"Yes, he most certainly did," Rebecca confirms, rinsing the foam off her face and patting it dry with a hand towel. "It was actually rather fun though, he wants to go to a bookstore this weekend and pick up some history books. I was thinking you could come with us, we could make a day of it."

She's not imagining the brief hesitation before Ted says, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Smoothing her serum across her face, Rebecca looks at Ted, who pulls a face and admits, "Guess I'm a little nervous still about being out in public after...everything. Keep thinking the paparazzi are gonna jump down my throat the minute I step outside."

"It's not an unreasonable fear," Rebecca admits, thinking it over. "Actually...I could probably call the local Waterstones, see if we could be allowed in before or after normal hours, give you and Henry a chance to browse in peace—"

Ted looks tempted for a moment, but shakes his head. "Nah. I gotta get used to getting back out there, might as well start now. And I wanna keep Henry's experiences here as normal as possible, you know?"

"Oh, shutting down a bookstore for a private tour isn't normal?" Rebecca asks in mock-confusion. Ted's dimples peek out as he grins, and Rebecca chuckles.

"Anyway, I'll let you get back to your routine," Ted says affably, moving as if to leave, but Rebecca calls out, "Oh wait, I wanted to talk to you about something."

“Sure, what’s up?”

Gently patting in her eye cream, Rebecca begins, “So I was thinking about hosting a small dinner party here. No one you don’t know, obviously, just Keeley and Roy, Higgins and Beard and Colin—I realized when going into the office today that they haven’t seen you in a while, and I think they’d all love to see you.”

Ted doesn’t say anything at first, and when Rebecca turns to look at him, the hesitation is clear. Surprised, Rebecca leans her hip against the cabinet and says slowly, “But if you don’t want to, obviously I won’t—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Ted says quickly, and Rebecca gives him a look. “Ted.”

Ted wrinkles his nose, looking away, then looking back at her, a little sheepish. “Not sure how much fun I’ll be,” he admits at last. “Between the meds and the rehab, some days it’s all I can do to keep my eyes open past seven o’clock.”

“No one is expecting you to be the headlining act, Ted,” Rebecca says. “You’re not going to need to entertain people. And I can have everyone arrive early, make sure they know not to stay too long—”

“What, you gonna kick them out the minute the clock strikes eight-thirty?”

“If you want me to,” Rebecca replies immediately. “And they’re your friends, they’ll understand if you need to make it an early night.” Suddenly aware that she might be pressuring him too much, Rebecca adds quickly, “But if you don’t want to—”

“No, it’s a good idea,” Ted says. He smiles a little, clearly reading her just as well as she can read him. “It is, Rebecca, you’re not twisting my arm here.”

“If you’re sure,” Rebecca says, still watching him, wanting to kick herself. “You can tell me to fuck off, you know, if I’m pushing you too hard.”

Ted laughs openly at this. “Oh yeah, because that’s certainly something I’m gonna do.” Rebecca’s expression doesn’t shift, and Ted’s smile fades. “Rebecca. It’s okay. I’ll tell you if you’re doing something I don’t want.”

“Will you?” Rebecca can’t help but press.

Ted’s expression shifts, as he realizes this is something she needs him to confirm. “Yes. I’ll even tell you to eff off if I think you’re wronger than Crystal Pepsi,” he adds, the joke making her smile. “But I doubt I’ll need to—you’ve got a habit of being right.”

With one last smile, he turns to leave her to the last of her skin care routine, and Rebecca turns back to the mirror, feeling reassured.

She does have to pause for a moment before getting into the bed, but that’s not her fault—two weeks in and the sight of Ted reading in bed, the reading glasses she insisted he purchase perched low on his nose, still throws her for a loop. He’s working his way through the copy of Persuasion that Alistair gave to him in the hospital, taking his time even though Rebecca knows he’s read it multiple times before.

