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Chapter Text

1986

Rebecca despised flying, but as she clutched the railing of the Queen Elizabeth II with a white knuckle grip and gazed out over nothing but the endless stretch of the Atlantic in all directions, she was no longer certain boats were much better. 

She took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, salty air, and reminded herself how grateful she was not to be trapped in an airtight metal tube getting flung across the sky at unnatural speed. With the dying orange of the sun reflecting on the deep blue water, she thought she understood why Homer described it as “wine-dark.” She felt an odd sense of calm at the thought.

Behind her, a bell rang out. Rebecca turned to see the other passengers flooding into the now open dining room, brightly lit against the inky backdrop of the endless sky. She made to follow them, a bit eager to get indoors after realizing that while a one-sleeved dress exposing her right shoulder and arm completely made her look incredibly fit, it was perhaps not the wisest fashion choice given the relative chill of the north Atlantic and the open sea. 

Many of her fellow passengers appeared to be coupled up or in small groups, sharpening her awareness that she was a solo act. 

The journey from port to port was seven days. Seven full days with zero obligations. Maybe she would find some bearable company to help stave off the monotony of the voyage, not that she needed to. There was a freedom to the transience of a place like this, knowing that after disembarking, each of them would go their separate ways, unlikely to meet again. There was no pressure, no expectation of anything more than sharing this time and space with each other and letting it go when it was done. It was so different from nearly every other aspect of her life.

White-gloved waiters stood at the entry doors, offering complimentary champagne to each passenger. Rebecca gave a polite thank you as she swiped a glass from the tray and searched the room for an open seat. She set off toward a still-empty table on the western side of the room where she’d have a clear view of the sunset.

Hardly a minute had passed before a voice came from behind her. “Pardon me, ma’am.” 

Based on his accent and the masculine waft of his cologne (notes of oud and tobacco), she half-expected to see a cowboy donning a ten-gallon hat, like a character who’d walked straight out of an old Hollywood western. To her surprise, the man bore spectacularly little resemblance to her mental image of a cowboy. He wore a navy blue cable knit sweater over a white oxford, artfully tucked into a pair of fitted jeans. The most cowboy thing about him was his mustache, but even that was beginning to disappear into some overgrown scruff that framed his toothy, dimpled smile. 

“Anyone sittin’ here?” he continued, motioning towards the open chair next to her. 

“I guess you are,” she replied, coyly returning his smile. 

He dropped into it and held out his hand to her. “I’m Ted. Nice to meet ya.”

The whole thing – the smile, the genteel accent, the outfit – was rather attractive. 

She took his hand and shook it firmly, noting the absence of a wedding ring on it.

“Rebecca. Pleasure.”

“Can I tell you somethin’? This whole thing - the bell summoning us to dinner, the waiter’s white gloves…well, it’s kinda reminding me of the Titanic.” He dropped his voice to a near whisper, “Is there some sailor superstition about saying that on a boat – like how you’re not supposed to say Macbeth in a theater?”

Rebecca laughed, “I’ve absolutely no idea. But just in case you have doomed us, I suppose we should make whatever time we’ve got left count, yes?”

“I’ll drink to that.” He took a sip of his champagne. “I take it by your accent that you’re headed back home?”

“Quite right. And by yours, I assume you’re leaving?”

“You got it.” He raised his glass to her. “Another toast: to those who leave and to those who stay.” 

Rebecca repeated his words and clinked his glass. Each of them polished off their respective flute of champagne.

“Have you visited England before?” Rebecca asked, finding herself rather curious to learn more about him for some inexplicable reason.

“Nope. First time. In fact, I’ve never even left the United States.”

“I don’t think that’s so unusual, is it? It’s quite a large place, after all. Let me guess…Texas?”

“Close. Ish. Kansas, actually.”

“Kansas? Like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz? That’s a real place?”

“Oh it’s very real, down to the tumbleweeds, tornadoes, and mean old women who really hate dogs.”

“Well, Ted from Kansas, what inspired your first journey to foreign shores?”

“Ah. Well. I am headed to London to meet with a prospective investor.”

“A businessman, then?”

“Tryin’ to be. I guess this trip will prove it one way or another. You wouldn’t happen to have any experience dealin’ with highfalutin London entrepreneurs, would you, Rebecca?”

Rebecca let out a characteristically unladylike snort. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately? You’re makin' me fear that my recurring nightmare – ya know, where I show up to my meeting and waitin’ for me are those scary bankers from Mary Poppins and the child-catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – is actually a prophetic vision. Got any tips?”

“Tip number one: Don’t base your entire perception of Britain off 1960s Dick Van Dyke films,” she continued in a low, warning tone, “I promise you it is more sinister and far less whimsical in reality.” 

“Reassuring. Thank you,” 

Rebecca grinned as she took a moment to mull over what advice might actually be helpful to him. “Tip number two: let them underestimate you. If there’s anyone they’ll think is stupider than a woman, it’s an American. No offense,” she added hastily, hoping she hadn’t accidentally offended him.

“Speaking for the people who are likely to elect Ronald Reagan a second time: none taken,” he retorted.

A waiter came over to take their dinner order, causing both to apologize that they hadn’t even looked at the menu yet.

Their conversation fell into an easy rhythm as they made friendly small talk over dinner. The subjects were innocent enough, primarily about Rebecca’s suggestions for worthwhile things to do in London. But from time to time, Rebecca caught his eyes drifting to her exposed collarbone or following the trail of her fingers as she fiddled with her jewelry or tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. A few times, his leg accidentally brushed against hers beneath the table (and he mumbled a quick “sorry”). 

It heightened her awareness of her own body. Not at all self-consciously. Just in the way she felt noticed when someone desired her. Rebecca was familiar with the feeling considering she was noticing him in precisely the same way. The brightness of his smile, the creases around his eyes when he laughed, the way he held the stem of his glass so delicately.

She supposed acquaintances weren’t the only kinds of connections she might make on this voyage. 

Was she imagining things? All throughout their meal, he was charming, attentive, and funny, not distracted in the least. Rebecca hoped she didn’t seem distracted by how much she was noticing him, and noticing him noticing her.

As the waiter cleared the dinner plates away, their conversation fell into its first lull. Ted stared out the window in thoughtful silence.

He exhaled, seeming to arrive at some conclusion, and asked, “Rebecca, how would you feel about me buyin’ a bottle of wine for us to share?”

Rebecca paused. That was hardly subtle. Or was she completely misinterpreting his intentions? Though they shared a cadence that belied a years-long relationship, she’d known him for what, less than half an hour? There was no way to know whether there was an insinuation woven into his offer or if he was simply making a friendly gesture. Either way, she decided, she was hardly ready for the evening to end so quickly. All that awaited her was a cold, empty cabin. His continued company was a far more desirable option.

Rebecca stretched out the moment, as if giving his question real thought before answering simply, “I’d feel good about it.” 

Ted smiled jovially and flagged another waiter. Rebecca raised her eyebrows as he asked half a dozen highly specific questions about the available options, half of which the poor waiter had no faculty to answer. Rebecca observed the interaction, admiring his extreme lack of pretension even as he said words that, from any other mouth, would’ve been dripping in it, like “malolactic fermentation” and “terroir.”

Once Ted finally settled on his choice and the waiter hurried away, Rebecca said, “You seem to know a thing or five about wine.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I suppose I am. You don’t strike me as the sommelier type.”

“What type do I strike you as?”

Rebecca placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop the weave of her knuckles. She squinted a little and raked her eyes ostentatiously over him. Was that a flush creeping up his cheeks? “Hm. Your accent, your demeanor, your choice of cologne make me think you’re a bit more rugged, as if you prefer the countryside to the city and you like to horseback ride in the Western style. Your choice of outfit, though, is very coastal. Somewhere north, I’d hazard a guess, given the knit and color palette. But also, the west coast, because denim wouldn’t be in vogue in New England. So, final answer: Oregonian cattle rancher.”

“It’s a little unnerving how accurate that was,” Ted sounded impressed. “I do prefer the countryside to the city, I do live in the north..ish of California, not Oregon. And, I do ride horses, not to herd cattle, but they are useful for my work.”

“Which is?”

He shrugged. “I own and operate a small vineyard." He sounded genuinely humble.

“Really?” she said, a little disbelieving.

“Really,” Ted replied, as if this kind of reaction was a regular occurrence for him. 

“That’s…unexpected,” she said, unable to think of a better word to encapsulate her feelings. “Family business?”

Ted let out a bark of a laugh. “Furthest thing from. Nope, this is a Ted Lasso original enterprise.”

“‘Lasso’? What do you mean, ‘Lasso’?” 

“Lasso. My last name.”

“You’re joking,” Rebecca deadpanned.

“I’m really never gonna beat the cowboy allegations with you, am I?”

“Guilty until proven innocent, I think,” she said with an unsubtle wink.

The waiter returned with the bottle and poured each of them a glass, leaving the bottle on the table before them. Rebecca picked it up and appraised it, reading out the words printed in a swooping black cursive across the label, “'Where Dreams Have No End.' Cheers to whatever that means.” She lifted her glass and he reciprocated, the rims meeting with a clink.

“Cheers,” Ted echoed, holding her gaze for a moment too long, but really not long enough.

 “So, how did you come to own and operate a vineyard?”

“It’s kinda a long story.”

“Good news. We’ve an entire bottle of wine to drink, and you have a captive audience.”

Ted looked as if they’d gotten to the end of a chess match and recognized that he was beat.

“Well, I guess the beginning is a very good place to start, as a wise Austrian nun once said.” He inhaled a long, deep breath, as if buying time to choose exactly where the ‘beginning’ was. “This is gonna sound like a bit of a yarn, but I promise it’s all part of the story.”

She liked that he'd used the word "yarn," not a turn of phrase she was familiar with. Rebecca pushed her chair out from the table, turning towards him to indicate her readiness. She topped off both their glasses and made a gesture for him to proceed. 

“I come from the kind of place nobody leaves. You grow up there, marry your high school girlfriend.” Rebecca thought she caught a flash in his eyes as he said that. “Get a job in town, have kids who grow up there, and on and on. No one talked about it, but I think people’d just wake up one day realizing they’d spent their life in a kinda suspended animation…Just waitin’ to die. That scared the hell outta me.” Ted paused for a moment. “So I worked hard in school, figured goin’ to college would be the path of least resistance to gettin’ out. I was good enough at most subjects, but what I really loved, since I was a kid, was history, ancient history in particular. I thought maybe I’d become an archaeologist, a museum curator, somethin’ like that. I got my hands on every book in the library, took every class I could about it. At some point, I started to notice how central wine was – religiously, economically, culturally – to nearly every ancient civilization from China to Rome.” Ted gestured out toward the now darkened water of the ocean beyond, “'But when with thy hands thou hast laid hold of the land, loose it from thee, and cast it into the wine-dark sea.'”

“The Odyssey?” Rebecca asked, momentarily breaking free from the spell of his words, a strange sensation overcoming her. How odd that she’d recalled the phrase 'wine-dark sea’ earlier this evening. She was angled towards him more than before, and she understood why he called it a 'yarn' considering his words were pulling her closer.

Ted nodded. “The Greeks didn’t have a word for ‘blue’ so Homer compared the color of water to wine. I ended up writing my senior thesis about it. How wine is the lifeblood of humanity, a gift given to us by the Earth. How every bottle tells a story. Ya know, grandiose college kid crap, thinkin' I was the first person to ever realize this.” Ted cradled his wine glass with one hand and rested his free one on his knee. 

“I started making big plans in school - I wanted to study in Italy and visit the vineyards near Mount Vesuvius and Tuscany, go to graduate school, who knows what else, but, well, my dad uh…passed unexpectedly.”

“Oh Ted, I’m so sorry.” Rebecca, unthinkingly, placed her hand on top of his free one and gave it a gentle squeeze. His eyes dropped to where their skin met, her hand now inadvertently resting on his thigh. She followed his gaze, her cheeks suddenly warming at the intimacy of the gesture. Worrying that she’d overstepped, she withdrew her hand.

“Thank you.” He clenched the hand she’d just been touching into a fist. “After that, I needed to take care of mom, so I moved back home after I graduated. I got a job teaching social studies at the middle school and coached soccer on the side. I even got back together with my high school girlfriend,” he chuckled, a bit darkly. “From dad, I’d inherited some money. Not a ton, but something. I scrimped and saved every penny I could, knowing that this was my ticket out when the time felt right. A couple of years later, mom got into another steady relationship and she seemed…happy. Happy enough, anyway. If I was waiting for a sign, that had to be it, so I took every dollar from my bank account, got a hefty loan from the bank, and bought a small fixer-upper vineyard in Napa Valley.”

Ted replenished both of their glasses.

“Which really nearly ended up being the stupidest decision I’d ever made. I knew far less than I thought I did. Turns out a love of Homer and the wine culture of long-dead civilizations has very little practical application when it comes to, ya know, actually making the stuff. I worked my ass off. I volunteered at neighboring vineyards to learn the ropes. I studied farming techniques and soil microbiology. I took sommelier classes, drained my savings and nearly foreclosed on multiple occasions. But, a lot of blood, sweat, tears, and years later, we finally turned our first profit. And now, we’re looking ahead towards the next opportunity: international distribution. Which, I guess, is the 32-year-long path I walked to end up sitting at this table, sharing a bottle of wine with a beautiful woman. Things have a funny way of workin’ out, don’t they?”

A beautiful woman, then? Perhaps she hadn’t been off-base after all. 

“They really do.” Rebecca brushed her thumb across the glass, swilling the burgundy liquid before sipping it with a new appreciation, savoring how the warmth of it bloomed from her center outwards, all the way to her fingers and toes. “It’s a great story. If I were an investor, I’d give you every dollar you needed and then some.”

Ted laughed. Rebecca noticed a more permanent flush coloring Ted’s cheeks as the wine did its work. She could only assume she looked the same. 

“Well, I’ve jabbered away half the night at this point and I barely know a thing about you. What’s your story, Rebecca?”

Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – for Ted, Rebecca had other plans in mind. She gently lifted the bottle and silhouetted the dark glass against the light. “It appears this bottle is nearly empty. And by my count, there’s still six days left on this boat. Let’s preserve a bit of mystery, shall we?”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” he acquiesced.

Rebecca was vaguely aware that every word he'd spoken could be complete and utter fabrication. Taking a stranger on a boat’s words at face value was hardly an advisable decision. And yet, she believed him. Not only that, she trusted him. 

And he was terribly handsome. 

And, after they docked, she’d probably never see him again. 

And she deserved to have a bit of fun, didn’t she?

Swept up by the spell of his story and emboldened by the wine thrumming through her body, she thought to herself, fuck it.

She sat forward in her chair, resting her elbow on her knee and cupping her chin in her palm and stared somewhere in the proximity of his lips. “I do have one follow-up question, if I may.” She peered up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Shoot,” Ted leaned in, mirroring her, their faces not so far apart now.

“The high school girlfriend you mentioned…is she still in the picture?”

Ted didn’t miss a beat. “Not anymore.”

Rebecca stood as if to leave but instead of turning away, she bent downward until her lips were a breath away from his ear, “Then I say we take the rest of this bottle back to my room and finish this conversation there. What do you say, Ted Lasso?”

Chapter Text

1998

“And what do you say if someone tries to fuck with you?”

“Keeley,” Ellie hissed, twisting her head around to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear, “you shouldn’t say that word.” 

“Which word? ‘What’? ‘Someone’? ‘Fu–’”

“Shhhh.” Ellie rushed forward, clapping a hand over Keeley’s mouth, sending Keeley into a muffled fit of giggles. 

Keeley gently pried Ellie’s hand away from her lips and interlaced their fingers. “If I hadn’t seen the birth photos myself,” (“ewww,” Ellie muttered), “I’d swear you weren’t your mother’s child.”

The driver placed a final trunk on the leaf and pine needle-covered ground beside Ellie. “That’s all of them, miss,” he said, nodding to each of them and returning to the car.

Ellie moved to start collecting her things, but Keeley’s grip on her hand tightened. Keeley was only a few inches taller than Ellie at this point, so she could clearly see Keeley’s eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, don’t cry,” she whined, “It’s only six weeks!” Too late. Keeley was near blubbering.

“I mean, are you really sure about this whole ‘summer camp’ thing? The woods are horrible. There’s bears and bugs and…and…Americans –”

Ellie grabbed Keeley’s other hand and squeezed both reassuringly. “I’m really, really, really sure, Keeley, I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

Keeley pushed her lips out into a pout. “If you change your mind, you know who to call. I’ll be back here in a heartbeat. Come here.” Keeley pulled Ellie into a rib-crushing hug. Just as Ellie started to worry she might be suffocated to death, Keeley relaxed her grip.

“Alright. This is from your mum.” Keeley slid a folded piece of paper from her front pocket and deposited it into Ellie’s hand. “It’s probably her one hundredth apology for not being able to come with us, but she’ll kill me if I don’t give it to you.” 

“Thank you, Keeley. I love you. And tell mum again I’m not upset that she couldn’t come.”

“Aw. I love you, babes.” Keeley adjusted the navy blue headband that held back Ellie’s long blonde hair. “You tell me if anyone is rude to you because I will hunt down every last one of them and make them sorry they ever crossed Penelope Welton, yeah?” Even though Keeley was barely scraping five foot and probably weighed 7 stone soaking wet, she was one of the scariest people Ellie knew.

Ellie rolled her eyes affectionately. “Goodbye, Keeley,” she said with finality as she started to push her towards the car, “I’ll see you at Heathrow. In six weeks.” 

Keeley kissed Ellie on both cheeks before she slid her pink sunglasses down over her puffy, tear-stained eyes. As she ducked into the car, she gave Ellie one last little wave with her fingers, which Ellie reciprocated, and shut the door.

The engine roared to life, the tires kicking up dust as the car vanished between the trees. Ellie expelled a sigh and unfolded the paper Keeley had given her.

Keeley had correctly predicted that it included not one but three profuse apologies over being unable to accompany them. Additionally, there was a list of things her mum had wanted her to double check she had, explicit instructions on how to return home, a reminder of all of Ellie’s allergies (as if Ellie herself would forget them), and one final paragraph:

Promise me one more thing, my love. Since you don’t have to look after me this summer, please just try (underlined three times) to be a kid!

XOXO, Mum

“If you’re not going to clean up after yourself, will you at least keep your mess on your half of the room?” Ellie demanded, launching a balled up sock in the direction of Carrie’s head, which Carrie neatly dodged. 

