Endurance

by Amy Daws

  After I do my business, I scamper back into the room and swan dive into the bed. Tanner’s warm arms wrap around me, holding me to him as if he’s been doing it his entire life.

  “I don’t want to leave this bed,” I murmur into his chest as we lie face to face.

  He hums and drops a soft kiss to my hair, his eyes still closed. “Me neither.”

  “When I leave this bed, my mind starts racing,” I add.

  “Then we shall stay here all day.”

  “But—” I start.

  “Butt,” Tanner replies, sliding his hand down and palming my cheek, pulling it against his growing erection.

  It’d be so easy to get lost in him again. It’d be so nice to reach under the covers and grip him in my hand, and to climb on top and ride him until I have no more coherent thoughts.

  But.

  “We need to talk,” I say, my voice more firm than before.

  He sighs heavily and, with a bit of effort, I manage to get him propped up against the cream upholstered headboard. His abs and inky arms call to me, but I remain seated by his feet, facing him. I wrap a sheet around my chest so we’ll have no more distractions.

  “How do you feel this morning?” I ask, ready to attack this situation with a bit of business sense about me.

  He quirks a playful brow. “I’d feel better if I was balls deep in you, but I can’t complain.” His smirk makes me smile.

  “I mean…after last night. Do you…” My voice trails off as I adjust the sheet around my breasts.

  “Regret what I said?” he asks, losing his playful smile.

  I nod.

  “No, not at all.” He leans forward and grips my ankle in his hand, pinning his blue eyes on mine. “I want to marry you, Belle, and if you need to hear that in the light of day, then hear this. I would go to the Register Office right now if you gave me the green light.”

  My eyes fly wide. “You’re crazy!”

  “Pot, meet kettle,” he retorts.

  “We need to figure a lot of things out before we do this, Tanner,” I stammer.

  “Like what?” he asks, genuine curiosity painted all over his face.

  “Like, life plans. Goals!” I gesticulate with my hand.

  “Well, fire away.” He sits back against the headboard again, crossing his thick, veined arms over his chest expectantly.

  I roll my eyes and reply, “All right, where do we plan to live?”

  He shrugs. “Probably your place. Camden thinks he’ll be moving out soon and our lease is up for renewal, so I can come to yours. Or we can go flat-hunting and get our own.”

  “I would like to get our own. My father bought my flat and I’m completely over being under his thumb.”

  He nods. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “All right. What about jobs? You could get traded or lent out or accept a contract from somewhere far away. I can’t be a doctor in South America, Tanner. It doesn’t work like that for me.”

  He frowns. “I know when we first talked about my career, I said I had nothing tying me down, but that’s all changed. You are a game changer, Belle. Truthfully, I’ve never had the Premiership aspirations that Camden did. Tower Park is my home. It always has been. I’d love to grow old and die in that stadium. I think I could be a good manager there if my dad ever heaves off. Or hell, maybe Shirt Off My Back will be something I can focus my efforts on. I’m up for anything. And I love and respect that you’re a doctor. I fully recognise that you need to stay near Dr. Miller. That works for me. I have no desire to leave London. Ever.”

  I frown, taken aback by his detailed answer, so I fire a tougher one at him. “Kids?”

  This gives him pause. He turns and looks out the window, his jaw firm and strong. “Truthfully, I never thought I’d want kids, but after seeing you hold Rocky the other day, I have to admit that’s changed, too.” He leans forward and grabs my hand, kissing it softly. “I like the idea of having a family with you…down the road. We don’t need a baker’s dozen or anything. But I quite think one or two would be nice.”

  I think I ovulate on the spot.

  “What about you?” he asks, concern creeping up in his eyes.

  I swallow and pull my lips in between my teeth before responding. “I hated my upbringing. It was cold and unfeeling. I was around nannies and staff more than my parents. I worry that I could be like that.”