He must sense her watching him, because he looks up and smiles. “You know I haven’t read a book not related to my job in…God, I can’t even remember how long. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I read a book, period. Even when I was out of the office, I was still looking over scouting reports, watching film from the games…”

“About that,” Rebecca says, finally going forward and slipping into her side of the bed, beneath the sheets. “I had a meeting today with Higgins and the coaching staff, about your schedule. Ted, how on earth didn’t you let me know how much work you were doing?”

He looks baffled by the question. “It was my job, Rebecca.”

Rebecca hadn’t wanted to have this conversation now, late at night when no matter how fraught the conversation gets, they’ll still have to sleep in the same bed at the end of it, but here they are anyway.

“No, it wasn’t!” she insists now, leaning forward. “It wasn’t your job to manage the transfer department, or the academy, or the marketing team—I didn’t ask you to do that, Ted. No one expected it of you—your job is to coach the team, not—” the words drive yourself into an early grave are sitting right on the tip of her tongue, but Rebecca will choke if she says them, so she says instead, “Not drive yourself mad doing the job of five people.”

“I wasn’t trying to—” Ted starts defensively, but checks himself. He pauses, looking down at the book in his hand, then says slowly, “I didn’t realize what was happening ‘til I was already in it, you know? It was like…juggling a bunch of balls in your hands, if you stop to think about what you’re doing, everything’s going to fall to the floor.”

But it all fell anyway, Rebecca thinks, her stomach cramping. “Well, now you are going to stop and think,” she says firmly. “And when you come back to work—which will not be until you’re fully recovered—I am going to go through your schedule with a fine-tooth comb and if I see anything unrelated to your actual duties, I will be displeased.” She puts as much emphasis into the last word as she can manage, crisply enunciating, knowing that Ted will be amused by her putting on what he calls her “Dame Judi Dench game face”.

But Ted doesn’t look amused, his gaze is still turned inward, as if he’s turning something over in his head. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Think I could let you do that.”

Rebecca lets the moment rest, and nudges him a little with her elbow. “So where are you in the book?”

“Poor Louisa Musgrove’s just cracked her head open on that sea wall in Lyme,” Ted responds immediately, and Rebecca settles back against the pillow.

“Can you read some of it to me?” she asks, and Ted smiles down at her, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

“Sure thing, Miss Spring Fling,” he agrees, and Rebecca smiles as he begins to read Austen in his low voice, the long American vowels somehow not jarring at all with the prose, Rebecca growing drowsier and drowsier as he reads.

It’s all been so wonderful, having him here. For all the fretting and wrangling she’s done, for all that she knows Ted’s been indulging her overprotectiveness, it’s just…it’s so lovely, having his presence here in the house, everywhere that Rebecca turns. It’ll end eventually, Rebecca knows that it’ll have to end, but…not just yet. Not quite just yet.

At some point in the night, Rebecca has a confused memory of Ted pulling his arm away from where it’s resting across her waist; her mind clouded from sleep, she makes a dissenting noise and reaches out to pull him closer, huffing as she pulls his arm back around her, the weight of it heavy and warm and satisfying.

And in the morning, as has become usual over the past two weeks, neither of them talk about it.

*

Rebecca’s taking Henry with her as her guest to the early-kickoff match against Southampton, and it’s a bright, bitterly cold November day. Henry doesn’t seem to mind the chill, his cheeks pink as he watches the teams warm up on the pitch.

“Is it weird that I’m here without Dad?” he asks Rebecca, and Rebecca blinks in surprise.

“Of course not, you’re here as my guest,” she tells him, but Henry looks at her with a worried crease between his eyebrows, and she realizes what he’s not quite asking. “I think your dad wants to give Roy and the coaching staff some space,” she admits in a low voice, glancing around to make sure none of the other minority owners or their guests are close enough to overhear. “If he’s seen in the stands watching, and the team doesn’t do well today—”

“The media’ll make a whole thing out of it,” Henry says, understanding. “Okay, that makes sense.” He pauses, then says, “You think we can get him to come out of the house more often, though?”

“Certainly,” Rebecca says, but hesitates. “But—just so you know, when we go out with your dad in public, there might be some press attention anyway. Photographers, fans, that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I’m used to that,” Henry assures her. “Everybody at school knows who Dad is, I’ve been a coach’s kid my whole life. It won’t bother me.”