“And if I have to live in this tiny cabin with only you for the next three weeks could you maybe try to pull the stick out of your arse?” Carrie snapped back, the final word in an obnoxious approximation of Ellie’s accent.

“Ugh!” Ellie released an indignant little scream. “You are without a doubt the most vile, despicable, nastiest brat I’ve ever met!”

“And you are the most spoiled, entitled, snobbiest princess I’ve ever met!” Carrie collapsed into her cot and flopped over like a pancake to face the wall. Ellie retreated to hers as well, pulling her knees up to her chest, transforming into a little ball of rage. 

The whole situation was completely absurd. Carrie had fired the first shot. All Ellie had done was defend herself. Why was she being punished for something that wasn’t her fault? It wasn’t fair.

Carrie Lasso had quickly turned Ellie’s magical summer into a waking nightmare. 

A couple of days into the first week, one of Ellie’s bunkmates had tapped her on the shoulder during lunch and whispered, “You don’t have a sister here, do you?”

“I don’t have a sister at all. Why do you ask?” The girl had pointed behind Ellie. Turning to follow her line of sight, Ellie’s eyes fell on another snow blonde-haired girl, though hers was cropped to her shoulders, holding court at a table on the opposite side of the room. Those surrounding her seemed rapt with attention, hanging on every word, laughing uproariously at something she said. The girl was nothing like her. She was gangly and tomboyish. She’d clearly spilled a drop of ketchup on the collar of her t-shirt, and instead of wiping her hands on a napkin, she’d rake them across her shorts, which was disgusting. But if Ellie really, really squinted, she supposed there was perhaps the smallest, teeniest resemblance between them. 

Clearly, the resemblance was far more pronounced to everyone else at camp. Multiple times per day Ellie was mistaken for the other girl by counselors and campers alike. 

Without even having met her, Ellie was beginning to resent her.

When they finally did meet face to face, it seemed the contempt was mutual. 

Carrie, as it turned out, had been mistaken for Ellie just as frequently, though she completely failed to see why.

The prissy, uptight British (Allegedly. Carrie seriously doubted it was a real accent) girl – whom Carrie quickly started referring to exclusively as "The Princess” – looked and behaved nothing like her, thank you very much. The Princess wore perfectly coordinated little headbands and perfect little French braids in her perfect long blonde hair and perfectly unwrinkled collared shirts that matched her perfect little skirts. Yuck. 

Carrie would’ve been more than happy to forget the Princess’s existence, but by the end of the first week, that became impossible.

The camp hosted a horseback riding competition at the end of the first week for the advanced riders. Given she’d been riding since before she could walk, Carrie easily dominated the competition. That was, until Ellie decided “on a whim” to participate, knocking Carrie out of first place.

Maybe she could’ve lived with that, but the following day, they had auditions for the camp production of The Sound of Music, one of Carrie’s favorite movies. Carrie thought she wasn’t a half-bad singer, and in comparison to a lot of the other girls, she thought she was actually quite impressive. And she even knew how to play the guitar. But then Ellie arrived and stunned the director with a pitch-perfect rendition of “I Have Confidence” and was practically offered the role on the spot. Carrie was stuck playing Mother Superior.

Fine, Carrie decided then. If Ellie was going to beat her in all camp-approved activities, Carrie figured it was time to go down the ignoble route and take this fight to the proverbial streets. The Princess was a prim, proper, goodie-two-shoes; she wouldn’t have the guts to fight back.

Carrie started to hear rumors that Ellie’s cabin was hosting post-dinner poker games in her bunk, which her friends were desperate to participate in. From what Carrie understood, Ellie was wiping the table with the other girls as none had any experience playing. 

Once, her dad told her that one of the best ways to get what you wanted from someone who thought they had the upper hand was to let them underestimate you. So Carrie did, putting on a good show of acting like she barely knew what she was doing. “Okay,” she announced after losing to Ellie a third time, “I’m finally getting it. What if we put some real skin in the game?” she asked, a little conspiratorially because gambling was technically against camp rules. Up until then, the girls had been betting bottle caps and cool lake rocks.

Ellie looked a touch nervous at this suggestion, but said, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Whoever loses has to jump into the lake. Butt naked.” 

Ellie narrowed her eyes, “Deal.” Ellie had gotten careless after defeating so many people, creating an opening for Carrie to take her for all she was worth. And that might’ve been it, except that Carrie had possibly escalated things when she corralled her bunkmates into stealing Ellie’s clothes from the lake shore after she’d jumped in.

Things had accelerated from there, each successive prank growing more complicated, more malicious, and more obvious until the head counselor accidentally got caught up in one of them. Identifying Ellie and Carrie as ringleaders, they were exiled to the “isolation cabin” where they would be forced to stay until they could learn to get along.

Fat chance, Carrie had thought to herself upon hearing that. 

The first 24 hours passed in angry silence, occasionally broken by even angrier shouting matches. On the following day, the weather matched their foul moods. Unceasing rain and vicious thunderstorms meant all were confined to their cabins except at mealtimes.

Carrie laid on her bed, trying to burn a hole through the wooden slats of the cabin wall with the ferocity of her angry stare. Was that sniffling? Carrie stayed quiet for a moment longer until she was quite sure that, yes, Ellie was crying on the other side of the room.

The sound made Carrie soften…a little.

So the manners robot was human after all.

Carrie longed to ignore it, but a nagging voice in her mind that sounded an awful lot like her father told her that you should always help a person in need.

Carrie exhaled slowly and turned. Ellie was staring out the window, angrily wiping tears away from her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Are you okay?”

“What do you care?”

“I…Hold on,” Carrie slid off her bed and rummaged around the duffel bag shoved beneath it until she felt the crinkle of plastic. She pulled out a blue package and made her way cautiously across the invisible line dividing the room, bracing herself for any sock projectiles being flung her way. But none came.

“May I?” Ellie looked suspiciously at her for a long moment, as if trying to assess any potential threats. Seemingly finding none, she gave a nod. Carrie sat down at the foot of Ellie’s cot and held out the blue package. “A peace offering. Do you like Oreos?”

Ellie wiped her nose on her sleeve and gave a curt nod. Carrie peeled the corner of the package open and held it out towards Ellie. She took one of the cookies like a nervous little squirrel, nibbling the edge of it as if she wasn’t completely convinced Carrie hadn’t poisoned them somehow.

When she didn’t immediately drop dead, she whispered meekly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carrie replied, taking her own cookie and splitting it open to scrape off the icing with her teeth. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Suit yourself.” Carrie shrugged and held out the Oreos to Ellie who helped herself to two more.

As Carrie began to stand, Ellie blurted out, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because it’s what my dad taught me to do when people need help.”

“I don’t need help.” Ellie's voice started to rise again, but she relented. “I think I’m just a little homesick, is all.”

“Do you want to tell me about home? I haven’t traveled much – my dad hates flying.”

“So does my mum! She couldn’t come drop me off because of a work thing, but really I think it’s because she wanted to avoid getting on a plane.” Ellie let out a pathetic little chuckle. “The last time she crossed from America to England, right before she got pregnant with me, she took a boat to avoid flying.”

“Oh my God. My dad did the exact same thing!” Carrie exclaimed.

“Did we just find something in common?”

“Yeah. Actually, two things.” Ellie looked at her with confusion. “One: we both like Oreos. Two: Our parents hate flying. The counselors will be so proud. We should write it down to prove we’re making amends.”  

“'Amends' is maybe a bit presumptuous,” Ellie smiled.

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Ugh, who uses words like ‘presumptuous’?” But she returned Ellie’s smile.

 “I guess classy girls from London, where I’m from.”

“Woah. Like Abbey Road? Paddington Bear? Big Ben? Oh my God, did you ever meet Princess Diana?”

Ellie laughed, “Well, I didn't meet Princess Diana…but my mum did,” Ellie raised an eyebrow, as if she knew how impressive that was, and Carrie validated this by gasping in shock. “London is amazing. And it’s huge. I could spend my whole life there and probably never see all of it. But really, it’s not London I miss so much as my mum.” That stung Carrie a little; she was curious to know what it was like to have a mother you missed. “Where do you come from?”

“California,” Carrie replied. 

“Oh my God. Do you live next door to movie stars? Do you know Julia Roberts?” 

Carrie guffawed at this, “No, no, no. If you think London is big, California is like a million times bigger. I live in Napa with my dad. I’ve never even been to Hollywood – Napa is hours and hours north of there.”

“What’s it like?”

“I love it...most of the time, but sometimes – I don’t know. It gets a little lonely. We live on a vineyard so there’s always a lot of boring grown-ups around. But mostly it’s okay because my dad is my best friend. We do practically everything together - watch movies, ride horses, go camping, that sort of thing.”

“What about your mom?” Ellie asked. Carrie knew it was an innocent question, but her chest tightened all the same. Ellie apparently noticed the change in her demeanor and sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. Things with my mom are…a little weird. My parents split up a few years ago and my mom moved back to Kansas…with the guy she left my dad for. We talk on the phone but I only really see her a couple of times a year. My dad makes a lot of excuses for her, but really…it just doesn’t seem like she likes me.” Carrie straightened up her shoulders, realizing she'd just said something she'd literally never told anyone but her diary before and abruptly attempted to shift the subject. “What’s your mom like?” She crossed her legs on the bed and leaned forward until her elbows rested on her knees.

“I’m really sorry, Carrie. I’ll tell you about her if you want, but I don’t want it to seem like I’m bragging.” 

“It’s okay! I want to hear about her. Really.”

Ellie lit up a little, “Mum’s the best person ever. She’s completely fearless and she’s really strong. Like, muscular, but also emotionally, you know? I’ve never seen anything knock her down. She’s really funny and she swears like a sailor. And she has the prettiest singing voice. And she’s so, so beautiful. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than her. Not even Princess Diana or Julia Roberts.”

“Wow,” Carrie sighed dreamily. “Is she married?” she asked, a little trepidatiously as Ellie had not mentioned any other parental figures.

Ellie seemed to pull into herself a little. “No. She designs wedding gowns for a living, but ironically she’s never been married herself. One thing my mum isn’t good at is relationships. Keeley - that's my mum's assistant, but also kind of like my aunt, I guess? - likes to joke that she wears boyfriends like an accessory, ‘a new one for every season,’” Ellie laughed sardonically. 

“Do you know your dad?”

Ellie sighed, “Nope. Mum’s told me next to nothing about him. Only that they met on a boat called the Queen Elizabeth II.” The name stirred something in Carrie’s memory. Was that the name of the ship her dad had told her about? “And that it was just a fling. I can tell she gets a little irritable when I bring him up, so I try not to. But I did find something in her room a couple of weeks before I came here…”

Carrie’s eyes widened, “What?! Tell me, pleeeeeeease!” 

“I’m not going to tell you.”

Carrie groaned with frustration. "Come on! Why not?"

Ellie smirked a little wickedly. “Because I'm going to show you.”

She scooted off the bed and padded over to the wardrobe where her things were neatly put away, opening up one of the drawers and pulling out a battered old tin. Carrie tried to peer at whatever it was Ellie took out of it, but she quickly hid it behind her back as she returned.

"At the end of the school year, a lot of the girls at school started wearing makeup, but I didn't know how. So when mum was out of the house, I went to her vanity to get some practice in. I know I could’ve waited for her to come home, but I don’t know, I guess I was a little embarrassed and thought I could just do it on my own. And she’s not terribly strict, but she’s explicitly told me not to go through her stuff without her permission.”

Carrie faked an offended gasp. “Are you telling me that you broke a rule?”

“I know!” Ellie said, clearly not picking up on Carrie’s sarcasm, “I don’t know what possessed me. But when I opened one of the drawers I found this. And I stole it.”

Ellie whipped out the thing she’d been concealing behind her back. It was a small piece of paper, like the kind of stationery you’d find in a fancy hotel. Ellie gingerly handed it to Carrie like it was the most precious, fragile thing in the world. 

Embossed across the top was a letterhead reading Queen Elizabeth II - Southampton. Carrie’s eyes traveled down the paper to a rather good pencil sketch of a man. "Your mom drew this?"

"I told you she's a fashion designer, so she's pretty good at drawing, too."

Pretty good was a bit of an understatement, Carrie thought. The man was drawn in a reclining pose, as if his legs were stretched out but his torso was propped up against something. One arm was raised, bent at the elbow, his hand resting behind his head, the other was draped casually over his belly. Carrie felt herself blush a little as she realized his shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing a dark patch of chest hair. She quickly averted her gaze from this specific detail and inspected his face.

And her heart stopped beating.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What? Did you rip it or something?” Ellie was next to her in a flash, bumping up against her as she looked it up and down to make sure no harm had come to it.

“No, no…I…It’s just…Um…I’m…”

“Are you having a stroke or something? Talk to me, Lasso!” Ellie looked at Carrie with a wild mixture of bewilderment and concern.

“Wait a sec.” In a fugue state, Carrie dragged herself over to her own wardrobe, which was haphazardly full of dirty clothes and random accoutrements, and dug a photo out of one of the drawers. “Hold on to your butt,” she warned as she came back to the bed, clutching the photo to her chest. She sat next to Ellie on the bed and flipped the photo around, holding it side-by-side with the paper sketch. 

The photo was a battered Polaroid featuring two people wearing cowboy hats. Carrie's dad held the camera, pointing its lens back towards them with one hand to snap the photo, while with the other he was pulling the brim of the hat down over the girl’s – Carrie’s face. They were a little blurry, but the picture had caught them in a genuine moment, both beaming with infectious smiles. It was imperfect, but Carrie considered it her favorite photo of all time. She took it with her everywhere. 

“I might be crazy, but they look an awful lot alike, don’t they?”

Ellie’s heart was pitter-pattering in her chest as she carefully took both images from Carrie and transferred them to a desk in front of the window where the light was brightest, laying both down flat on the wood. Carrie materialized next to her a beat later and in a twin motion, they both bent down to inspect the images more closely, their heads nearly knocking together as they did so.

“It can’t be,” Ellie breathed. 

The sketched man was younger, a light scruff clung to his jaw. His body language was completely different, but his eyes were gazing directly at them, as if through the lens of a camera. Her mother – apparently even more of an artist than Ellie knew – had captured an expression that Ellie could only describe as love. There was something about that expression in both the drawing and the photo that was uncannily and unmistakably the same.

In the corner of the drawing, she saw inscribed in her mother’s lovely, spiraling cursive: TL. 1986.

“TL,” Carrie whispered, as if her eyes had found the same clue at the same moment. “My dad’s name is Ted Lasso.”

They turned to face each other, their mirrored brown eyes meeting.

As they shared that look, something locked into place in her mind, in her heart, and Ellie thought she finally understood why everyone had been confusing them all summer. Both of them had something of the expression of the man in the pictures. I love your smile more than anything in the world, her mother had always told her. Was it because it reminded her of him? This ‘Ted Lasso’? 

“When is your birthday?” Carrie asked quickly.

“December 31st. I’ll be twelve.”

“Hmm,” Carrie slumped a little. 

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know…I thought that maybe, somehow, we were like twins or something. But my birthday is October 11th.”

“And you know your mother.”

“I know, I know. It just would’ve explained a lot if she wasn’t actually my mother.”

“Oh,” Ellie replied in understanding. She hesitated for a moment, but then slung her arm around Carrie’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “We might still be sisters though.”

“But how? I mean, what are the freakin’ odds? That my dad and your mom just so happened to meet on a boat and then 11 years later just so happened to send their daughters to the same summer camp? It doesn’t make any sense. And this whole time they never told either one of us any of this?”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Ellie pointed to the drawing. “This might not even be your dad! For goodness' sake, he might not even be my dad. Like I said…my mom gets through a lot of men.”

“Gross.”

“I know!”

“But…The Queen Elizabeth II. When you said it earlier, I thought I remembered something. My dad has told me so many stories about the year I was born. 1986. His first trip abroad. He sailed to England on the Queen Elizabeth II because he was so terrified of flying over the ocean. I’m certain of it.”

“So what do we do?” Ellie huffed, slapping a palm to her forehead as if she were about to faint. She wanted to run out into the rain and scream.

“We have to figure out the truth. It would explain so much. Ever since my parents split – even before that if I’m being honest – my dad has never seemed totally, completely happy. I mean, he has me, and I'm the greatest, obviously."

"And humble, too!"

Carrie ignored her. "But it’s like part of him has always been missing. What if that part is her, your mother?”

“And mum can never, ever settle down. Every man she dates falls short of her expectations. What if it's because none of them are him? What if they’re–"

“Soulmates,” both girls said at once. 

Carrie collapsed dramatically onto the floor. Ellie followed. Both let out an enormous, identical sigh. “This is so sickeningly romantic and tragic,” Carrie added. They rolled onto their sides and faced one another. “So what should we do?”

“We could…we could trade places and then force them to switch us back?”

“I like where your head’s at, kid.” Carrie smirked.

“You’re literally three months older than me–”

Carrie continued, louder, “But while they tell you camp is a life-changing experience, I don’t think they meant it that literally. We’re not identical enough that the counselors would let us leave here if I tried to tell them I was flying to England and you to California.”

“Then…We have to get them in the same place somehow. Without them knowing. Mum will totally freak if I breathe a word about him to her.” 

“‘Totally freak?’ You’re starting to sound like a real California girl.” Carrie grinned. “Here’s what I think we should do.” Carrie rolled over on the floor and slithered over to her far messier side to grab a notebook and a pen. 

They stayed awake until well-past nightfall, devising a plan that would have their parents falling in love before summer’s end.

“I think it’s going to work,” Carrie said confidently, snapping the notebook shut.

“Me too,” Ellie replied.

Carrie extended her hand towards Ellie. “Ellie Welton–”

“Penelope. Penelope Deborah Welton.”

“Penelope Deborah Welton. I, Caroline Henrietta Lasso, think this is gonna be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 

Ellie took Carrie’s hand and shook it firmly, but then yanked on her arm, pulling Carrie into a hug. “I’ve always wanted a sister,” she whispered.

“Me too. I feel like I’ve waited for you my whole life.” Ellie felt wetness on her neck. Were those tears? She released Carrie from the hug and confirmed that yes, fat, wet drops were rolling down Carrie’s cheeks. 

“Don’t cry! If you cry I’m going to cry–” But it was too late, Ellie already was. 