  His eyes slant with sympathy. “You could never be cold and unfeeling.” He kisses my hand again and shifts closer to caress my cheek, tucking messy, dark tendrils of hair behind my ear. “You are fireworks, Belle. You are warm and full of feelings. You’d make a wonderful mum.”

  His words force my eyes to close against the stinging of tears. I clear my throat. “Religion?”

  My lashes flutter open and he pulls back with a shrug. “I’m Christian but not actively. I’d consider going more if that was important to you.”

  “It would be something I’d enjoy doing as a…family I think.” The word family coming out of my mouth feels terrifyingly incredible.

  A half-smirk slides up on his face as if he can tell he’s acing this test with flying colours.

  “Okay then, what else?”

  So I go for a bit more abstract. “What kind of wife do you want me to be? If we have children, will you want me to stay at home with them?”

  “Christ, no!” he exclaims. “You’re a fucking incredible doctor, Belle. You can’t just stop doing that.”

  I raise a brow. “So a nanny then?”

  He shrugs. “I wouldn’t be opposed to having a nanny, but I’d rather see if we can have a go at it ourselves first. I see us with a fifty-fifty partnership. I don’t expect you to do everything. I don’t want a wife who mothers me or acts like a housekeeper. I want a wife who lets me stick it in her on a regular basis, so if that means I need to do the dishes or Hoover the floor, I will.”

  Now I feel like he’s lying. “Tanner, how is it possible that we went through a huge list of life goals and agreed on everything. That is not possible.”

  His face crumples in horror. “No…it’s not. And to be honest, it’s creeping me out.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Quick, pick a fight with me about something,” he says hurriedly.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, totally confused.

  “This isn’t normal. I want to make sure we’re still us. Do that thing you do where you pick a fight with me about nothing.”

  “I do not do that,” I bite back, crossing my arms in a proper pout. “Everything I say is perfectly logical. You’re the crazy one.”

  “Just pick a fight with me and I’ll feel better,” he moans.

  I roll my eyes and glance around the room for inspiration. When I see one of his feet sticking out of the covers, I say in clipped notes, “I hate your pinkie toe.”

  “What?” He looks down at his offensive foot.

  “It sticks out to the side…It looks like a birth defect.”

  His face drops in dismay. “That’s rather specific.”

  “It makes me sick,” I sputter.

  “Well, I’m not asking you to suck it!” His eyes are accusatory and annoyed, our glorious and agreeable bubble well and popped now.

  “The minute you do, we’ll be divorced faster than you can—”

  He dives across the bed and tackles me, silencing my words with a kiss. “I fucking love you, future wife.”

  I giggle and look up at him. “I fucking love you, future husband.”

  Standing outside of my dad’s gated entry in Chigwell, I pull Belle by the waist, attempting to pry her off the wrought iron fence.

  “Stop being so dramatic.”

  “Says the future Queen of England,” she snipes and then lets go, falling against my chest. She looks up at me through thick lashes. “You’re sure we can’t keep this from your family for like…one week?”

  I shake my head. “There’s no fucking way. Secrets like this don’t survive the Harris household. Believe me, they are l
ike drug dogs. They sniff that shit out. Besides, you won’t be able to keep this from Indie anyway.”

  She groans. “I’m scared of Indie. She’s small, but she has that ginger blood in her and that shit is unpredictable.”

  I chuckle and kiss her forehead.

  “Fine, let’s do this.” She pulls away and jogs in place, shaking her head side to side like a fighter preparing for a battle.

  I shake my head as she hustles past me. “There’s my future wife I know and love.” I run to catch up and crack her on the arse as we make our way up the front step.

  When we walk into Dad’s kitchen, everything looks different. Normally, Vi is busy cooking, Dad is at the table going over manoeuvres, and an old football game is on in the background. It’s noisy and bustling. But today, all I see is Dad, Vi, Hayden, Booker, Gareth, Camden, and Indie all huddled around the table, peering down at something in stony silence.

  “Well, hello, hello, family,” I bellow. They all turn and hiss at me to be quiet. “What’s going on?” I ask, eyeing them curiously and pulling Belle along with me to see where they are standing.