“Good, good,” Rebecca says in relief, rubbing his arm. It’s become easy to be tactile with Henry the same way that she is with Nora; Rebecca would have been fond of him no matter what for Ted’s sake, but Henry is a wonderful kid in his own right.

“Well, will you look at that, it’s the mini Lasso.”

Rebecca smiles at the sound of that familiar Scottish burr, looking up to find Alistair Crane standing to her left, smiling behind his large aviator sunglasses, which look far better on him than they should.

“Henry, do you remember Alistair Crane?”

“I do, nice to see you again, sir,” Henry says politely, reaching out to shake Alistair’s hand.

“Will you look at those manners,” Alistair marvels. “Hello, lad. How’s your father doing?”

“He’s doing all right,” Henry says.

Alistair settles into the seat next to Henry and immediately engages him in conversation, which is a little bit of a surprise, but perhaps not; Alistair’s never struck Rebecca as the sort of man to like children very much, but he’s fond of Ted and therefore he’s fond of Ted’s son. And Henry is exactly the sort of well-mannered boy that’ll charm cantankerous old men, he takes after his father that way.

Rebecca’s watching the game, only halfway listening to Alistair and Henry’s conversation, which is why it comes as such an unwelcome surprise to hear Bex Mannion’s voice behind her. “Rebecca, lovely to see you.”

Rebecca twists around, baffled and annoyed. “Bex. What are you doing here?”

Bex is standing before her, hair shining in sleek waves, looking fashionable and beautiful as ever. “I’m a minority owner of AFC Richmond and the team’s playing today, why shouldn’t I be here?”

Because Bex, for all of her vaunted love of Richmond, hardly ever attends matches in person, and Rebecca cannot fathom why she would be here today, for a fairly unimportant match early in the season.

But Rebecca refuses to rise to the bait. “Well, enjoy,” she says dismissively, and turns away.

Or rather, she tries to, except Bex is sliding into the seat right behind Rebecca, good God, is this a punishment from the universe? Did she step beneath a ladder, kick a black cat, burn down a field of four-leaf clovers without realizing? “Rebecca,” Bex says, in her most reasonable tones, one that immediately puts Rebecca’s back up, “Now that I’ve got a bigger stake in the club, I’d really like for us to…turn a page in our relationship. We don’t need to be enemies here.”

“Well, we’re certainly not going to be friends,” Rebecca says icily. “And I hardly think this is the time or place to discuss business, thank you.”

Rebuffed (but unfortunately not quashed entirely, Bex has the self-preservation skills of a cockroach) Bex sits back in her seat, murmuring, “Suit yourself, Rebecca. You always do.”

Breathing hard through her nose, Rebecca stares ahead at the pitch.

Unfortunately, the game isn’t a classic—both teams have a hard time creating clear chances, and Richmond ends up squeaking through with a 1-0 win thanks to Komoh winning a penalty and Jamie Tartt coolly slotting it away in the far right corner, past the despairing Southampton goalkeeper.

Henry has a good time at least, singing along to every chant (he knows all of them, even the ones created a good sixty years before he was born) and chattering away with Alistair, Rebecca letting their voices wash over her until she hears Henry asking, “Are you coming to the party tomorrow night?”

“What party?” Alistair asks, and Rebecca says with a laugh, “It’s not a party, just a small dinner party I’m hosting for Ted.”

“I like dinner parties,” Alistair says, in a tone of dramatic injury. “How am I hearing about it now?”

“Because of a grievous oversight,” Rebecca says dryly, and then pauses and looks at him, considering him—the larger than life personality, the dozens of times she’s seen him dominate a room. “Actually, Alistair, are you free tomorrow night?”

“Oh I see,” Alistair says. “Just an afterthought, am I? Need to fill an empty seat, do you?”

“For God’s sake,” Rebecca starts, exasperated, then checks herself, looking at Henry. “Henry, sweetheart, do you mind getting me some water from inside?”