Chapter Text

Three Weeks Later

London Heathrow was a hive of activity, as usual. With the help of a beleaguered, but kind, airport employee charged with assisting minors, Ellie had battled her way through customs and found herself in a crush of people hurrying from place to place or reuniting with loved ones.

She was a small person looking for a small person, so she needed to claim some kind of vantage point. Wending her way through the crowd, she spotted a row of chairs and climbed up onto one to look out over the sea of strangers. Today of all days, she hoped Keeley had chosen one of her brightest, most obnoxiously patterned outfits.

She spun around, scanning the faces but found only strangers. She’d circled nearly 360 degrees, a nervous feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, when she spotted a familiar form, but not one she’d expected to see.

Rebecca Welton was impossible to miss.

Even in that split second before their eyes met, Ellie noticed heads turning as they passed her mother. Standing at six feet without the stilettos she donned every day, Ellie’s mother knew how to take up space in a way Ellie both admired and was completely mystified by.

Today, her mother wore a cherry red suit, the jacket draped over the crook of her elbow, leaving her in a sleeveless silk blouse and high-waisted trousers. Black sunglasses rested atop her head, tucked stylishly behind her elegantly coiffed blonde hair. She was perfect, Ellie thought.

As if guided by some kind of instinct, Rebecca’s head turned and her eyes fell directly on Ellie. Unless Ellie was very much mistaken, her mother looked uncharacteristically anxious, but a blink later, the expression had transformed into a bright smile. As Rebecca started towards Ellie, people parted like the red sea around her, as if she radiated some kind of power that compelled them to move out of her way.

Without a word, Rebecca wrapped her arms around Ellie’s waist and lifted her from the chair, swinging her around in a circle before placing her gently on the ground. Her hands cradled Ellie’s face and she said, “My darling girl, I’ve missed you so much. I’m never, ever letting you out of my sight again.”

“What are you doing here? I thought Keeley was coming to get me?” Ellie felt her eyes welling up, but she fought the tears back because she desperately wanted to look brave for her mother.

“See, you’re supposed to say that you’ll never let me out of your si–Oh, Ellie, is everything alright? Christ, you’ll get me going, as well.” Rebecca was still smiling, but she was also starting to sniffle. She wrapped her arms around Ellie in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry– I’m just...” Ellie took a deep breath to try and regain her composure. “I just really missed you.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your gentle heart, my love. Not to me, not to anyone. Okay?”

Ellie nodded. She had nearly forgotten that she couldn’t get anything by her mum. How was she going to hide a huge, life-altering secret from her for the next several weeks?

“I am here because Keeley, the little devil, re-arranged my entire day without me knowing, so I could have the entire afternoon to spend with you. She made sure I knew that this was a huge sacrifice for her because she’s been dying to see you. So, I say we get out of this horrible fucking place, freshen up at home, and then we are going to do whatever you want to do for the rest of the day,” she said, lightly tapping Ellie on the nose to emphasize the word ‘you.’ “On one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You’re going to tell me every sordid detail about your summer adventure and you can’t leave anything out. I want to know about your new friends, all the trouble you got into, who you kissed–”

“Ewww, mum! I didn’t kiss anyone,” Ellie interjected, a pink flush creeping up her cheeks.

“Alright, I guess you haven’t grown up that much yet.” Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “But there is something different about you,” she continued, looking her up and down, “Promise you’ll tell me what it is?”

Ellie’s pulse sped up a hair, her mouth going a little dry, “I promise,” she said as confidently as she could, but behind her back, out of Rebecca’s sight, her middle and pointer fingers were tightly crossed.

***

Nearly a week had passed since Ellie’s return from camp and Rebecca still hadn’t told her about the engagement.

Luckily, Luca was away on a job in Paris, so there was little external pressure to do so.

Internal pressure, however, was only building. With each day that passed, it was more and more egregious that she continued to omit the truth, yet every time she opened her mouth to say something, the words just wouldn’t come out.

Rebecca was almost certain Ellie was keeping something from her, too. As Ellie had recounted the events of her summer, Rebecca sometimes sensed there was a shapeless black void at the center of her stories. If she wandered too close to that void, she’d pause mid-sentence and change directions. This usually happened when she talked about the person she’d apparently bonded with the most, a girl called ‘Carrie.'

Whenever silence stretched between them, it was like both of them wanted to say something more but made an active choice to withhold their respective secrets from the other.

Eventually, Rebecca started convincing herself this was paranoia, that she was merely projecting her own nervousness onto Ellie. Whatever the explanation, Rebecca wanted to respect her daughter’s boundaries, hoping Ellie knew that Rebecca’s love for her was completely unconditional. She could’ve murdered a camp counselor and buried them in the woods and it wouldn’t stop Rebecca from loving her. So she forced herself to be patient, believing if there was something to tell, Ellie would do so in time. Anyway, she had no leg to stand on when she was keeping a probably much larger secret.

Ellie had been swept away to her grandmother’s for the night, leaving Rebecca alone with only her anxiety to keep her company.

She had polished off a martini, eaten the vodka-soaked olives, and was now chewing the toothpick to splinters as she stared down at her left hand.

She hadn’t worn the ring since the night Luca had given it to her, but in the solitude of the house, she’d slipped it back on to see if doing so might move the dial of her indecision in one direction or the other. It couldn’t have weighed more than a gram and yet the alien feel of it hugging her finger was heavier than an anvil.

Not exactly a reassuring feeling to have after you’ve agreed to marry someone, was it?

The whole thing was a bit of a blur if she was being honest. From the moment she’d realized Luca was really down on one knee, a ringing had started in her ear and before she knew it, the word “yes” was slipping off her tongue. And then he was kissing her. And, fuck, she really liked it when he kissed her.

Were those her instincts speaking for her? It was driving her mad that she couldn’t untangle it, but she was going to have to explain it to her daughter. And sooner than she’d like to.

Rebecca chucked the toothpick in the bin and walked over to the phone in the hall - the house’s last remaining rotary phone. She turned the dial, inputting Keeley’s home number by heart. The phone rang twice before Keeley picked up. “Hi, Rebecca!”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I have a sixth sense about when someone with great tits is calling me,” Keeley said coolly. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy this evening?”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure. Not the kind you’re after though, I’m afraid.”

“And it’s a continual source of tragedy in my life. But fine. What did you have in mind?”

A short while later, Keeley and Rebecca were stationed in their typical bar seats at their favorite local pub, the Crown & Anchor.

“The usual, I presume? I should mention, my partner cajoled me into adding wine to the menu. Says it’ll attract ‘upscale clientele’ as if I don’t already have London’s finest sitting right here. It’s not like old Liz herself is going to suddenly come waltzing through the door…Anyway, it’s there if you’re feeling cheeky,” Mae said, pointing at a nicely bound red leather menu sitting atop the bar.

“Thank you, Mae. The usual for now.” Moments later, Mae slid a martini in front of Rebecca and a gin and tonic towards Keeley.

“You’re still not wearing your ring,” Keeley observed, “Is that why we’re here?” Rebecca was continuously surprised by how quick she was. Her tone was infuriatingly neutral; Rebecca couldn’t get a read on whether the absence of a ring was good or bad news in Keeley’s mind.

“I put lotion on my hands before I left and I suppose I forgot to put it back on,” Rebecca said. It was a half truth.

“Mhm,” said Keeley, obviously not buying it.

“Oh sod it,” Rebecca sighed, “Straight to the point then. I still haven’t told Ellie. I keep waiting for the right time, but she’s so happy, happier than I’ve seen her in ages, and I can’t bring myself to risk ruining it. Telling her will make it real in a way it isn’t right now. And the fact that I’m waffling like this makes me question whether this is the right decision or if I should just call the whole fucking thing off now.” Rebecca drained her entire martini in one fell swoop.

“Woah there, babe. First of all, let’s cool it on treating the martini like it’s a shot, alright? We do have a client meeting in the morning and while you bending over, puking your guts out will give me a great view of your ass, I don’t think our bride-to-be will share that opinion.” She waved Mae over. “Mae, could you bring us some water? Thanks.”

“You’re right. And, thank you,” Rebecca told Keeley, a bit humbled.

“Alright. Let me see if I have this straight: you’re scared to tell Ellie, and because you are scared rather than excited, you’re now worried you actually shouldn’t be getting married at all?”

“Is that awful?”

“‘Course not! You’re making a major life decision that will have huge ramifications, not just for yourself, but also for your daughter, whom you love more than anything in the world, including me, and that’s saying something.” Rebecca hardly felt reassured by these words. “It’s hardly a surprise you’re nervous, babe.”

“Is this how you’re supposed to feel?” Rebecca said. Wasn’t she supposed to be over the moon? Bewitched by happiness? Dreaming about the ‘big day’?

“Dunno why you’re asking me. Not exactly an expert in the romance department, am I?” Keeley took a hearty swig of her drink, “By the way, I dumped Jamie. Again.”

“What? When did this happen?” Keeley and Jamie’s relationship was something of a light switch, on or off depending on the day, though Rebecca had thought they’d been a bit more stable lately.

“The day Luca proposed. You’ve had a lot of other things going on, obviously. Wasn’t sure how to slip that in without being a major bummer.”

“Are you alright? Do you want me to put in an anonymous tip to the Sun about how he comes prematurely or something?”

“Oooo imagine the headlines: ‘Richmond top scorer's boners couldn't be poorer,’” Keeley said, making both of them laugh. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m alright. And the shit thing is, he’s a great fuck.”

“The tongue thing?”

“Yeah…” Keeley said dreamily, twirling one of her curly blonde locks around her finger.

Uh-oh, Rebecca thought. “Careful, you might start drooling.”

Keeley snapped out of her momentary stupor and returned her gaze to Rebecca. “Listen, Rebecca. I can’t tell you how you feel or how you’re supposed to feel, but I’ve known you long enough to know that this,” Keeley tapped a finger to Rebecca’s forehead, “likes to get in the way of this,” she tapped her again, this time over her heartspace. “And I’m sure that has a say as well.” Keeley added, this time pointing between Rebecca’s legs. “But if I’ve learned anything from movies, I think in this matter, the heart should take priority.”

Easier said than done. She blocked her memory from recalling the last time she’d followed her heart’s desire.

“Thank you, Keeley. I’ll try and get the other two to shut up, though it’s hardly ever worked before.”

“I love you. And I’m so here for you, whatever you decide.” There was a sparkling, simpering look in Keeley’s eyes that Rebecca knew well.

“Go,” Rebecca said, smirking and rolling her eyes. That’s what she got for bringing up the tongue thing.

“Are you sure? I can stay if you want me to.” But Keeley was already half-way out of her seat.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I love you, babe.” Keeley kissed her on both cheeks. “I know you’ll make the right choice.” And before Rebecca could say another word, Keeley was gone.

In classic Keeley fashion, she’d left Rebecca to pick up the tab, not that Rebecca minded, but she admired her ability to get away with it every single time.

Rebecca started to open her purse, but paused. Now that her impulse control had abandoned her to go get properly railed, Rebecca thought a little more alcohol might help her better connect with her heart by convincing her brain to, respectfully, shut the fuck up.

She nearly waved Mae down to order a second martini, but stopped as the slim red leather wine menu caught her eye. She flipped it open to find the wine list Mae had mentioned, unsure what had possessed her to do so.

Ever since giving birth to Ellie, Rebecca had told everyone that she wasn’t a wine drinker. When it was offered, she’d habitually decline, saying something like it doesn’t agree with me. Which was true, but not in the spirit that most people understood the remark to mean.

Every bottle tells a story.

All these years later, she remembered his words as loudly and clearly as if he were still sitting next to her. And every single time she remembered, a well of pain as dark and deep as the Atlantic would open up in her, and it fucking hurt.

That pain lived in her heart, as though it had parasitically attached itself there and her heart could no longer pump blood without it. Everyone thought Rebecca was so strong, but they had no idea that she walked through life with an open wound, that her heart was a ragged, bleeding thing.

She couldn’t escape it, so she did her best to ignore it, only opening her heart for Ellie who deserved every ounce of it and more, and yet she couldn't bring herself to tell Ellie the story of how she'd come to exist.

Her sweet girl, the greatest gift of her life, anchored her permanently to that pain. It was her darkest secret and her greatest shame that she could even think such a thing, let alone feel it. But from the moment her daughter had opened her eyes in the hospital and every day since, Rebecca had seen the ghost of him in them. As Ellie got older, she heard him in her laughter, saw him in her smile, her gentleness, her warmth.

And despite how much it hurt, Rebecca loved Ellie even more because of it.

So, for Ellie, for whom she would endure any pain, she decided to heed Keeley’s advice, see if she couldn’t coax her heart out from that broken place and squeeze some answers out of it.

Rebecca scanned the wine menu, her eyes skipping over the sparklings and the whites until she found the reds, thinking that was more appropriate for a heart-to-heart with herself.

With no warning, her heart stuttered.

Right there, three down from the top, printed in fine black ink:

LASSO RIDGE VINEYARDS. Cabernet Sauvignon. Napa, CA.

She clutched her chest, as if doing so would remind her heart that it needed to keep beating.

Her ear started ringing.

“–ecca? Rebecca? Are you alright?” Mae came into sudden focus, concern etched into the deep lines of her face.

“I–” Rebecca snapped the wine menu shut, “Yes. I’m fine,” though her strangled voice sounded anything but.

“Gave me a fright there, love. Do you need me to call someone?”

“I’m alright, Mae. You’re so…so sweet to worry. I just…remembered something time sensitive I needed to do for work,” Rebecca lied breathlessly as she retrieved an impressive stack of bills from her wallet, not bothering to count them, and laid them on the bar.

“And a goodnight to you, too, dearie,” Mae said, collecting them with a whistle as Rebecca mumbled a goodbye and fled.

The London summer air, sticky and close, did little to relieve the tension still constricting her chest. She migrated to the alleyway and dug a cigarette from her bag, something Ellie would kill her for, but there was no quicker way to steady the rabbit drumbeat of her heart.

As she pulled a long, deep drag from the cigarette, practically burning away a quarter of it in one go, she came to a decision.

Tomorrow, she would grow the fuck up and tell Ellie about her engagement.

And by the end of summer, she would be married to Luca.

All throughout Carrie’s six hour plane journey, she was restless. She tried reading one of the books she’d ignored all summer, writing some of the letters she’d promised to send to camp friends, but her thoughts were frayed and scattered. Eventually she settled on staring out the window at the blanket of clouds below.

The lion’s share of the plan rested squarely on her shoulders. All Ellie had to do was not squeal and wait for Ted and Carrie to arrive, but somehow Carrie had to persuade her father to fly halfway across the world – something he wouldn’t want to do – based on a lie. Well, a lie of omission, to be exact. But she wondered whether that little detail would really matter once he figured out the truth.

On the other hand, her dad had never been great at telling Carrie no, especially when it was impressed upon him that something was really important to her. And this was. Maybe the most important thing that had ever happened to her in eleven and a half years of life.

Out there, a full continent and ocean away, were their other halves.

The plane rumbled as the wheels hit the ground at the Napa regional airport. It was so small, they just stepped from the plane right onto the tarmac. Duffel bag in tow, Carrie looked out over the small crowd gathering just across the way.

She, of course, spotted her dad immediately as he was the only one among the crowd obnoxiously bouncing up and down, waving his arms in the air.

As she approached, his motion stopped abruptly and he started saying, quite loudly, “Oh I’m sorry, miss. I mistook you for my daughter. Have you seen her? She’s about yea high." He placed his palm somewhere around his mid-thigh. “And she’s definitely not as tan as you because she was strongly encouraged to re-apply her sunblock multiple times a day–”

“Ughhhh,” Carrie grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Oh it is you! Geez. I hardly recognized ya. Bring it in, kiddo,” he said affably, holding his arms open for her.

Carrie fell into them easily. His embrace was familiar, firm, and warm. It was enough for the anxiety to abate, even if it was only temporary. “It’s good to see you, dad.”

Ted planted a kiss on the top of her head, “It’s great to see you, darlin’. I’m not gonna lie, I was pretty nervous about this reunion.” He lifted the duffel bag off her shoulder and transferred it to his own before draping his free arm around her shoulders.

“Why?” So much for the abatement of her own nerves. They roared up again like a motorcycle engine. Did he somehow already know?

“You’re just growing up fast, is all.” Carrie let out the tiniest sigh of relief. “I was scared you were gonna go to that camp and come back way too cool for your pops.”

“Keep calling yourself ‘pops’ and I might just change my mind,” Carrie dug an elbow lightly into his ribs.

“Ouch!” Ted lifted his hand from her shoulder and gave it a good shake. “I’m gonna need ice for that burn.”

“Not helping your case!” Carrie laughed.

During the drive home, Ted took the opportunity to fill Carrie in on all the Napa Valley gossip she’d missed. She didn’t understand a lot of it, but she was grateful at that moment that if there was a tangent, her father was going to find it. It meant she could continue to put off the inevitable.

Carrie hadn’t fully thought through when or how she would ask her dad if they could swap out their usual camping trip for a visit to London. She’d have to tell him about camp and her new best friend Ellie and make him realize that going to London would not only mean seeing a friend, but it was also an opportunity for cultural enrichment. She was practically a teenager. Wasn’t it time for her to start making meaningful memories?

“And I said chardon-neigh,” he said but when she didn’t reply he bumped her knee lightly with his fist. “Oh come on, that was a good one. Are you listenin’ to me?”

Carrie broke free from the runaway train of her thoughts, “Sorry, dad. I guess I’m just tired. My brain thinks it’s like ten already.”

“You’re tellin’ me you weren’t partyin’ until the wee hours of the mornin’ all summer long? What kind of camp did I pay to send you to?” Carrie laughed. “Home sweet home,” Ted announced.

The truck rolled beneath a wooden arch that read LASSO RIDGE. Being away from it for so long gave Carrie a fresh appreciation for its beauty. She opened the car window and poked her head out, listening to the crunch of gravel beneath the tires, inhaling the sweet scent of near-harvest-ready grapes, and gazing over the rolling hills covered in neat rows of vines with the forest and mountains beyond.

Soon enough, their house came into view; a beautiful Tuscan-style villa, complete with Roman arches and a blanket of ivy reaching from the ground all the way to the roof.

Beneath the primary arch, leading to the main door of the house, stood a dark-haired man with a frown deeper than should be humanly possible. His arms were crossed over his chest, his legs stretched wide as if he were blocking entry to the house. Carrie thought he’d probably look a lot more imposing in his all black get-up if it weren’t for the “Kiss the Cook” apron tied around his waist.