  I peer over Gareth’s shoulder and see Adrienne, or Rocky, lying in her car seat. Her wild spray of blonde hair has a big pink bow clipped in it, and her big blue eyes are drooping slowly, like she’s starting to nod off but fighting it every step of the way.

  “This is what we’re watching?” I whisper.

  Everyone cuts menacing glowers at me, except Vi. She answers me from the other side of the table. “They find it fascinating.” She shrugs. “They are just getting a glimpse of my day-to-day life. How are you guys?”

  She looks at Belle with a big, warm smile and must see something she doesn’t like. Her face falls. “What is it? What’s the matter? Has something horrid happened?”

  I frown and look at Belle, who’s swiping at tears on her face. Bloody hell! “What is it?” I ask, moving to cup her cheeks, concern rioting through my body.

  “Nothing, I’m fine. Just tell them quickly,” she says with a weepy smile that doesn’t look sad but happy. “I’m going to lose it.”

  I laugh, drop a kiss on her lips, and then tuck her under my arm. I turn to face everyone who’ve now diverted their attention from the almost sleeping Rocky to us.

  “I’ve asked Belle to marry me,” I declare proudly, holding back none of my gusto.

  We’re met with silence and some blinking.

  “I proposed to her,” I clarify, thinking that’ll help spark some sort of reaction.

  Silence.

  “Last night,” I add.

  Nothing.

  “In…erm…the photo booth thing at her charity event. It was rather romantic.” Still nothing so I add, “She said yes.”

  Vi is the first to break the silence.

  “She did?” Her eyes blink wide with disbelief.

  “Yes!” I exclaim defensively. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “I’d say,” Gareth’s deep voice booms. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Belle?”

  “Thanks a lot,” I grumble.

  “You can’t blame him, Tan. This is just a bit of a shock,” Booker adds helpfully. “You have a reputation of being…ridiculous.”

  “Well, I love her and she loves me, so we’re getting married. Sod all of you. You’re not invited.”

  I shove a hand through my hair, turning my back on them, agitated that their shock isn’t over the fact that I proposed, but that she said yes.

  “I know it’s fast,” Belle adds, tension high and tight in her shoulders. “But as insane as this is, it’s real. I love Tanner.”

  Her words sooth my soul just as Camden speaks next. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  I turn to look at him. “I didn’t plan it.”

  “So it was spontaneous?” Booker asks.

  I nod.

  “Well, I’m happy for you,” Indie peals—the only bloody voice of reason in this God forsaken room. She adjusts her yellow glasses and adds, “You guys are crazy, but I think you’re meant to be.”

  Hayden pipes in his rosy opinion next. “Tanner marrying a doctor. I never in a million years would have guessed that.”

  They all break out into laughter, and I’m two seconds away from launching into a proper pout. Belle’s hand creeps up my arm and she nudges me with encouragement.

  Vi moves toward us, her hands outstretched to Belle. “You are perfect for Tanner. I’m thrilled for you both.”

  “So am I,” Camden confirms.

  I look over at Dad, whose stoic face is marred with apprehension. We lock eyes as Indie and Vi begin hugging and asking Belle about wedding plans already.

  I walk around them to approach Dad. “You okay with this?” I ask him cautiously.

  “You just got your game back, Tan,” he replies, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  I purse my lips. “I think Belle helps me play well. I feel grounded with her. Focused.”

  “Well, surely you didn’t propose because of football.” His concerned eyes turn grave.

  “Never,” I defend, pushing my hair out of my face and trying to find the right words to prove this to him. “Dad, I love her. It was like…it felt like…” I stammer. “Like…marry her or quit breathing, and I chose to marry her. Football wasn’t even a factor.”

  His eyes soften. “You really love her.”

  I huff. “More than I even knew I could.”

  A glossiness shimmers in his gaze and he frowns, clearing his throat.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I proposed to your mother after only two weeks. Seeing your face today is bringing back memories.”