Henry easily agrees, and once he’s slipped past Rebecca to take the stairs inside the owner’s box where the refreshments are, Rebecca says in a low voice, speaking quickly, “Look, I kept the guest list small because I don’t want Ted to get overwhelmed, he’s…not exactly ready yet for large crowds.” Alistair’s face flickers with concern, and Rebecca adds, “But if you’re there, being loud and strident and Scottish, then Ted won’t feel the need to—”

“Pick up the slack and make a big show of reassuring everyone he’s fine,” Alistair finishes for her, understanding. “I see.” He frowns, adding sharply, “Not that I’ve ever been strident in my life, Rebecca.”

“No, of course not,” Rebecca agrees smoothly.

“But if you need to have me there to smooth the way,” Alistair continues, scratching at his goatee, “Well. I suppose I could oblige you.”

“So generous of you,” Rebecca says, very dry, and Alistair grins, laughing at himself as much as anything else.

*

The guest will be arriving soon, and Ted keeps tugging at the hem of his jumper, as though he's afraid it doesn't fit. After the past few weeks of seeing him in loungewear, going days without shaving, it's somehow oddly jarring to see him with his jaw and cheeks clean-shaven, in his long standing uniform of a jumper over a button-down shirt—though thankfully he's forgone the khakis for a pair of jeans.

"Time isn't going to move faster no matter how much you look at the clock," she says gently, when she catches him glancing at his watch yet again.

Ted gives her a rueful smile. "But maybe this watched pot’ll boil if I stare at it long enough.”

He’s not the only one acting ridiculous, as Henry calls out doubtfully, “I think…people are here?” and Rebecca goes to the door to find that Keeley and Roy have arrived and are pacing on the doorstep, refusing to ring the doorbell until it’s exactly six o’clock, as Keeley shouts through the window when Rebecca asks.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rebecca calls out.

“I’m being polite!” Keeley yells through the door.

Ted, cheeky little shit, starts an actual countdown to six o’clock, Henry joining in, and they cheer as Keeley hits the doorbell exactly at six, Rebecca throwing open the door to Keeley’s beaming face and Roy’s usual stone-faced expression.

“See, polite,” Keeley exclaims, jumping in for a quick hug, before wriggling past Rebecca and through the door. “Told you she’d be excited,” Roy says ruefully as he steps inside after her.

Keeley immediately launches herself at Ted, wrapping him up in a hug. Smiling over her shoulder, Ted immediately returns it, only to slowly become surprised as Keeley refuses to let go. “Oh, hey now, hey, what’s this?” Ted murmurs, rubbing Keeley’s back in that comforting way he’s so good at. “You okay?”

“I am,” Keeley says, muffled. She finally pulls back, wiping at her face. “I am, and you’re okay. God, you look so good, Ted! You look like yourself, instead of like, the living corpse you were in hospital…oh, fuck, I promised myself I wasn’t going to say that, but you did.”

Roy grimaces but agrees. “She’s not wrong, mate.”

Ted looks a little overwhelmed by that, his gaze turning to Rebecca, who says briskly, “Well, anyone will look better once they’re no longer suffering through a massive health crisis.” She pauses, then adds with a smirk, “And once they’re eating real food and not living off protein bars and coffee.”

The joke works, as Ted says indignantly (even as she can see the relief in his face), “Hey! There was pub food in there too, don’t forget.”

“Oh, how could I forget you living off fish and chips for actual years,” Rebecca replies, in her most sarcastic tones, and gets Ted dimpling at her for her pains. “I swear to God, if I thought it would work I’d have Mae ban you from the Crown and Anchor.”

“She would never turn on me like that,” Ted says, and Keeley confirms, smiling happily, “Ted can’t even get Mae to take his money anymore after Richmond won the title, and there are at least three regulars there with tattoos of Ted’s mustache. Or his whole face.”

“Wait, what?” Henry asks, grinning. “Your whole face?”

As Ted is explaining to his son that some tattoos are just “a no-good, terrible, very bad idea” no matter how happy you are about getting a trophy, the doorbell rings again, and Rebecca smiles as she turns to invite in her other guests.