Ted cut the engine and Carrie jumped out of the car. “Hi, Roy!” She ran up to him and threw her arms around his waist. He didn’t move a muscle.

“Was your plane delayed?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Was there a fatal car accident blocking traffic in all directions?”

“Uhhh…no.” At this point Ted was walking up the driveway with Carrie’s luggage.

“Then tell me why when my timer went off at 6:30 to indicate the chili I spent half the day making, as fucking requested, was ready, nobody but me was here to eat it?”

Carrie pointed an accusatory finger directly at her father, “Dad missed two turns while telling me about Mrs. Truman’s chickens and he refused to drive the wrong way on a one-way street even though no one was around, so we had to circle all the way around the Morgan’s vineyard.”

“Wow. Okay, didn’t even hesitate for a second before throwing me under the bus there. We can unpack that later. Sorry, Roy, just got really invested in the part where–”

“Do I look like I give a fuck about Mrs. Truman’s chickens?” His glowering expression had not shifted an inch.

“No,” both Carrie and Ted replied penitently.

“Then stop wasting time trying to tell me about them and go eat. It’s fucking delicious.” Roy finally unfroze, turning to the side to allow them entry. He took Carrie’s backpack and duffel bag from Ted as they passed. “Oi, Carrie,” he called out once Ted had disappeared inside. She turned around and jogged back to him. Roy lowered his voice a little, “Is there anything in these bags you’d be embarrassed for me to find?”

“Just…don’t read the notebook, okay?” she said quietly, making sure her dad wasn’t in earshot.

“No fucking offense because I know you get halfway decent marks in English, but why would I want to read your notebook when I’m halfway through Wuthering Heights and I don’t know if Heathcliff and Cathy are ever going to admit to each other how they fucking feel?”

“Who?”

“Your father has done a shit job culturing you,” Roy said, quite loudly.

“I heard that,” Ted hollered back from inside the house.

“I fucking know,” Roy shouted back. “One more thing: was anyone at that camp shit to you? Because I’ll fucking end them.”

“No. I had the best time. Thank you for dinner. Sorry we were late. And I’m really happy to see you.”

“It’s good you’re here. One more day and I might’ve ended up front page news for committing a very violent murder.” He heaved the bag over his shoulder and stomped off towards the laundry room.

Carrie hurried back into the house, her stomach angrily growling with hunger. She took a beat to admire the vaulted ceilings and golden summer light pouring through the windows before finding her dad in the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” Ted asked as he ladled chili into a bowl and handed it to her.

Carrie fought down a flush as she took it from him and settled at the kitchen island. “Oh typical Roy stuff, casual murder threats, that sorta thing.”

“Well you know what they say: keep your enemies close and your murderous housekeepers closer.” He had that look like he knew there was more to the story but he’d decided not to press it. “Alright, kiddo. I feel like a kid on Christmas morning the way I’m dying to hear about your summer. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

***

Ted was having one of the worst summers of his life. For a season that people spent most of the rest of the year waiting for, Ted seemed to have awfully bad luck with them. While this one maybe didn’t quite compete with the summer of 1976, the first one without his dad, or the summer of 1986, when he’d spent nearly every day next to a phone waiting for a call that never came, it sure was sneaking high up in the rankings.

The minute Carrie’s plane had lifted off the runway, spiriting her away from him and leaving him staring down the barrel of six long daughter-less weeks, the dark clouds always on the horizon of his mind came closer and closer until they shrouded him completely.

It was only in Carrie’s absence that he truly realized she was the center of his universe. Sure, there was the vineyard to keep him busy during the day, but it was the nights he feared.

When he’d first arrived in Napa, there was very little community spirit. Ted experienced many thwarted attempts to get to know his neighbors until, little by little, he’d charmed his way into the homes and hearts of most of them. Ted liked to keep his hands occupied, so he was usually the one who got a call when Mrs. Truman needed someone to patch a hole in the chicken coop, when Mr. Sharma, whose son had gone to college this year, needed an extra pair of hands to help repair a fence. But when those calls didn’t come, he was left aimless and adrift.

Without Carrie around to look after, Roy went on his first vacation in years. While most people wouldn’t call Roy’s presence comforting, to Ted his absence was far worse. He declined to tell Ted precisely where he was going (“somewhere that isn’t here.”) or precisely when he’d return (“before Carrie comes home.”), so for the most of the six weeks, Ted returned home to a completely empty house.

It was disquieting. He attempted to fill the silence by watching movies, but it wasn’t as fun without Carrie shushing his running commentary. He tried picking up the guitar again, but the calluses he’d built up after years of playing had gone smooth, and he got tired of his fingers hurting.

He had no desire to live with his loneliness, but it moved in all the same. The only companion that brought him any comfort was a bottle of whiskey. Usually, he kept his drinking to a minimum, indulging in a nightcap after Carrie had gone to sleep. Now, he kept his tumbler two fingers full from the minute he got home until he’d had enough to give himself over to dreamless sleep.

One Saturday night, about two weeks before Carrie was due to return, he’d really overdone it, drinking himself into such oblivion that he'd apparently fallen asleep on a pool chair outside his house. A shadow was blotting the light of the morning sun and he rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

“Good morning, starshine. Get lost on your way to the bedroom?”

If jumping out of the pool chair wouldn’t A) make him puke, B) irreparably damage his very sore back, or C) cause Roy to karate chop him in the throat, he’d have done it in an instant to give him a hug.

“You’re back,” Ted said, surprised.

If Roy had spotted the whiskey bottle knocked over on the concrete next to Ted, he said nothing about it. Instead, he reached out a hand and helped pull Ted off the pool chair. There was a chorus of clicks and snaps and creaks as Ted stood up, still a little wobbly.

Roy gave a grunt and turned toward the house. As he walked away he called back to Ted, “You shouldn’t get drunk next to a pool. It’s fucking dangerous.”

Roy was as irascible as ever, but one day Ted noticed all the empty whiskey bottles had vanished, the clothes he’d left scattered around the house were laundered and returned to his closet, and generally, he started to feel more like himself again. Most nights, Roy would even sit in the living room while Ted caught a game or watched a movie, his nose buried in Wuthering Heights, cryptically muttering things like, “You’re a twat, Hindley,” from the corner.

It sure was good to have him and his peculiar brand of affection back.

Carrie’s return two weeks later rekindled his heart, but he knew that dark version of himself was just a skeleton he’d swept under the rug – he was possibly mixing his metaphors there – and it’d surely find its way back out again one way or another.

He listened with rapt attention as she recounted the events of her summer. There was nothing that made him happier than seeing her happy, though he felt a little wounded as well, if he was being honest. Conversations with her were more and more like talking to a tiny adult than a big kid, and the worst part was, he couldn’t even pinpoint when that had happened.

“And the best, best, best part was, I think I made a new best friend,” Carrie said, beaming.

“Wait, hold the phone, you’re gonna tell me I’ve been replaced, right in front of my chili?”

Carrie punched Ted in the arm. “You know what I mean.”

“I think I do. Tell me all about this new best friend, then.”

Carrie took a deep breath, “Well. She started out as my arch-nemesis.” Carrie hesitated before continuing, “We maaaaybe got involved in a prank war?”

“Now that’s more like what I expected summer camp to be like. And you won, right?”

“Yes. Sort of. We might’ve gotten in a little trouble that got us exiled to a different cabin,” she said, a little sheepishly.

“Arch-nemesis. War. Exile. Somebody get Shakespeare on the line because this is some juicy stuff. Nobody got hurt or anything, right? Do I need to give you some dramatic sitcom dad monologue about taking accountability or anything?”

“Please don’t. Nobody got hurt or anything like that. Anyway, when we were trapped in that cabin together, we figured out that we had a lot in common. She’s really the best, dad. She’s like really smart, she uses a lot of big words when she talks. And she seems like such a boring rule-follower, but then she surprises you. And we could just talk and talk and talk about anything and everything. It was like…it was like having a sister.”

Ted’s heart was already bursting out of his rib cage with love for that kid, but somehow it grew three more sizes when she said that.

“Well, I’d sure like to meet this–”

“Ellie,” Carrie supplied.

“Ellie. Cute name. Anyone that special to you must be pretty special themselves.”

“Well…Now that you mention it,” Carrie paused to chug half her Coke, “I wanted to run an idea by you.”

“And I will walk a response by you. Shoot.”

“I was thinking…What if instead of our annual camping trip, we visited Ellie's city. That way you could meet her, and we could spend some quality time together in a new place?”

“No camping trip? Wow. Times really are a-changin’.” Ted looked over at Carrie. She was sitting ramrod straight, not even touching her chili, and she had those big puppy dog eyes that glittered in the light. Whether it was by design or unintentional, that look was a knife to his heart. He always found it hard to say no when she looked at him like that. He sighed, “Alright, hit me. Where does she live? Boston? The Big Apple? D.C.? Somewhere really crazy like Tallahassee?”

“London.”

“Ontario?” Ted asked, spooning some more chili into his mouth.

“England.”

Ted choked. “You’re jokin’.”

Why did it have to be London?

“What’s wrong with London? You’ve been there before, haven’t you?”

Ted took an uncharacteristically long beat before responding, “I have been there. And what’s wrong with it? Well, for starters, they have a profoundly disturbing obsession with putting dead leaves in hot water and thinkin’ that it tastes good. And the monarchy seems a little archaic to me, personally–”

“Dad. Seriously.”

“I don’t know, honey. That’s…a big trip.”

“I know it’s far away and you’d have to get on a plane and everything, but you always talk about how you wished you’d traveled more when you were young and I’m young and won’t be forever and I think it’d be a great learning experience, too. I mean there’s so much history there, right?”

More history than Carrie could possibly know, actually. Ted clenched his fist, pressing little crescents into his palm with his fingernails. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I don’t think so. Not this year.”

“But why?” So much for that ‘little adult’ she was becoming. Carrie might as well have been stomping her foot and pouting like he was telling her she couldn't eat ice cream for dinner.

What possible reason could he give that would make sense to her? That the very thought of setting foot on the isle was enough to send him into a panic? That seeing the streets, the parks, the markets would rip open a decade old wound that refused to heal?

How could he talk about London at all without explaining that the long lost love of his life lived there?

“You need to put a lot of thought and planning into a trip like that. It’s too short notice. Okay?”

“No! It’s not okay. This is important to me and you don’t even care,” Carrie’s voice was starting to climb.

“I do care, but yellin’ at me isn’t gonna change my mind,” Ted replied, keeping his tone steady and calm since yelling back at kids never solved anything, “That is not how we deal with disagreements in this family.”

But she had reached full chested-yelling volume anyway, “This is the thing I want the most in the world and you can’t even tell me one good reason why we can’t go. You’re being unfair and selfish and stupid!”

“Hey, now," Ted lowered his voice into his serious dad register, "You’ve just taken a sharp turn into unkind territory, Caroline Lasso. Either you can apologize and we can continue this conversation without yelling and insults, or you can go calm down–”

Carrie slammed her spoon into the bowl, cutting him off. It clattered loudly as Carrie fled the kitchen, wiping angry tears from her eyes.

Ted heaved an enormous sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger.

“Some happy fucking homecoming.”

Ted spun around to find Roy leaning against the kitchen entryway, arms crossed, a light smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You heard that, huh?”

“This house is obscenely large for three people, but it’s not that big. What was that all about?”

“I think we were just treated to a special sneak preview of the Teenage Years and, what’s that? Oh, it seems early reviews are not glowing.”

Chapter Text

Rebecca took her time getting home, as if the weight of her decision slowed her very steps. She slid her key into the door and stepped through the threshold, kicking her heels off one by one. It was around this time that she noticed a light pouring out from the study that she was almost certain hadn’t been on when she’d left.

She was so fatigued that she’d probably let a robber take everything in the house as long as they left her a single bottle of vodka.

While logic told her a home invader wouldn’t be walking around turning on lights, instinct told her it would be stupid to be unprepared. For lack of a better option, she bent down and picked up one of her Loubitons, stiletto pointed outward, prepared to strike, when a sound made her pause.

On a warm summer's evenin' on a train bound for nowhere…

Was that…Kenny Rogers?

The arm holding the Louboutin-turned-shiv went limp at her side. Unbidden, a memory rose in her mind like acid in her throat. A man perched on the windowsill of the bedroom in her old Richmond flat, strumming a guitar…

She blinked rapidly, shaking her head a little as if to knock the memory loose.

“Ellie, darling, is that you?”

“Rebecca?” came a man’s voice, followed quickly by his physical form.

“Luca!” Rebecca gasped, subconsciously concealing her left hand behind her back. How had she already forgotten she'd given him a key to use while Ellie was gone for the summer? “I didn’t think you were coming back until tomorrow?”

Luca flashed his fluorescent white smile as he sauntered toward her. “I was so fucking fit the photographer wrapped the shoot a few hours early, so I caught an earlier train, thinking I could surprise my gorgeous fianceé.”

Luca snaked his arms around her waist, and ran a hand down her back, right over her ass, and kissed her, slowly and deeply. Normally this kind of behavior made her weak in the knees, but she was so rattled by everything that had happened that night, up to and including being referred to as his fianceé, she found herself worming out of his grasp.

He seemed unfazed by it. “What is this awful music? I wanted to listen to ‘Footloose’ –”

“That’s…Kenny Loggins.”

“Ohhhh. Well, do you have ‘Footloose’?”

“I dare say I don’t,” Rebecca replied, holding back a scoff. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t here to be surprised.”

“But you’re here now and that’s what matters. And we appear to be alone.”

“Your powers of observation are as sharp as ever,” Rebecca laughed.

“Thank you." He pressed a hand to his heart, genuinely touched. “You know, I’m starting to suspect this daughter of yours doesn’t actually exist.”

“Luca, I’ve shown you photos of her.”

“She might’ve been a paid actor.” He shrugged.

Rebecca shot him a look. “She’ll be back in the morning. My mother demanded some nan and granddaughter time.”

“Then I say we make the most of the night, eh?” Luca moved too quickly for her to do anything but flinch as his hand found her left one. “You’re not wearing your ring?”

Rebecca was too exhausted to come up with a legitimate enough excuse as to why, so she exhaled. Time to be brave, she reminded herself, “Luca, I need to tell you something.”

“You didn’t really hire a child actor to play your daughter, did you?” he asked like he’d finally found evidence she was guilty of a crime he’d long suspected her of committing but couldn’t quite believe she’d had the audacity to go through with it.

“Wh–You…you don’t really believe I’d do something like that, do you?”

Luca snorted and rocked back on his heels, “Noooo. ‘Course not.” Rebecca stared at him for a long moment, not entirely convinced. Well, she wasn't exactly attracted to him for his intellect anyway.

“No, no. I wanted to tell you that I haven’t told Ellie about us, yet. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.” Words were tumbling out of her with reckless abandon, “You have to understand that I’ve never been this serious with anyone else in her entire life. I mean, I gave you a key to my house, for fuck’s sake. All she knows is life with the two of us, and I just think this is going to be difficult for her to accept. It’s been such a whirlwind of a week since she got back, and…and…I was planning on doing it tomorrow, I swear.”

“Okay?” he answered simply, apparently confused why she’d just told him all of that. “I was just worried you’d lost it. It was quite pricey.”

Rebecca sighed. “No. I promise it is safe and sound.”

“Alright. Can we go upstairs now?”

“Would you be a dear and turn that record off, please? I’ll meet you up there. I want to freshen up a bit.”

Luca winked and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek before peeling off down the hall as Rebecca set off up the stairs.

She shut herself in her bathroom and forcefully expelled a long breath, hoping it might also purge her lingering anxiety. It wasn’t Luca’s sudden return that left her so shaken – if anything, sex might actually relieve some of the nerves doing a tap dance along her neck and spine.

But coincidences, if she could call them that, were piling up, and she didn’t fucking like it. If Rebecca were the kind of person who believed there was some grand design to the universe, she might have seen it as fate, a sign, or some other bullshit.

But she wasn’t and she didn’t.

And yet, she couldn’t shake the fact that it was strange. How was it possible that she’d happened to be at a pub the day it happened to start selling wine and one of those wines happened to be his? And after she’d fled that pub like a raving lunatic, Luca had just so happened to choose that record?

Rebecca unzipped and wriggled out of her tight, navy blue dress, suddenly quite stifled by it. She twisted the cold tap as far as it would go and splashed handfuls of water onto her face. In the summer, the cold water wasn’t as cutting as she’d have liked, but it was refreshing enough. With a flannel, she patted her face dry, impressed that her makeup hadn’t budged, and attempted to compose a confident, self-assured expression.

There was a light knock on the door. Rebecca swung it open to find Luca standing in the doorway, one arm resting against the frame. He took her in with a wolfish grin. “I missed that body of yours.”

“Prove it.”

Afterwards, Rebecca had wrapped herself up in a sheet and was sitting on the windowsill, exhaling a wisp of cigarette smoke out into the night air. She really shouldn’t have let herself have that first cigarette outside the pub.

“Luca,” she called over her shoulder.

“Hm?” he murmured from the bed, his eyes fluttering lazily.

“About the wedding. I think we should have it in August.”

“Next year?” He started to sit up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, but he didn’t quite make it to a fully upright position.

“Next month.”

If Luca was surprised by this proposition, he didn’t show it. He appeared to consider it for a second before replying, “Yeah. Okay.”

“We should have it at the Rosewood. I know the owner so he might be able to pull some strings to get us in on such short notice. It would be intimate. Simple. Elegant.”

“Did you just plan an entire wedding while naked and smoking a cigarette?”

Rebecca smirked. “I suppose I did.”

“You’re ‘mazing, you know that?” Before Rebecca could open her mouth to reply, he was snoring gently.

The following morning, Rebecca, much to her satisfaction, was not hungover. She was, however, momentarily surprised to find another body in her bed before recalling the previous night’s events. She supposed she needed to get used to the idea of sharing her bed and her home with a partner. A husband.

A strange enough transition for her, but it would be even stranger for Ellie. Men had never been permitted to sleep over at her house if Ellie was there, so she’d rarely had the experience of waking up with someone in her bed.

Rebecca rolled over to peek at the clock and jolted upright. It was already nearly half past 8. “Shit,” Rebecca muttered. She smacked Luca on the hip, causing him to grunt in shock. “I forgot to set my alarm. You’ve got to go.”

Luca grumbled something that sounded like “don’t wanna,” but Rebecca ripped the duvet off his still naked body, exposing him to the cool morning air. “Oi!” he yelped.