  Memories. Memories he’s never shared. I know the logistics. I know that Mum was pregnant with Gareth when they married. However, all the warm and fuzzy stuff about how Dad fell for Mum has been hidden for so long that I actually forgot to keep asking.

  “I’d like to hear more about that sometime,” I add.

  He nods and looks around at everyone. “Another time. For now, I’d like to go congratulate your fiancé.”

  That label brings a smile to my face.

  Belle continues fielding hugs from everyone. Even Gareth, who’s saying something to her about how she could do a lot better.

  I don’t care.

  She said yes.

  THE DAY OF THE MAGAZINE interview is upon us. It’s been a few days since Belle’s charity event, and the only people we’ve told about our engagement is my family and Indie. I thought she’d want to go home and tell her parents, introduce me to them properly, but she refused. She said she didn’t matter to them unmarried so she won’t matter to them married. It’s sad, but I’m relieved I won’t have to see her prick of a father again. He deserves a knock to the jaw.

  However, someday she may want them in our lives again. And when that day comes, I’ll endure him…for her.

  Speaking of wedding bells, Belle says she wants to wait to get married. Apparently there’s some archaic twenty-eight day notice we have to give the Register Office before we can make it legal. Now she wants to finish her fellowship and me finish out my season, then take a long holiday. She’s wanting to get married on a beach, just the two of us, which in girl talk means Indie and Cam can come, too.

  So, for the past few days, Belle and I have been keeping our engagement quiet. She seemed slightly bothered when I told her I didn’t want to mention it in the interview either. I hated planting that seed of insecurity in her but…

  I have plans.

  The interview is at Tower Park after the team finishes practice, so Belle plans to meet me here when she gets off work. It’s a small crew. Two cameras, two camera operators, and the interviewer, who’s a short, little, Irish spitfire that introduces herself as Georgina. They set up near the east side goal post so their shots can get both the pitch and the stands in the background.

  When Belle arrives, my nerves set in. I’d been so calm and coo
l and collected before. Now that I see her, that’s all gone.

  The London sun is beginning to set, bathing the lush grass of the pitch in a warm, heavenly sort of glow. Belle’s dressed in a simple pair of black leggings, hot black boots, and a green plaid button down, subconsciously representing Bethnal Green through and through. She looks perfect.

  Her dark hair is long and straight, blowing in the wind as she strolls onto the pitch toward me. I meet her halfway, pulling her in for a kiss that I need to breathe some life back into me.

  “Hiya,” I husk against her lips.

  “Hiya,” she smiles back.

  “How was your day?”

  “It was great. Yours?”

  “Just another day at the office.” I tweak my brows around the stadium.

  “Sedgwick let me in.” She shoots a sneaky smirk at me. “Feels kind of cool to be down here, actually on the pitch.”

  My eyes heat. “I have plans for afterwards.” I wink and she bites her lip, a crimson blush colouring her cheeks.

  We walk over to join the crew.

  “Hello, guys, I’m Georgina. Thanks for chatting with me today.” She gestures to the two director’s chairs seated next to each other as she takes one facing opposite ours. There’s one camera angled at us and another angled at her. “This is going to feel like friends talking, so please be candid, be colourful, have fun. Your fans will love it.”

  “Fans,” Belle huffs. “His fans you mean. I have no fans.”

  “Oh, you have fans, dearie,” Georgina corrects, her heavily mascara-covered lashes batting excitedly. “You’re a high-risk foetal surgeon dating a famous footballer. Together you two are a power couple and an inspiration to women and men everywhere.”

  This brings both Belle and me up short. It’s sometimes hard to realise that people look up to us. I can see how they would admire Belle. She saves lives. But me? I just play football. It makes me even more determined to make my Shirt Off My Back charity event as successful as it can possibly be.

  The interview starts off easily. Questions about how we met. What we enjoy doing together. Truthfully, it’s a thousand times easier to answer them now that we’re the real deal. If we would have still been fake dating, this could have been a nightmare.