She'd insisted on having the party catered, for all of Ted's protests; the entire point of this was to have Ted relaxed in a social setting, not have him going mad cooking all day for half a dozen guests. Ted had eventually relented, but had still insisted on baking a truly decadent chocolate cake that Rebecca is sure will have Keeley going off yet again on how Ted should take up the longstanding offer to go on Celebrity Bake Off.

Over the main course, the subject turns to Henry settling in at school—Henry looks amusingly tolerant of every adult he meets asking him the same questions, but gamely answers that he’s doing fine, he likes his teachers and his classes, and oddly, one of his classmates who recently moved to London from Liverpool gets more grief over her accent than Henry gets over his.

“You know,” Colin says thoughtfully, “I just realized that your accent doesn’t sound a lot like your dad’s.”

Henry grins suddenly, eyes alight with mischief, and he casually throws a bomb out into the middle of dinner. “That’s ‘cause Dad’s accent is from Texas.”

Keeley’s head shoots up at this, while Ted just closes his eyes and sighs heavily through his nose. “I’m sorry?” Keeley asks in disbelief. “A Texas what? But Ted’s from Kansas. And look, I don’t know where all the states are in America, because your country’s got too many of them, but I know those aren’t the same.” She turns to Roy and whispers, “They aren’t, right?” and sighs in relief when he shakes his head.

Henry, meanwhile, has a giant grin on his face. “Dad’s only sort of from Kansas, at least if you listen to Grandma’s side of the family.”

“You’ve been listening to Great-Uncle Clayton again I see,” Ted sighs.

Meanwhile, Colin has dug out his phone and is jabbing at the screen with growing consternation. “They’re not even next to each other?” he exclaims, showing an image from Google Maps to the entire table. “There’s a whole other state between them!”

“There are plenty of other people back home in Kansas that sound exactly like me,” Ted protests.

“Ehh,” Beard says, wiggling his hand back and forth. “Debatable.”

Ted throws a betrayed look at his friend. “Et tu, Beard?”

Henry, meanwhile, is grinning at his father, as this is clearly something he loves to tease Ted about. “Dad’s accent is really from Galveston, because that’s where he was born, and because Grandma’s from Galveston and he spent summers there as a kid and also coached there before I was born, so his accent is really from Texas,” Henry declares, all while Keeley’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates.

“What the fuck is a Galveston,” Roy wonders out loud.

“Whatever it is, it’s eight hundred and forty miles away from Kansas,” Colin says, still poking at his phone. “At least according to Google.”

“Christ, your country’s too fucking big,” Alistair says. “Do you know how many countries in Europe you’d drive through if you were traveling for eight hundred miles?”

“How do you have an accent from a place eight hundred miles away from where you grew up?” Keeley wonders. “I thought you were from Kansas!”

“I am from Kansas!” Ted protests.

“Ted, did we ever really know you at all?” Keeley exclaims, staring at him, looking utterly betrayed. “God, what are we going to find out next, that your mustache is fake?”

Ted gasps, lifting a hand to his mustache as if to make sure it’s still on his face. “Keeley, I love and appreciate you dearly, but those are fighting words.”

Snatching Colin’s phone out of his grasp, Keeley jams it in Ted’s face, pointing wildly at what Rebecca can only assume is the map of the United States, and the distance between Kansas and Texas. “Ted, explain.”

“Okay, but what is an accent, really,” Ted offers up, and Keeley makes a lot of outraged noises at this.

As everyone continues to debate about accents and how ridiculously oversized the United States is—Beard takes the controversial opinion that it’s not that the US is large, but everywhere else is just too tiny for its own good—Rebecca takes a moment to fix the image in her memory; her favorite people all sitting at her dining table, being silly and happy together, and Ted in the center of it all, his eyes shining and his mouth curved up in a smile, his posture relaxed, looking healthy and at ease.

Ted must notice her watching, as he turns to look at her for a moment, his smile deepening, and Rebecca’s cheeks are now flushed for a reason that has absolutely nothing to do with the wine.