But it was too late. Her ears perked as she heard the front door swing open followed by the muffled sounds of chatting and laughter.

“Rebecca?” A voice drifted up from the foyer. “I found a very charming orphan and a beautiful beggar woman on your doorstep. Brought them inside. Hope that’s okay.”

“Mum? Are you upstairs?” The steps creaked as someone stepped onto them.

Shit. “I’m here. I’ll be down in just a moment.” Rebecca padded over to where Luca had abandoned his clothes, picking them up and chucking them at him. “Get yourself presentable. Come down in five minutes. I’ll warn them you’re here.” Rebecca dashed into her changing room and retrieved a burgundy silk robe from a hanger which she tied around her waist. Stopping at her vanity, she quickly ran a brush through her tangled hair, and then made her way downstairs and followed the murmur of voices to the kitchen.

“So he’s not your boyfriend anymore?” Ellie asked while pouring orange juice into a glass.

“Nope,” said Keeley, her head shoved in the fridge.

“But you still hang out with him?”

“Yup.” Keeley retreated from the fridge with a carton of eggs in hand.

Ellie let out a deep, perplexed sigh. “I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I, babe.”

“Sausage!” Rebecca’s mother’s voice came from behind her. “Still in your dressing gown at this hour?”

Keeley and Ellie both turned, finally noticing Rebecca’s presence. “Morning!” the three of them said in unison. Ellie rushed over and gave Rebecca a hug while Keeley peered at her curiously from her corner of the kitchen. “I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm, so thank god you all arrived when you did or else Keeley would’ve put a hit out on me for being late.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head.

“What must you think of me, Rebecca? A hit? I would’ve done it with my own two hands.” She winked. Rebecca caught Keeley’s gaze and widened her eyes, jerking her chin towards the upstairs. Keeley raised an eyebrow in understanding and mouthed Luca? Rebecca nodded.

Ellie released her grip on Rebecca’s waist and waved a hand in front of her nose, “Ew, mum. You smell like cigarette smoke.”

“I’m sorry, my love. Keeley and I were at the pub last night and I haven’t showered yet. Listen, darling.” Rebecca squatted to meet her daughter at eye level. “I’ve told you about my friend Luca, right?” Ellie nodded with a bit of a grimace, seemingly remembering him against her will. “Well, he got back from a job early and surprised me last night. And he ended up sleeping over here.” She watched as Keeley and her mother exchanged a glance above Ellie’s head and tried to appear to busy themselves with random tasks. “He’s upstairs now, though he’ll be leaving soon. I wanted to tell you because…because I know it might be strange for you, so if you have any questions or…or feelings about that, I’m an open book, alright?”

Ellie wore an expression of mild disgust and, unless Rebecca was mistaken, something that resembled frustration.

As if on cue, a voice in the entryway boomed, “Good morning, beautiful ladies.” To Rebecca’s relief – and semi-annoyance – he’d made himself almost unbelievably presentable despite the day-old clothes. Perhaps career models were incapable of looking slovenly.

“Luca. I want you to meet my daughter, Ellie.” Ellie had always been on the shy side, but currently she was doing her best impression of a much younger version of herself and practically hiding behind Rebecca. “Ellie, this is Luca.”

Ellie gave a halfhearted wave which Luca returned with a little half-bow. “Ah, so you do exist.” Ellie furrowed her brow at this. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother talks about you all the time.” Ellie remained silent.

“And, Luca, this is my mother.”

Juxtaposing Ellie’s somewhat cold reception, her mother practically leapt across the kitchen to Luca and extended the back of her hand out to him, which he took and, clearly not understanding the cue, shook it awkwardly. Her mother, however, was unfazed. “Aren’t you a dish? Call me Deborah.” Rebecca did her best not to roll her eyes. “Rebecca so rarely lets me meet her paramours–”

“Mum,” Rebecca muttered.

“So I’m hardly going to pass up the opportunity to get to know you! Why don’t I whip some breakfast up for all of us?”

“Oh, I’m sure Luca has to go–” Rebecca started, trying to give him an exit.

“Thank you. Yes, I am starving,” he replied, clearly not needing one.

“Rebecca, we’ve got to be at the studio by 10 for our meeting and we should go over the drawings before then,” Keeley tossed in.

“Alright,” Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. Ellie was still standing sheepishly behind her, gazing at Luca with suspicion. It was a good opportunity for Ellie to get to know him a little before Rebecca broke the news later today. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go get ready while Mum cooks. Keeley and I need to leave in less than an hour so, Ellie, Luca, will you please help her? Keeley, come upstairs with me and we can chat while I get ready. Good?”

Everyone except Ellie gave an enthusiastic nod. Noticing this, Rebecca turned to Ellie and put a reassuring hand on her upper arm. “Darling, how would you feel about coming to work with Keeley and I today?”

Finally, Ellie’s face lit up with a glowing smile, “Really?”

“Really. Now go and help your Nan, alright?”

Ellie dashed off eagerly and Rebecca sighed.

Well, she supposed, this all could’ve gone much worse.

***

The work day came to an all too hasty end in Rebecca’s opinion. Their client meeting had gone by without too much fuss, in no small part thanks to Ellie’s presence. This client had proven herself to be, frankly, a bit of a cunt, but she apparently had a soft spot for children. Ellie had done little except be her adorable, tiny adult self, watching the interaction attentively from the corner, but she clearly exercised some magical power over the woman.

She’d spent the afternoon working on sketches, frequently soliciting Ellie’s opinion on her artistic decisions and giving her plenty of paper so she could work on her own drawings. By late-afternoon, Rebecca’s hand was too cramped to continue so she started returning the sheets of paper to a portfolio.

“Well, darling, it’s a gorgeous day. How about we go get some ice cream and take a stroll through the park?”

“Is Keeley coming?”

Rebecca and Keeley exchanged a knowing glance. “Sorry, babe. I’ve got to stay here a bit longer and set up some appointments for your mum. But how about you and I have a spa night and sleepover tomorrow?”

“Yes, please. Can we watch My Best Friend’s Wedding?”

“Is Julia Roberts mad fit and completely deranged in that film? The answer to all of the above is yes.”

“Shall we, Ellie?” While Ellie scampered toward the front door, Keeley grabbed Rebecca’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze which Rebecca knew to be a silent good luck.

Not a half hour later, Rebecca and Ellie were walking side by side through the section of Hyde Park near their home. Rebecca was nervously eyeing Ellie, not only because of the pretense for this little mother/daughter outing, but also because every second that passed, Ellie’s giant scoop of Rocky Road on a cone approached catastrophic levels of melting all over her precious little powder blue suit.

“Let’s take a seat so you can finish that, hm?” Rebecca guided Ellie to an open shaded bench. They sat in silence, Rebecca taking in the sounds around her: the wind rustling the leaves, the chirp of passing bicycles, people laughing in the distance. Right as she was about to open her mouth to speak, Ellie seemed to have the same impulse.

“Mum, can I ask you about something?”

“Anything.”

“It’s about…the ‘f’ word.”

“The ‘f’ word?” Rebecca had figured, maybe even hoped, Ellie might have questions after the events of the morning, but she hadn’t quite planned on addressing them in a public park.

“Not that ‘f’ word.” Ellie wrinkled her nose a little, “About my…father?” She ended the sentence like a question, clearly testing the waters before plunging in.

Rebecca instinctively stiffened. It was unfair, she knew it was unfair of her to never discuss him with Ellie, and yet she felt herself shutting down, her smile faltering, the warm air turning chill against her skin.

It was the third time he’d come up in less than 24 hours.

Rebecca cleared her throat, hoping to strike a casual, carefree tone. “What do you want to know?” Well, that hadn’t sounded casual at all, she thought. Her voice was low and flat. Cold, even.

Ellie shrank in response, but gathered her strength to forge ahead anyway. “Anything? How did you meet?”

Rebecca clenched her jaw.

“Where is he now?”

She ground her teeth against one another.

“His name, even?”

Throughout Ellie’s life, Rebecca had done her best to explain that families came in all different arrangements. Sometimes children had a mum and a dad, but sometimes they only had a mum or a dad, two mums, some were raised by their nans and grandads or their Aunt Keeley’s, some had no parents at all. As Ellie had gotten older, more curious, more able to understand complicated concepts, she’d told Ellie that she’d been an unexpected miracle. And even more recently, once Ellie learned how babies came to be, that he was really only her father in a biological sense.

Rebecca knew she couldn’t avoid the truth forever, but there it was – that phantom pain gripping her heart.

Rebecca sucked in a sharp breath and released it slowly, forcing the corners of her mouth upwards. “What’s with the sudden curiosity?”

A flush rose on Ellie’s cheeks and she shrugged. “I guess…I’m just getting older and, I don’t know, I want to know where I come from.”

Her daughter deserved some honesty, as much as it pained Rebecca to give it. She stared off towards the fading sun, “Ellie…you know how adult relationships can be very complicated?”

“Like Keeley and Jamie?”

Rebecca chuckled lightly at this, “Yes. Like Keeley and Jamie. And just like Keeley and Jamie, those complications can…be difficult to explain, for many reasons. I want to tell you the story of how your father and I met, and I will, but I’m just not ready yet.”

Ellie was quiet for a long moment. Rebecca watched her carefully. “Okay,” she said, her reaction unreadable.

Just give her something to hold onto in the meantime. Be brave. “I’ll tell you this – your father is an American. As far as I know, he lives in California, but I haven’t spoken to him in a long, long time, so I can’t be certain.”

This tugged Ellie’s lips into an almost mischievous smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

It wasn’t ideal timing, but at this point she wasn't sure it ever would be, so she decided to bite the bullet.

“Ellie, there’s something else I need to talk to you about. I’ve been…hiding this from you since you got home, and I’m sorry for doing that.” Christ, I’ve been a shit mum lately, haven’t I? she thought to herself. “While you were away, Luca proposed.”

Ellie had resumed licking her ice cream. “Proposed what?”

“Marriage.”

“To who?”

“He proposed to me, darling.”

At this, Ellie burst out laughing. Well, that was certainly surprising. Rebecca had been expecting anger, tears, not this. “How did he react when you told him ‘no’?”

“I wouldn’t know, darling, because I told him ‘yes’,” Rebecca replied, trying to meet her daughter’s gaze.

“What do you mean? You don’t get married.”

“I know this might come as something of a shock, darling, but I’m getting older and it feels like the right time–”

“No,” Ellie said indignantly, “This can’t be happening.”

“Luca is a lovely, kind man. Once you get to know him, you’ll–”

“I don’t want to know him. You can’t marry him. He’s not who you’re supposed to marry.”

“What do you mean ‘supposed to’?”

But Ellie wasn’t listening, her eyes were erupting with tears. “When?”

“Two weeks. Ellie, take a breath and–”

“Two weeks?” she barked incredulously. “You’re ruining everything!”

“Penelope,” Rebecca attempted to lull her by resting a hand on her shoulder, but Ellie shrugged it off. “Talk to me, please?”

Ellie jumped up from the bench, dropping the rest of her ice cream on the gravel. “I’m going home.”

“Alright. We can go.” Rebecca also stood, but before she was even fully upright, Ellie bolted like a spooked racehorse. “Penelope Welton! Come back here!” Rebecca called after her, but Ellie didn't stop.

***

Ellie knew she’d be in deadly trouble for running away, but right now it was low on her list of priorities. She sprinted all the way from the park and down the lane until she was practically tumbling through the front door of her home. Time was not on her side, she didn’t have much of it before her mother got there.

She skipped past the rotary phone her mother kept in the hall as she’d never learned to use it and went straight through to the kitchen phone, breathlessly hammering down the buttons. She knew it was dreadfully early in California, but all the same she willed Carrie to pick up, pick up, pick up.

Just as she thought the voicemail might pick up (would she hear her father’s voice for the first time?), the line clicked to life and someone said, “Hello?”

Ellie was momentarily stunned, not expecting to hear a gruff British voice on the other end. “Calling at this hour and not saying anything is a f–.”

“Hello?” Ellie started, not wanting to draw this man’s ire, “Is this Carrie Lasso’s number?”

“Who’s asking?”

“This…this is Ellie. A friend from camp?” Ellie panted out each word, her heart pounding furiously in her ears. She pulled the spiral phone cord to its full length so she could see through the kitchen door to the front entry.

“Ah. The English girl. Yeah, let me get her.” Ellie held the receiver away from her ear as the man shouted, “Oi! Carrie! Pick up the fucking phone!”

“Thank you,” Ellie said meekly. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

“Ellie?” The familiar sound of Carrie’s voice was enough to turn on the faucet of tears Ellie had been holding back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…Carrie, you need to get here like yesterday! It’s an emergency. Mum…Mum is getting married.”

“What?”

“In two weeks! I can’t talk for long, but she just told me. She thinks she’s going to marry this stupid, boring, totally lame guy named Luca. When will you be here?”

Carrie let out a long sigh, “We’re not coming. My dad said no.”

“What? But…but he has to! My mother cannot get married. Do anything you can to convince him, please.”

“I…I can try but–”

The front door knob started to twist. “I have to go. Please, Carrie.”

Carrie started to speak but Ellie ran back to the kitchen and slammed the phone down onto the receiver right as Rebecca stepped through the threshold.

A cold war had fallen over the Lasso household since the argument on the night of Carrie’s return.

Carrie was no longer shouting at Ted, but she also wasn’t really speaking to him either. It was as if Ted had poked her with a needle and she’d slowly deflated into a wet balloon version of her typical self. Truthfully, Ted would’ve preferred the yelling over this broken, quiet facsimile of his daughter.

He knew some (like his mother) might describe his daughter as ‘spoiled’, but Ted, perhaps biased, had never thought so. Now, she seemed hellbent on proving him wrong. Was this what happened when you told a child ‘no’ when she was only accustomed to ‘yes’? Or was there something deeper going on that he was missing?

She’d maintained her east coast schedule; Roy (also an eerily early riser) told him she’d wake up at the crack of dawn and disappear to the horse stable before Ted had even pulled himself out of bed. They’d eat dinner in uncomfortable silence and she’d vanish to her bedroom for the rest of the night.

Roy was in the unfortunate position of serving as their intermediary, a role he claimed to deeply resent, but he performed it anyway.

Ted decided he’d let this go on for a few more days, just in case all she needed was a little time to process her feelings, but then he planned on taking more direct action. Knowing his own struggles, he worried he’d accidentally passed on to Carrie his ability to hide from his feelings only for them to jump out and surprise him at inopportune moments and in unpleasant ways. He wouldn’t let Carrie slip into the shadows if there was anything he could do about it.

To his surprise, it was Carrie who came to him first.

After a breakfast of Roy’s famous peanut butter stuffed chocolate chip waffles, Carrie didn’t immediately flee from the kitchen. Instead, she turned toward Ted, clearly summoning some courage before asking, “Do you want to go on a ride with me?”

Ted lit up like a torch. “More than anything in the world,” he replied.

A half an hour later, they'd carved through the trees onto a low ridge overlooking the entire vineyard, Ted’s gelding, Doc Brown, just tailing Carrie’s mare, Lieutenant Ellen Ripley. “Guess I won,” Carrie called back over her shoulder.

“I think you’re actually supposed to decide you’re racing before you’ve reached an arbitrary finishing line nobody knew about for it to technically count.” He pulled up Doc Brown’s reins and swung his leg over the saddle and gave the horse a friendly pat on the shoulder.

With both horses happily munching away at the grass, he and Carrie walked a safe distance from the edge of the ridge and gazed outward. It was without a doubt his favorite spot on the property as it somehow made it all seem so small and so vast at once.

“I’m sorry I called you unfair. And selfish. And stupid,” Carrie said timidly, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Aw, honey.” Apparently it wasn’t difficult to butter him up. “Thank you for apologizin'. And while I still don’t appreciate you saying all of that to try and hurt me, I would be lyin' if I said I wasn’t completely undeserving.”

“What? You’re not any of those things, dad. I don’t think that–”

“I know, I know. But how about we pop a squat and I do a better job explainin’ myself?”

Carrie mirrored his movement as he sat down, Carrie sitting criss-cross, Ted leaning back and balancing himself on one outstretched arm. “I’ve told you before that I traveled to London for business the year you were born, but that isn’t quite the whole story. I actually spent a couple of months there and if life had gone a different way, I might’ve stayed longer still. Ya see, I was being selfish and unfair, and maybe even a lil’ stupid, because my decision to say no had everything to do with my feelings and very little to do with yours. And I recognize that is my responsibility as a parent because a lot of times I know more about things than you do. Like, say, when a six year old feels that it would be funny to touch a hot stove when her dad told her not to, her dad might feel that's an inadvisable decision because he doesn’t want to take her to the hospital for second degree burns.” Ted bumped his shoulder against Carrie’s. “This was not one of those situations." He paused for a long breath. "The truth is, kiddo, I am scared to go back to London because…because…” His voice faltered.

“Because of Rebecca Welton,” Carrie said in a voice so small, Ted thought he might’ve imagined it.

“What did you say?” Ted asked.

Carrie cleared her throat and said louder, “You’re afraid to go to London because Rebecca Welton lives there, right?”

“How…” Ted was truly at a loss for words. “How do you know about Rebecca?” Just saying the name out loud sent him into a free fall, his stomach doing a funny flip like he was going over the steep side of a roller coaster.

Carrie heaved a huge sigh and flung herself onto her back on the ground, covering her face with both hands. “This wasn’t the plan,” she mumbled into her palms.

“Honey, I’m gonna need you to do a lot more talkin’ and a lot less cryptic grumblin', okay? Tell me what’s goin' on.” His mind was racing with possibilities. Had her mother said something to her? Ted had precious few things from that period of his life, but had she found something while snooping?

“Okay. The whole reason I told you I wanted to go to London was because my best friend Ellie lives there, right?”

“I remember,” he said, a little impatiently.

“And I told you that she and I had so much in common?”

“I’m not connectin’ the dots here, kiddo, you gotta help me out.”

“Okay…Rebecca Welton is Ellie’s mother.”

“Huh,” Ted said, his mouth suddenly very dry, “What a small world…”

“And getting smaller,” Carrie whispered.

“How d’ya mean?”

Carrie pushed herself up and turned her body to face him, sitting on her knees and holding his gaze very intensely. She placed her hands on his knees as if to steady him. “Daddy. I think Ellie is my half-sister. Your daughter.”

Ted blanched. It was as though every drop of blood had drained from him. He felt distant, detached, like he was drifting away from his own body.

If Rebecca had gotten pregnant with his – their – child, surely she would have told him. She would’ve called him. Sent a letter. A carrier pigeon. A telegram. Anything. He would’ve come running. He wouldn’t have spent eleven years not knowing there was a little girl out there created from half of him and half of Rebecca. Carrie wouldn’t have gone her whole life without a sister, the thing she’d always wanted the most but he couldn't give her.

No. It wasn’t possible.

“Earth to dad.” Ted became aware that Carrie was leaning forward and shaking his shoulders. “You still with me?”

“There’s no way,” he tried desperately to rationalize it. But it wasn’t impossible. They’d been, frankly, insatiable and, in hindsight, more than a little careless. “How can you be sure?”

“Well…I’m not technically sure. But-” Carrie dug her hand into her back pocket and retrieved a couple of slightly bent Polaroid photos. “Look.” She handed them to Ted who took them, curious what evidence they might contain.

The first was a photo of Carrie with her arm around another girl’s shoulder, doing bunny ears over her head. Ted examined it closely and his heart jumped a little as he took her in. She was Rebecca in miniature, no doubt about that, already a little taller than Carrie with long blonde hair and regal posture. But her smile, her eyes were practically identical to Carrie. A stranger would easily have mistaken the girls for twins. Hell, Ted wasn’t even a stranger and, momentarily forgetting how biology worked, wondered if they might’ve been twins.

Was he seeing the face of his daughter, his daughters together, for the very first time?

He placed that photo beneath the second one she’d handed him and he nearly dropped it as his brain processed what his eyes were seeing. It was a photograph of a hand-sketched image. Even on the small and slightly overexposed Polaroid, he couldn’t mistake the Queen Elizabeth 2 logo or that the drawing was of him.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Rebecca had commanded him as she’d wriggled free from the place she’d been curled into his side. She wore nothing but one of his shirts and somehow, with the way she'd haphazardly buttoned it, it was better to him than lingerie. He fought an instinct to pull her back into bed, to make sure neither of them ever moved from this bed or left this room again. “Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot to pack my sketchbook,” she muttered as she searched around the room, finally locating the complimentary notepad and a pencil, which she retrieved and returned to the bed, sitting on the opposite side from him. “This lighting is perfect,” she said, quite pleased, pressing the pencil to the pad.

He regarded how her lashes fluttered as her eyes moved from him to the paper and back, how her nose scrunched up in concentration, how her hand flowed across the page.

“You’re perfect,” he said, almost subconsciously.

“Don’t you start,” she warned, her voice low and cautioning.

Ted muscled his way out before he got swallowed up by the memory. “Ellie had this?”

“She found it hidden in a drawer in her mom’s room.”

Rebecca had held onto the sketch all these long years. What was he supposed to make of that?

“I mean this is crazy, isn’t it? It’s like fate or destiny or something. And even if it turns out there’s a different explanation, shouldn’t we at least go to be 100% sure?” Carrie pleaded.

Heart pounding, head spinning, Ted stared up at the sky. How many times had he thought about going to London to find her? It was no wonder his marriage had fallen apart – his heart had never been in it. He’d left it in London, with her.

He owed it to himself, to Carrie, to see what long-lost pieces of himself he could salvage.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Give me one week. I need time to make some arrangements at work and to get our travel situated. But I need you to do somethin' for me.”

Carrie’s eyes were round saucers, full of anticipation and hope. Whatever happened to him, he would do everything in his power to make sure Carrie was spared from the fallout. He couldn’t bear to see her get hurt. “I need you to call your friend,” he kept himself from saying sister, “and tell her to let her mother know we’re coming. I don’t want any surprise reunions, okay?”

“I can do that.”

Ted, of course, didn’t see that behind her back, her index and middle finger were crossed one over the other.

Chapter Text

Ted’s memories of that summer 11 years ago were, for the most part, so razor sharp he had to actively choose not to remember them for fear of cutting himself. The one part that was murky was leaving, as if he’d been sucked into the ground on his way to Heathrow and spat back out in California none the wiser.

That certainly wasn’t how he felt going back the other direction.

The day of the flight arrived and he still hadn’t packed, part of him expecting the rug to get pulled out from under him. Their plane from Napa to LAX didn’t leave until the afternoon and he’d done absolutely nothing to prepare. Dread swelled in him, rendered him unable to do anything beyond sit on the edge of his bed and stare at his empty suitcase.

A knock on Ted’s door pulled his gaze back into focus. “Yeah?” he called.

The door opened and Roy stepped in. “Has it been so long since you’ve gone on a trip you’ve forgotten how to pack a fucking suitcase?”

Ted tried to think of a retort, but he came up empty. “I’m not sure I can do this, Roy.”

“My countrymen may be less puritanical than you Americans, but they do tend to like it when you wear trousers, so maybe start there.”

“Not that. The whole trip. Even if–” he swallowed, “Even if this girl is mine…” He’d spent most of the past week trying to convince himself she wasn’t. “Rebecca didn’t tell me about her for a reason. What right do I have to barge into their lives and mess things up?”

“You want to know something?”

“...maybe?”

“When I first met you, you were the saddest little worm of a man I'd ever seen and that's saying something. It was fucking pathetic. Made me a little sick if I’m being honest. You know what’s changed in the twelve years since?”

“What?”

“Fucking nothing. When the little punk isn’t buzzing around, I can’t think of one time you've been happy.”

The words hit him like he was Wile E. Coyote getting an anvil dropped on his head.

“Whatever the fuck happened to you in London – and I don’t want to know –” he said as Ted opened his mouth, “This is your chance to fucking fix it or make peace with it or murder it in a back alley. You’re never going to be able to move on until you do.”

Ted ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and sighed. “Roy. Would you come to London with us?”

Roy narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. Before he could speak, Ted continued, “I’ll buy everything - plane tickets, hotel, food. And not as our housekeeper either, just as a–”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

“–friend,” Ted finished.

Roy made a noise that sounded like a slow, low growl from somewhere deep in his chest. “Fine,” he muttered. “But this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“Whatever you say, Roy,” Ted said with a smirk.

“If you haven’t finished packing in the next hour, I’m putting you in that suitcase and you’ll be lucky if you’re in one piece,” Roy intoned as he stomped out the door.

***

It was possible Ted was a little drunker than he’d meant to be by the time they touched ground at Heathrow. He’d done his best to spread the alcohol out across the 11-hour flight from LAX, but he ended up sleeping less and drinking more than he’d initially intended.

“Cheerio to ol’ Londontown,” he said, a bit too loudly, in a truly horrific impression of a British accent as they stepped out of the airport to get a cab. He saw Roy and Carrie share a silent look out of the corner of his eye and more than a few passersby roll their eyes and mutter something that sounded like bloody Americans, but with whiskey thrumming through his veins, he didn’t particularly care.

They hailed a cab to take them to central London. He’d called up the owner of the Rosewood, a long-time client, who’d managed to pull some strings to get them booked in for the week of their stay. Carrie had told Ted that Ellie and her mother would be joining them there for afternoon tea in a few days.

Until then, the city was theirs to explore. The anticipation of afternoon tea lingered ever in the back of his mind but it was easier to ignore with a full itinerary of blatantly touristy activities, none of which Ted had seen during his first trip here. They visited the Natural History Museum – a real highlight for Carrie who loved Jurassic Park and was delirious with excitement about seeing dinosaur skeletons and fossils – Covent Garden, the Tower of London – this one, tragically dinosaur-less, bore Carrie to tears – and Hyde Park. Ted fought through a vicious cocktail of anxiety, jet lag, and ever-growing foot pain to keep up with Carrie’s bouncy, energetic joie de vivre.

Time marched ever forward and before he knew it, the fateful day arrived. The day that, no matter the outcome, was going to change his life forever. Even if it all turned out to be a misunderstanding and Ellie wasn’t his child at all, in both her presence and her absence, Rebecca had a way of shaking his very foundations.

The night before, he asked Roy if he wouldn’t mind watching Carrie in the morning and joining them for tea though he was under no obligation to do either, but Roy cantankerously agreed to both.

Ted only achieved a few hours of fitful sleep and eventually gave up trying. In the pre-dawn hours, he quietly rose from bed and changed, tucking a red Oxford into a belted pair of light wash jeans. He wrote a quick note on the hotel stationery to let Carrie know he’d be back before tea and that Roy would look after her until then.

London was a little magical at this hour, placid and still, no throngs of people moving from place to place and hardly a car on the street. Ted ambled down past the Strand until he reached the Thames and set foot across Waterloo Bridge as the sun rose, drenching the water in deep reds and oranges.

He tried not to think of the mornings the sun had risen before he and Rebecca had ever gone to sleep. He tried not to think about the ones where he’d woken with her wrapped in his arms, convinced he must be dreaming still. He tried desperately not to think about how he’d felt like the luckiest man in the world getting to start his day seeing her face, which was somehow lovelier every time he looked at it.

He wondered what she looked like now. It was damn near impossible to imagine her any more beautiful than she had been, and yet, when he thought about her aging – the deepening of the lines around her smile, the scrunch of her nose when she really laughed, the wrinkle of her forehead when she raised a judgmental brow – made his heart quiver.

How was he going to see her and not fall in love with her all over again?

Well, he thought, to fall in love with someone you have to not be in love with them to begin with.

After a few hours, Ted wandered back to the hotel, stopping for coffee on the way back. As he exited the café, he spotted an older man setting up a flower stall. Ted hurried across the street, remembering at the last moment he needed to look to the right first, and swept his eyes over the rainbow explosion of flowers. “Howdy,” he called to the man who looked only momentarily taken aback by the unusual greeting.

“Good day, sir. Are you lost?”

“Mentally, spiritually, emotionally? Yes. Physically? No.” The man gave a sympathetic nod. “Actually, I’d love to purchase some flowers, but I am overwhelmed by choice.”

“Ah! My first customer of the day,” the man said excitedly, “Well, let’s see. Are these for yourself or for a special someone?”

“A…a very special someone, actually.”

The man's face lit up even more with a twinkling smile. “And is there an occasion?”

“Yes? I guess you’d call it a reunion of sorts.”

“You’ve come at an excellent time.” The man gestured to a bright yellow patch of flowers at the front of his cart. “I’ve just harvested the first sunflowers of the season. I can guarantee these will be gone within an hour so you’re lucky to be here as early as you are.”

Ted looked over the sunflowers and smiled. “You grew these yourself?” The man nodded. “They’re beautiful.”

“The French word for them is tournesol,” the man eyed him to see if this meant anything to Ted. It clearly didn’t, so he continued, “It means ‘turned sun.’ When sunflowers are young, they are closed up, but as they grow, they eventually open up and turn to face the sun, reflecting its face back at it.”

Shoot. It that wasn't just how Rebecca had made him feel. Open to the sun for the first time in his life, but he'd thrown it all away.

“Well, I’m sold.”

The man took a few minutes to arrange a bouquet of sunflowers, interspersed with some green stalks and Queen Anne’s lace, which he wrapped in brown paper and handed to Ted like a swaddled baby.

If Ted hadn’t been so lost in his thoughts when he finally returned to the hotel, he might’ve noticed a blonde woman emerging from a parked Rolls Royce but instead, he walked straight through the doors.

Upon entering, he dug around in his pockets to locate his room key and muttered a little shoot as he realized it wasn’t there. He did a quick 360 turn, his eyes scanning the ground, to make sure he hadn’t dropped it on his way in. Hopefully, he’d left it in his room and not dropped it on a London street somewhere. Not wanting to go all the way up to the room only to discover Roy and Carrie weren’t in it, he turned on a heel and marched over to the front desk.

“Howdy!” he said to the young woman attending it.

“Good morning, Mr. Lasso,” she greeted him coolly. “How may I help you?”

“I am at present locked out of my room. Hopin' you might be able to get me a replacement key?”

“Of course, Mr. Lasso." She typed something into the computer.

At the other end of the desk, he noticed a younger man checking in. The man was looking around, mouth agape, apparently somewhat awestruck by the hotel. As the attendant slid a couple of keys across the desk, he took them like he was being handed an Academy Award before he wandered off.

A few moments later, Ted received his own key and turned to head upstairs. As he approached, he noticed one set of elevator doors stood open.

He nearly called out to ask the occupants to hold the door, but the words died on his lips.

The couple in the elevator were caught up in something of an intimate moment. The man he’d just seen at the front desk was resting his hands on a woman’s hips, squeezing her to his body. The woman wore heels so tall just looking at them made Ted’s ankles wobble, and a form-hugging strappy black dress that proudly displayed the curve of her body. Ted didn’t mean to ogle, but it was hard not to. The couple pivoted slightly so the man’s back turned towards Ted, the woman smirking as he pressed kisses along her neck.

Ted suddenly felt woozy, so light a feather could knock him over. He clutched the bouquet tight to his chest, unable to move or look away.

Of course it was Rebecca.

Though he’d made no sound, he might as well have shouted her name the way her eyes flicked upward over the man’s shoulder and immediately found Ted’s gaze.

Her expression changed from one of amusement to unadulterated, unbridled shock as the elevator door started to close.

There were a million things he could’ve done in that moment, but all he did was smile and give her a demure little wave.

Rebecca, no longer paying the slightest mind to the man canoodling her (yuck), leaned further and further to the side until she was one degree away from falling over to keep her eyes on Ted through the open space of the elevator doors until they shut completely.

That was not the face of someone who was expecting to see him.

Ted waited for half a beat until he saw the dial indicating that it was moving upward, and then walked over and excessively mashed the up button. He slammed the number for his floor and leaned against the elevator wall, kicking his heel against it as he waited impatiently for the doors to open again.

Once they did, he stormed down the hall. As he started pushing the door open, he said irately, “Caroline Lasso, you had better be in here because you’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do–”

He stopped in his tracks as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Not one but two blonde-headed girls were seated on the suite’s sitting room sofa. Both of them popped up nervously at exactly the same moment, wearing the same guilty expression.

His eyes flicked to Roy who was sitting in a chair opposite them, a copy of Anna Karenina sitting unopened on his lap, his fingers steepled in front of his lips.

The girls looked at Roy, seeking some kind of encouragement from him, and he gave them a tiny nod.

“Dad,” Carrie started, “This…This is Ellie Welton. And Ellie, this is my dad, Ted Lasso.”

Their resemblance was even more striking in person than it had been in the photo. It nearly made his knees buckle as it really, really hit him that all those similarities he saw between the two of them were actually all the parts of himself he saw reflected in Carrie.

Ted was still standing frozen in the doorway, the sunflowers hanging limply at his side. Ellie, the poor thing, looked like Bambi after he realized his mother was no longer running behind him. Ted softened, suddenly seized by a strong compulsion to tell her that everything was going to be alright.

He set the flowers on the entryway table and stepped cautiously forward, worrying Ellie might scamper off if he approached too quickly. “Hi Ellie. Sorry for the uh…yellin’. Not my traditional greetin', I promise.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lasso.”

“Call me Ted.” Was that weird? “Or…or actually, call me nothing. You don’t need to refer to me by name, title, or otherwise. Unless it’s Esquire because I always thought that sounded kinda funny. Why don’t you girls have a seat. I think it’s time for all of us to get on the same page.” Ted pulled a chair over so he was seated directly across from the girls on the sofa. He tried to meet their eyes but they averted their gaze, suddenly very interested in their hands and feet. “Someone wanna clue me in?”

Ellie nudged Carrie with her knee and Carrie cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I lied to you. We didn’t tell Ellie’s mom we were coming.”

“Explains her reaction.”

“You…You saw her already?” Ellie gulped.

“Yes. And she looked at me how I imagine she’d look if she saw Margaret Thatcher – shocked, horrified, and slightly murderous. Not my favorite way to be looked at, I must admit”

“Oh no.” Ellie buried her face in her hands. “She’s going to kill me.”

“There’s something else you need to know,” Carrie, who was chewing her bottom lip ragged, continued, “Dad. Rebecca is getting married. Here at this hotel. In two days.”

Ted wasn’t sure how much more of a beating his heart could take. This was going to send him into an early grave, he was sure of it. That man who’d been hanging on Rebecca like a leech was her fiancé? .

“They can’t get married,” Ellie exclaimed, “I’ve had to spend so much time with him over the past two weeks. I’m quite sure he’s only really interested in her because she’s rich and he thinks being with her will be good for his career. He’s dreadfully dull. They have absolutely nothing in common. And,” she had to pause to take a deep breath, “And the worst part is, I don’t even think she’s in love with him. I don’t know why she’s doing it, but if she goes through with it, it will be a complete and utter disaster.”

Ted sat there in silence as he took all of this in. It was difficult to parse the truth of her words; she was extremely biased and obviously upset about changes in her life that were out of her control. He’d sat through many of Carrie’s similar emotional outbursts when Ted and her mother were splitting up.

On the other hand, the irrational part of his brain thought she made a pretty compelling argument.

“Please, dad. You have to do something,” Carrie pleaded.

“Ellie, it’s okay to be upset about this. Big changes, especially ones we don’t have any control over, are hard and scary. And I’m sorry if I’m stepping out of line by saying this because I realize we’ve known one another for all of about three minutes, but,” he directed his next words at both of them, “it’s not okay to lie and scheme and trick people because you’re upset. Okay?” Both girls somberly nodded. “You’re not gonna like to hear this, but it isn’t my place to interfere with Rebecca’s...life.” As much as he would really, really like to. “I’m not Julia Roberts, she’s not Dermott Mulroney, and this isn’t My Best Friend’s Wedding.” Ellie’s face fell. “Your mother is a grown-up. I’m sure she’s making the right decision for her even if the rest of us don’t fully understand it.”

Ted hoped that by explaining it to the girls, he might be able to convince himself that it was true. But, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to knock on every door of the hotel until he found Rebecca and tell her she was being an idiot. That he was objecting to their union. That it was him she should be…

But wasn’t he looking at the evidence that she didn’t want him in her life? Learning about Ellie was not something Rebecca had chosen, just a completely unpredictable coincidence. Whatever flame Ted still kindled in his heart for her, it clearly wasn’t reciprocated. He was going to have to learn to let go.

“And speaking of your mother, she’s probably wondering where you are, so let’s get you back to her.”

“I…I don’t know what room she’s in. I came here right after we arrived.”

Ted sighed. Rebecca was probably tearing the hotel apart trying to find her daughter. “Alright. Why don’t you and I go down to the lobby and talk to the nice employee at the front desk while you, young lady,” he said to Carrie, “can think about what you’ve done and how you’re going to make it right.” Carrie had the good graces to at least look remorseful. She and Ellie shared a brief hug before Ted reluctantly grabbed the flowers off the table, opened the door, and gestured for Ellie to lead the way.

They traveled down to the lobby in relative silence. Ellie seemed defeated; clearly none of this had gone according to her plan so far.

He felt such a strong paternal instinct towards her, it was practically unbearable. The last thing he wanted to do was overstep. Even if she was his (and the ‘if’ part of that was shrinking exponentially quickly), he didn’t want to accidentally form some kind of bond between them that Rebecca wouldn’t want.

The elevator dinged and the doors rolled open to reveal the grand lobby. Ted followed Ellie out, looking around to see if Rebecca had beaten them to the punch. Not seeing her, he placed a gentle hand between Ellie’s shoulder blades and guided her to the front desk.

The young attendant smiled as they approached but before Ted could speak, a familiar voice called from behind them, “Penelope?”

Several things happened at once.

First, Rebecca’s voice struck him like lightning. It was maybe a bit lower than he remembered, but its resonance touched the same chord in him that it always had.

Second, he didn’t understand at first why she would be shouting ‘Penelope’ until it hit him that Ellie must’ve been a nickname. For Penelope.

Penelope?

And third, Ted and Ellie turned around in unison and whatever tableau Rebecca saw stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh, fuck me,” she said.

Rebecca could hardly believe any of this was real.

Was it possible that two weeks ago, instead of picking up the phone to ask Keeley to meet her at the Crown & Anchor, she’d actually gone to bed and everything that had happened since was only a nightmare?

What other explanation could there be besides the incomprehensible logic of dreams for Ted fucking Lasso to be standing there, next to her – his – their daughter?

If the glimpse of him she’d seen from the elevator left any room for doubt, it was gone now. It was him. With his same bloody mustache.

And, fuck, he was more handsome than she remembered.

What was she even supposed to say at a moment like this?

‘Hi, Ted. Gosh, what's in been now? Twelve years? That is an awfully long time. I see you’ve somehow met your daughter whose existence I never told you about for some fucking emotional reason that will never be enough to justify the fact that you’ve missed out on over a decade of her life. Want to go grab some fucking sandwiches?’

But all she said was, “Oh, fuck me.”

Eloquent as ever.

She pressed two fingers to her mouth as if trying to snatch the words back. “Sorry,” she attempted a casual chuckle, “Ted Lasso, is that really you? What…what a small world.” Rebecca tentatively stepped toward them.

“Lot of that ‘small world’ stuff going around these days.” Rebecca furrowed a brow at this remark, but Ted smiled that disarming smile back at her. He closed the distance with her until they were close enough that if they reached out their arms, their fingertips would just brush. “Rebecca. It’s…been a long time, huh?”

“Quite…I see you’ve located my daughter who has become something of a magician lately with all the vanishing acts she’s performing.”

“Sorry, mum.” Was Rebecca losing it or was her daughter attempting to hide behind Ted?

“I’m getting the feeling that there is something going on here that I’m not party to,” Rebecca swallowed, nervousness creeping up her spine.

Ted seemed to follow her line of sight and cleared his throat, “Yeah, listen, Rebecca, you and I have both become victims of a good ol' fashioned hoodwink.”

Ellie sheepishly averted Rebecca’s gaze. “Pardon?”

“I think a lot of this will be easier to swallow with a booze chaser, if you have some time?”

Within two minutes of seeing him for the first time in 12 years, Ted was already asking her to get a drink with him. Go figure.

Rebecca checked her watch, knowing full well she had the time. “Ellie, I think I’m probably angry with you though I’m not entirely sure why yet. Take this.” Rebecca handed her a room key from her bag. “And go straight to our room. Keeley will be there. If you see Luca...” She did her best to keep her eyes from flicking to Ted. “Tell him I’ll be back soon.”

Ellie nodded. Ted waved goodbye to her, “It was really great to meet ya, Ellie.”

“Goodbye, Mis…Te…Esquire. It was nice to meet you, too.” And she scrambled away.

They stood stock still for a long moment, silent and staring. Rebecca expected to wake up from a dream at any second. There was no way this was actually happening.

It was Ted who cracked through the silence, of course. "I...Uh...Got these for you," he said, blushing and nervous. Ted lifted the bouquet, a gorgeous arrangement of sunflowers that made her heart flutter in her chest.

"That's..." Tears were burning the backs of her eyes. Ted was here. In London. And he had bought her flowers when she was the one who...Fuck. "Thank you, Ted. They're beautiful." Rebecca closed the distance between them. She accepted the bouquet, their fingers touching, but Ted didn't let go for what felt like an eternity. Unable to bear the softness in his gaze, she broke eye contact. "Shall we get that drink?"

Rebecca followed Ted to the bar which was unsurprisingly but blessedly quite empty as it wasn’t even noon yet.

They each ordered a drink – Rebecca, a martini; Ted, whiskey, neat – and sat in uncomfortable silence.

Eventually, it became too much for Rebecca to handle. “Alright. What trap have we unexpectedly walked into?”

“I wanna preface this by sayin’ that as you decide how to react, just know your daughter had a Thelma to her Louise, a Butch Cassidy to her Sundance Kid, a–

“Ted.” Rebecca couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Sorry. She had a co-conspirator: my daughter.”

His daughter. Rebecca miraculously did not let her composure slip.

“How on earth–”

“Ah. Seems you and I are two peas in a pod because, as fate would have it, we sent our girls to the same summer camp. And through some whacky and mildly criminal behavior…” Ted paused. “Huh, I’m startin’ to notice a worryin’ trend here. Anyway, they discovered we were…connected because Ellie has that sketch you drew of yours truly back on the QE2?”

Rebecca took a big sip of her martini to try and cover the flush crawling up her cheeks. There was nothing untoward about the drawing, but to Rebecca, it was terribly revealing and intimate all the same, proof her hands had known the way she felt about Ted before her mind did. “Christ. Ellie has hardly ever broken a single rule in her whole life and suddenly she’s Bonnie fucking Parker.”

“There’s more.” Rebecca took another swig. “Your upcoming nuptials seem to have shaken Ellie up a bit.” Rebecca was almost certain his eye had twitched when he said nuptials. “They had it in their heads that I’d be able to stop it somehow.”

Rebecca’s breath hitched in her chest. “And…is that why you came?”

“No!” Ted said quickly. Rebecca tried to ignore the tiny part of her that was disappointed by that. “I had no idea you were…you know…until about twenty minutes ago.” It didn’t escape her notice how he avoided saying the words ‘getting married.’ “I’m here because…I’m here to…” Ted knocked back a bit of whiskey apparently to buy him time. “Carrie and Ellie have this theory that I’m…that Ellie is…”

Rebecca’s heart sank. She’d been too much of a coward to tell either of them the truth, and yet they’d come to it anyway without her involvement at all.

Her grip around the martini glass tightened as the events of the past several weeks started to click into place. Ellie's uncharacteristically erratic behavior suddenly made much more sense. And then right on the heels of the past several weeks were the past several years, twelve of them to be exact. They stacked on top of her one by one until she was buried beneath their suffocating, bone-breaking weight. From the moment she’d chucked the pregnancy test in the loo after catching only a glimpse of the blue strip right up to now, she had chosen selfishness every single fucking day.

“Oh, I am such a fucking bitch,” Rebecca sighed under her breath. Ted opened his mouth, almost certainly about to endearingly admonish her for her negative self-talk, something he absolutely shouldn’t be doing all things considered, so she cut him off at the pass. “Listen, Ted–”

“There you are, beautiful!” Rebecca and Ted jumped in unison as a man, dressed in a fluffy white hotel bathrobe, came up from behind them and circled his arms around Rebecca’s waist.

Ted watched as Rebecca attempted, poorly, to disguise her distress with a smile that fell far short of her eyes. The man – Luca, Ted presumed – hardly seemed to notice, much to Ted’s chagrin.

He turned his head away as Luca started kissing her exposed shoulders, her neck, her lips, worried that seeing it might make him sicker than he already felt. Rebecca flattened her palm on Luca’s chest to halt the barrage. Luca finally seemed to notice Ted’s presence. “This guy chatting you up?”

“No. And even if he were, I assure you I don’t need you to defend my honor,” she added humorlessly. “Luca, this is an old friend of mine, Ted Lasso. Ted, this is my…fiancé, Luca.” Ted noticed her voice was a little higher than usual as she forced some enthusiasm into her words.

Ted outstretched his hand and exchanged a firm handshake with Luca.

It was the first time Ted had really looked at him. The first thing he noticed was Luca’s age, or rather, lack thereof. Rebecca, you dog, he thought, amused, and a bit sardonic.

Hadn’t Ellie said she thought Luca was only interested in Rebecca because it would be good for his career? It didn’t even take an educated guess to think he was probably a model, then. He had the kind of generic, conventionally attractive face of a person you’d see in an Abercrombie catalogue. Even in spite of the bathrobe, Ted could tell he had 0% body fat. He was all sharp angles with perfect, shark-like teeth and perfect hair gelled into the trendiest style.

Ted was almost impressed by how absolutely unremarkable he was.

Ellie’s argument was starting to sound a heck of a lot more like the winning one.

Rebecca raised a single eyebrow, “Luca, why are you in a dressing gown?”

“I’ve booked a spa appointment so I put on the robe?” he said, like this should’ve been obvious to everyone.

“I’m quite sure they will give you one while you’re there, but, sure. Carpe diem.” She gave him a pat on the forearm.

Ted sipped his whiskey to keep himself from laughing.

Luca leaned down and gave Rebecca another excessively immodest kiss before he ambled away.

Ted, trying to hide his amusement, caught Rebecca’s gaze.

“Don’t,” she said shortly.

“I didn’t say a word,” he replied.

As Ted tried to think of a way to ease back into their earlier conversation, another voice, one he didn’t recognize, cut through his thoughts.

“Drinking in the afternoon without me, babe?”

Ted turned to see a young woman in a cream-colored oversized suit jacket, matching shorts, and blinding white trainers walking arm in arm with a smiling Ellie, who was only a few inches shorter than her.

A look Ted couldn’t quite read – maybe nervousness? – passed over Rebecca’s face before a smile, a real one this time, painted over it.

“What are you girls doing down here?” she asked.

“While for you it’s apparently happy hour, for the rest of us it’s lunchtime.” She turned her attention to Ted. “Hi. You must be Ted. Ellie was just telling me about you. I’m Keeley.” She held out a hand for him to shake.

“Howdy, Keeley. I like your name.” He took Keeley’s hand and shook it. When Ted tried to take his hand back, Keeley held onto it and kept shaking it limply. Her eyes traveled from Ted to Rebecca to Ellie and back again before she finally let go.

“And I like your smile, Ted.”

“Keeley is my very best friend. She also works with me. I hired her as my assistant six years ago and she weaseled her way into our hearts. Keeley’s the entire reason my label has had any success. Business people find me far too abrasive.”

“Fuck, Rebecca, you shouldn’t compliment me this much when I’m hungry. I might pass out and die right here.”

From the corner of his eye, Ted saw two more figures approaching. The hulking, umbral void they called Roy with Carrie trailing in his shadow.

“Hey, guys!” Ted waved them over. Roy, spotting the group, stopped and started to change directions but Carrie caught his arm and yanked him toward their little cluster. “Alright, who has yet to meet who?” Carrie’s stare was fixed on Rebecca, looking at her like she’d just spotted a celebrity. “Rebecca, I want you to meet my daughter, Carrie.”

Rebecca slipped off the stool and met Carrie at eye level, giving her a glowing smile. That look warmed Ted’s heart. And the way the fabric of her dress shifted and bunched as she moved warmed something else. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Carrie. Someone this special to my daughter must be a very special person.” Rebecca stood upright. “And this is my best friend, Keeley.”

Keeley waved to Carrie. “Hi, cutie.”

Ted gestured to Roy, but before he could speak Keeley’s eyes fell on him.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No,” Roy replied bluntly.

“You are definitely familiar–”

“I’m not,” he said again.

“This,” Ted interrupted, knowing this exchange had the potential to go on forever, “is Roy. He works with me back home, but he’s here as a friend.” This got a derisive growl out of Roy. “And he’s also proof that it's not just a cautionary tale when your parents tell you not to frown too much because your face will actually get stuck like that.” Ellie and Carrie both giggled behind their hands at this. It did something to his heart to see their identical gestures.

“Oh my God,” Keeley said, snapping her fingers, “You’re Roy Kent. You played for Chelsea when I was a t–” Keeley bit her tongue, “back in the 80s.”

“And fucking what about it?”

Keeley, clearly unintimidated by Roy’s scary dog act, stepped closer to him and panned her eyes over his entire body. “You’re like one of English football’s biggest mysteries. I guess you’re alive and well, then.”

“If you say so, Tinkerbell.” Was Roy…smirking?

He caught Rebecca’s eye and they exchanged a knowing look.

“Well, Carrie and Roy. Want to join me and Ellie for lunch? You two can come, as well.”

“Ted and I need to finish a conversation, but…how about I take us all out for dinner in town tonight?”

There were murmurs of agreement around the circle before they split apart.

Rebecca returned to her seat. Once they were alone again, Rebecca melted into the bar until her forehead touched the marble. It was maddening how endearing it was to him.

Finally, she pushed herself up and sighed, “Right. No more beating around the bush. Just be a big girl and fucking say it.” Ted politely looked away as she performed this little soliloquy for herself. “Ted, I think you know we have terribly bright children, though perhaps not as wise as they think they are.” Ted’s entire body stilled, afraid that one wrong move and Rebecca would run. “But you don’t even need to be that smart to...I mean, fuck, she looks just like you.” Rebecca turned to face him, her eyes glistening as they caught the light. “She always has.”

Ted’s entire spirit roiled in his body. He’d known, but he hadn’t let himself really believe it. As it washed over him, an impossible tangle of elation, resentment, regret, and heartache butted up against one another in his mind, fighting for dominance.

Rebecca, using a cocktail napkin to dab at her eyes, continued, “I owe you an explanation. And a lot of fucking answers. And...and we'll have to decide what to do next. But before any of that, I need to tell Ellie the truth. I…I hope you can understand that.”

“Of course,” Ted said, quiet and cracked.

“After dinner tonight. We’ll talk.”

“After dinner,” Ted agreed, scarcely able to breathe.

Chapter Text

1986

Rebecca woke with a corona of pain haloing her skull. The morning sun’s soft glow might as well have been a strobe light and that was before she’d even opened her eyes. She started to pull the duvet up over her head to go back to sleep.

But was that coffee she smelled?

The scent was tantalizing enough for her to crack one tentative eye open. She sat up ramrod straight when she spotted another figure in the room, standing over the coffee machine in a white undershirt and boxers. Ted. Right. The sudden change in position sent lances of pain across her skull and she groaned in pain.

“You too, huh? You think I’d know by now that thirty-something Ted is not twenty-something Ted. Hopefully a little caffeine will do us some good.”

“You’re still here.” Rebecca stifled a yawn and attempted to comb her fingers through her hair, but they got caught in a mess of tangles and frizz. She suddenly realized she must look a complete fright, and even more horrifyingly, that she was still completely naked under the duvet. “Fuck,” she muttered, her eyes tearing around the room for any article of clothing in arm’s reach, but all she saw were her knickers draped over the lampshade on her bedside table.

Despite the fact that she’d fucked Ted last night, more than once, the whole scenario felt oddly embarrassing in the stark morning light. Rebecca did not do sleepovers for this very reason.

Ted, apparently noticing her scanning the room, said a little shyly, “Oh, uh…here ya go,” as he retrieved the button-down shirt he’d worn beneath his sweater from the floor and tossed it over to her. “And sorry for the accidental sleepover." He politely turned away from her so she could change. “I guess round three was a real K.O.”

“Jesus Christ.” Rebecca’s face burned and she gave up attempting to button the shirt, simply pulling it closed and squeezing herself past Ted to get to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Her reflection revealed makeup smeared across her face and bits of hair stuck up in all directions. And was that a hickey blooming across her collarbone?

She looked like a fucking horror show. She scrubbed the makeup off, wrestled her hair into a low knot, brushed her teeth, and, not sure she wanted him to see her with a completely bare face, added a touch of mascara to her eyelashes. She exhaled and slipped back out into the small room.

Ted was seated in the chair opposite the bed and gestured to the mug he’d left for her on the dresser. Rebecca picked it up and hovered there. They sipped their coffee quietly, both of them trying to look anywhere except at each other.

Finally, Rebecca broke the silence. “Listen, Ted–”

“I know I’ve overstayed my welcome. You don’t need to feel bad about kickin’ me out,” he interrupted.

“Oh, I don’t feel bad,” she said simply, “I wanted to say l had…fun last night.”

“Ditto.”

“And that I wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat performance. If you were amenable, of course.”

Ted blushed a little. “I’m amenable.”

“But I want to be clear with you that I’m not looking for anything...more.”

“I get it,” he replied neutrally.

“Excellent. Here’s what I propose: while we’re on board, there’s no obligations or attachments between us. We’re both at liberty to do whatever we want with whomever we want. And when we dock, we go our separate ways.”

“What happens at sea stays at sea?” Ted gave humorless smile.

“Precisely.” Rebecca nodded. “And I don’t think we should get in the habit of sleeping over either.”

“My loss, I guess, because you look truly radiant this morning.” Rebecca rolled her eyes, assuming he must be having her on, but Ted’s expression was unbearably earnest.

“None of that, either.”

“None of what?”

“The compliments.”

“Unfortunately that’s a dealbreaker for me.”

Rebecca drummed her manicured fingers on the dresser. “Fine. Deal.” Rebecca stepped forward and extended a hand to Ted.

Ted clasped her hand and gave it a firm shake, but he let his touch linger. “About those ‘repeat performances’... Got anything on your schedule, say, right now? Because I’m gonna be honest, you wearin’ my shirt like that is makin’ me a little crazy.” He grinned up at her.

Rebecca’s eyes danced across his boxers and saw what he meant.

***

Despite Rebecca’s insistence that she and Ted should be free to spend their time with whomever they wanted, they primarily stayed in one another’s company anyway. Over the next several days, they shared meals, walked laps around the main deck, enjoyed evening drinks at the bar, and made frequent stops to one of their cabins in between.

Rebecca worked hard to keep their conversations light, changing the subject if anything threatened to become too emotional or too revealing. She learned about Ted’s childhood in Kansas and they compared notes about the experience of growing up in America versus Britain. They both loved movie musicals and slasher films in equal measure but had completely different taste in music.

Speaking with him was refreshing. It was fun. It was easy.

She brushed away the dread growing in her mind as she realized that it was all going to come to an end soon.

Two nights before they were due to make port at Southampton, Ted and Rebecca found themselves back in the dining room where they’d first met. After dinner, Ted leaned over to her and said, “Alright, Rebecca, our journey together is nearly at its end.” Rebecca swallowed down the lump in her throat. “And I think that means you owe me a story. Your story, to be exact.”

“Owe you? I’m not sure I ever promised that I would give it.” The smirk she gave him was a wicked thing.

Ted placed his hand on the top of her thigh and pushed his thumb beneath the hem of her dress. “In that case, how about you tell me and I’ll owe you,” he purred. She didn’t find it particularly fair that he could wind her up so easily.

Rebecca caught his hand. “Keep that up and I’m dragging you out of here right now,” she whispered. Ted threw his hands up in surrender, making sure he dragged his fingertips along her leg as he retreated. Rebecca smoothed the fabric of her skirt and crossed her legs, squeezing them together in hopes it might do something to relieve the building pressure between them.

“Alright. A yarn of my own, then.”

“Yarn,” Ted said, emphasizing the ‘r’ sound.

“Yarn,” Rebecca repeated, refusing to drop her rhotic ‘r’.

“You’re saying yawn and that’s the last thing you want people doin’ during a yarn,” Ted teased.

“Do you want to hear it or not?” Rebecca raised a brow.

“Sorry. Sorry. Please, yarn away.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over his knee.

“I suppose it all begins with my parents. My father, Paul, was…kind but he was not one to coddle; he believed everything in his life was hard won, despite the fact that most of it was handed to him by his own father, who’d inherited that from his father, and so on until you go back far enough in the bloodline to the Duke of fucking whatever who started it all.”

“Hang on, you’re telling me you’re descended from a Duke? Does that make you royalty or something?”

“Thanks to inbreeding, I’m quite sure the entire upper echelon of British society are at least third cousins. Welcome to Britain,” she added off Ted’s scandalized look, “Anyway, my mother went along with anything my father wanted as long as it made him happy because, I suppose, that’s just what wives were expected to do. It meant I was a very…independent child.”

Independent was a nicer word than lonely.

“What? Now that is a surprise,” Ted jested.

“Oh hush,” Rebecca admonished. “We had a small family; I was an only child of only children, but my parents were socialites. We were invited to dozens of posh weddings every year. Many children would’ve hated spending hours sitting still in an itchy, starchy dress, but to me, it was like Cinderella was coming to life in front of my very eyes. Everyone was so happy. Each new bride became the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. At home, I would pore over my mother’s fashion magazines and stare for hours at celebrity wedding photos. Liz Taylor, Grace Kelly, Natalie Wood, Princess Margaret. I annoyed my mother to no end by cutting them out of the magazines and tracing over them until I learned to draw them myself.”

Rebecca paused to sip from her wine, casting her eyes over to Ted to make sure she hadn’t lost him. But he was watching her attentively, his eyes sparkling. He gestured for her to continue.

“Obviously, every child believes magic is real. But to me, it was actually real. It wasn’t Santa Claus or fairies, it was love. Romance. Happily ever after. I really believed in it.”

“‘Believed?’ Past tense?”

“As I grew up, I started to see through it all. How many husbands has Liz Taylor had? Grace Kelly died tragically young and her husband has vowed he will never marry again. Natalie Wood was probably murdered by her husband. 300 million people, including me, watched Princess Margaret’s wedding, and then we all watched as they cheated on one another at every turn before they finally got a divorce. None of these fairy tales had happily ever afters.”

“But that’s–”

“Not most people’s reality?” Ted nodded, “I told myself the same thing. My mother said – tragedies aside – that the drama was manufactured for the press. Real, every day people spend their whole lives together all the time. ‘Your father and I will stay together until one of us drops dead,’ she would say. I believed her. My parents weren’t outwardly affectionate, but they were stable and they seemed content with each other’s company. I thought real love must look like that, not a grand spectacle, but a quiet, steady devotion.” Rebecca drank some wine, a little liquid courage to forge ahead with the story, “Well, fast forward to uni. Once I moved out of the house, I rarely returned outside of school holidays.

“One year, I decided to make a surprise visit home for my mother’s birthday. When I arrived, I heard sounds coming from the study, so I followed them, only to find my father, arse in the air, and a woman who was certainly not my mother screaming his name. He saw me, of course, tried to chase after me, but I was gone. Turned around and went back to uni like I’d never been there at all. I didn’t even leave my mother’s gift for her.”

“I’m sorry, Rebecca.”

“My father could scarcely look me in the eye after that. My mother was none the wiser because I was too much of a fucking coward to tell her. I didn’t want to break her heart. And…and she’d built her entire life around him. I knew she’d never leave him. It was the cruelest thing imaginable, I thought, to let someone make you their whole world when they’re just…a speck in yours.”

“Did you ever patch things up with your dad?”

“No. I never forgave him and then he died, the twat.”

Ted reached out and took her hand, mirroring what she’d done the night they met. They sat like that for a moment in wordless understanding.

“I’m sure you’ll think it’s terribly cynical, but after that, I couldn’t understand why someone would want to fall in love. Would you let a murderer into your home, hand them a knife, and show them exactly where to stab you to cut you the deepest?”

Ted leaned back in his chair and released a low whistle. “That is pretty dang cynical,” he assented, “yet I can’t say I completely disagree. But I don’t think it’s the whole truth, either.”

“I suppose I’m not a complete cynic, either. Because now, I design wedding gowns. In fact, I am here today because I just put on my first ever runway show in New York City.”

“What?” Ted sounded genuinely impressed. “Rebecca, that’s incredible. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she said, quite pleased with herself.

“I’d like to see your work. Do you have photos or anything?”

“Of the show? No. But, I bring my sketchbook with me everywhere so if you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll show it to you later.”

Ted laughed bashfully, “Deal. But…if you don’t believe in any of it, why wedding gowns? I mean, you could’ve designed handbags or funky avant-garde hats or something, right?”

Rebecca laughed, “Well, I have done those things. I’ve spent most of my career designing in couture houses. It’s only recently that I struck out on my own. Maybe I chose wedding gowns out of an appreciation for irony. The woman who doesn’t believe in love and marriage exploits people who do for cash.”

“Hey, not a bad business idea. Those things can be pretty expensive, can’t they?”

“Oh, yes.”

“What’s the most expensive one you’ve ever made?” Rebecca leaned forward and whispered in his ear. His eyebrows flew to his hairline and he let out a low whistle. “Well, I’m seeing there is monetary motivation. But I’m guessing there’s more to it than that.”

“Hmm.” She considered his question, realizing nobody had ever cared enough to ask her why. “I remember the first gown I was the lead designer on. I was still in-house so it wasn’t exactly the aesthetic I would’ve chosen for myself, but when I saw how excited the bride was about it…I suppose it reminded me of that magic I used to feel when I was a girl. For her, the belief hadn’t been snuffed out yet. Even if everything goes to shit afterwards, at least they get one magical day where they feel beautiful and special and full of possibility. It might not be a guarantee of ‘happily ever after’, but it is happiness…” The backs of her eyes burned, a lump forming in her throat again. She attempted to banish both with a generous swallow of wine.

Ted was silent for a long moment.

“Rebecca, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think it’s possible you do understand why people fall in love, after all.”

Rebecca and Ted locked eyes. There was something inscrutable about his expression, a rich constellation of softness, pensiveness, reverence, maybe even mournfulness. She thought she’d caught glimpses of it before he quickly tucked it away behind a smile or a laugh, but not this time. Being looked at like that, it disarmed her completely.

“So,” she said, desperate to break the spell before it broke her, “that, I suppose, is my own odyssey. I’ve never told anybody all of that before,” she added, realizing it to be true as she said it. He was the first person she’d ever told about her father.

“I’m honored.” Ted smiled, pressing his palm to his heart. Never before had she desired so badly to be able to read someone’s thoughts. It was a bit uncomfortable to realize she cared what someone else might think of her, especially a man she was sleeping with.

“Shall we go back to the room, then?” she asked, seeking distraction from the heaviness of everything she’d just laid on him.

“Maybe, only…I’ve heard there’s dancing somewhere on this boat. Seems like it’s the one thing we haven’t done yet.”

“And there’s a reason for that. I don’t dance.”

“Oh come on, everyone can dance–”

“I didn’t say ‘can’t,’ I said ‘don’t.’ Very important distinction.”

“Alright. Remember how I owe you now? What if we go dancing and I owe you twice?”

Rebecca playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “Make it thrice and we have a deal.”

They finished their wine and followed a herd of people traveling from the dining room to the ballroom.

Rebecca was surprised to see that it was packed. “I suppose while you’ve been going down on me, everyone else onboard has been getting down on the dance floor,” she whispered cheekily, quirking her brow.

Ted sputtered and Rebecca snorted a laugh. “Okie dokie, then. Shall we?” He offered his arm to her and led them to the floor. A band played from the stage, brass instruments blaring out classic, upbeat songs.

As it turned out, they balanced one another out nicely. What Ted lacked in skill, he made up for in unbridled enthusiasm. Rebecca was a bit stiff and timid, but she led Ted through some traditional steps. To his credit, he caught on to them relatively quickly and his growing confidence was rather infectious. As her body temperature rose, her inhibition fell away and she just let herself have fun as one uptempo song flowed into the next.

Above them, the lights dimmed to a deep blue and a tapestry of fairy lights blinked on, casting the ballroom in a soft glow. Ted and Rebecca broke apart, turning their heads toward the stage. The music slowed as a woman stepped up to the microphone. All around them, couples drew close to one another as the singer’s voice floated out angelically over the speakers.

The first time, ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes…

Bodies orbited around them, but Rebecca and Ted stared at each other like teenagers at a school dance.

Finally, Ted offered his hand to her.

Reluctantly, Rebecca took it.

Ted pulled her toward him until the distance between their bodies closed completely and Rebecca, without really meaning to, softened to his touch. A light smile danced across her lips as she relished in the feeling of his arm wrapped around her torso, the way his fingers splayed out across the small of her back, his warm palm pressed against hers.

The fairy lights twinkled like starlight in his dark eyes. That expression from earlier was back, somehow more clear in the darkness.

Why are you looking at me like that? she wanted to demand, but she stayed silent.

Ted released her hand and slowly slid his fingers up her arm, over her shoulder and throat until his palm curved along her jaw, his thumb softly grazing her bottom lip. The music swelled as he slid his hand back to cradle the nape of her neck, his fingers ever-so gently twisting into her hair.

She didn’t know who moved first, but all at once their lips met. It was hardly the first time she’d kissed Ted, but she’d never kissed him like this. His mouth soft, his lips searching, it was so tender it made her ache.

In response, her lips parted for him, a silent invitation which he accepted gladly, and the kiss deepened until she lost herself in it completely. There was only the music, Ted, and her, adrift in a boundless, star drenched sea.

Until the lights snapped back to red, queuing the band to pick up speed again. They broke free of the kiss, blinking rapidly to re-adjust to the light. Rebecca’s heart was hammering in her ears, and she wasn’t sure it was just because of the abrupt change of music and lights.

“Can we go?” she asked, hoping to pass off, to both Ted and herself, whatever the fuck had just happened to her as pure desire. “I’m ready for you to cash in those favors,” she whispered against his ear.

They walked back to Rebecca’s cabin in silence, apparently in mutual agreement that acknowledging the moment they’d just shared might firmly fall into the “more” category Rebecca had outlawed that first morning.

Rebecca’s room was bathed in moonlight; it shone through the open balcony curtains, its light scattering across the rippling blackness of the sea.

Ted had barely shut the door behind him when Rebecca turned to him.

“Rebecca, I–”

Rebecca pressed her index finger to his lips, “Don’t.” She replaced her finger with her lips, striving to break the tension between them with a hungry, fervent kiss.

Ted, thankfully, matched her energy, arms wrapping tightly around her waist, his tongue sweeping across her lips and past them as she opened her mouth wider for him.

As she started going through the now familiar motions of relieving Ted of his clothes, she couldn’t quite shake the phantom of whatever they’d shared on the ballroom floor. Was Ted thinking about it, too? The thought made her movements clumsy and unfocused.

By this point, they’d seen every inch of each other, from every angle, in broad daylight as much as in darkness. There was nothing left for her to hide from him in a literal sense, so why did she suddenly feel almost shy?

Apparently attuned to the slight shift in her energy, Ted broke off the kiss and stepped back from her. “You alright? We don’t have to do this.” Concern laced his words.

“I want to,” she replied. “Really,” she insisted in response to his questioning look. Rebecca knew she wanted him just as badly as she had all week, her body was practically screaming for it. And he wanted her, too, if the hardness she’d felt against her leg before he stepped away was any indication. “Do you?”

As an answer, Ted stepped toward her again. Instead of picking up where they’d left off, he reached for her hand. Delicately, he lifted it, turning it slowly upward, and planted his lips gently first onto the inside of her wrist, and again on the heartline of her palm. He then pressed her palm to his cheek and held it there, warm and reassuring. The sweetness of it made her traitorous heart flutter.

His dark eyes, glinting in the moonlight, flicked up to hers. “How about we try takin’ it slow? And if it still doesn’t feel right, we can stop. Okay?”

Rebecca felt as though she were standing on a precipice. Where she stood was familiar, solid ground beneath her feet, a landscape she understood behind her. But in front of her, just one step away, was something vast and unknowable, dangerous and hypnotic. Her brain begged her to go back to safety, while her heart yearned to dive forward. Nobody was there to push her off or pull her back; it was something she had to choose for herself.

So she dove.

Rebecca brushed her thumb along his cheekbone and stepped forward, studying his features like she wanted to memorize every line of his face. She leaned in to kiss him, softly at first before building up to a modest rhythm. This time, his tongue was more cautious, curious rather than demanding, and she welcomed it eagerly.

They’d never wasted any time on this part before, usually in some unspoken competition to see who could tear the others clothes off the fastest on their way to the bed, the wall, the balcony, even. But now, Rebecca moved almost painstakingly slowly, savoring how Ted quivered beneath her touch as she removed each layer until he wore only his boxers.

“Well, this hardly seems fair,” his voice low and teasing as he took in her still fully-clothed body, running a palm slowly down her side to rest at her hip.

Rebecca laughed softly as she lightly scratched her nails up and down the skin of his back, and to her delight and mild surprise, this made Ted bury his head in the crook of her neck and sigh. “You like this?” she inquired, finding it quite sweet.

“Heaven,” he breathed into her skin. “I could stand here and let you do this all night, but I do have some other things in mind.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And most of them do not involve these clothes, as beautiful as you may look wearing them.”

Rebecca suppressed a shiver. Dangerous.

Ted freed the hem of her shirt from the waistband of her skirt, his hand sliding up into the gap, the direct contact of his hand on the skin of her waist eliciting a gasp from her. Christ, she felt girlish and silly reacting to these simple sensations like they were wholly unfamiliar.

Ted’s lips curved into a smile against her neck as he dropped kisses there, his mustache tickling her as he dragged his lips from her pulse to the hollow of her throat. Rebecca traced a path all the way from his shoulders to his thigh before spreading her fingers over the front of his boxers, his breath hitching as she did so.

Rebecca pressed her hand to his sternum, guiding him carefully backwards towards the bed until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he sank into it. Standing between his knees, Rebecca lightly mussed his hair as he pressed kisses to her torso. “Favor number one.” She hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his head up toward her. “You don’t get to come before I do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded quite fervently, knocking a piece of his hair loose across his forehead. Rebecca observed him for a moment, his outline framed against the moonlight and the sea was an image that she hoped to never forget.

She held his gaze as she curled her fingers around the elastic of his boxers. Ted wiggled his hips from side to side so Rebecca could easily pull them away, and he hissed as he finally came free, The sound and the sight of him sent an aching pulse through her.

“Favor number two.” Rebecca lightly scratched her nails along his thighs, making him bristle with anticipation. “Hand me a pillow, won’t you?” She smirked at his confused look before the nature of her request clicked into place.

“You don’t have to–” he started to argue, his voice a ragged whisper.

“I know I don’t. Pillow, please.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he leaned over, grabbing one of the throw pillows from the top of the bed and handing it to her. She knelt down, placing the pillow under her knees. “Don’t forget favor number one,” Rebecca murmured as she wrapped a hand around him, and he tensed beneath her touch.

The sound Ted made as she took him into her mouth was its own aphrodisiac. His fingers wound around the nape of her neck, not forcefully, but like he needed to hold onto something lest he float away. Rebecca peered up at him, burning as she saw his closed eyes, his brows knitted together, his mouth open in a small ‘o’ of concentration.

“Fuck,” he gasped as she took him deeper, his eyes opening to take the sight of her in. “Rebecca, I’m–” but Rebecca wanted to test him, push him to the brink, so she pressed her tongue against his head, stroking him all the while, until his hand tightened in her hair and a deep shudder reverberated through his body. Rebecca quickly pulled away.

Ted sat there gasping, and Rebecca smiled at him, giving him a moment to walk back from the edge.

“Close call,” he muttered, his chest still heaving. Rebecca idly ran her fingers up and down his leg until his breaths slowed. “And somehow you still have all your clothes on.” He smiled and shook his head, placing a hand on her forearm and helping her stand back up.

She hiked up her skirt and planted a knee on either side of him, his cock pressed against her so tightly that even the slightest shift sent darts of pleasure through her.

Her hands cupped either side of his face as she pressed her mouth to his once more. Ted caught the bottom of her shirt and lifted it over her head, tossing it away into the darkness. With one hand, he unhooked her bra. Rebecca smiled as she remembered him bragging about how he’d learned this trick in high school the first time they’d slept together.

He took her in, her skin glowing in the blue-white hue of moonlight. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

“I know.”

He leaned forward to land a kiss on her sternum while keeping one hand steady on her hip and sliding the other up her side. He palmed her breast, circling his thumb around her nipple. Simultaneously, he took the other into his mouth, grazing his teeth across it and breathing a cool stream of air onto the tender skin in the wake of his tongue. The combination made her pulse with desire, loosing a low moan from her chest.

Ted gazed up at her, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, “Feeling good?”

Telling him that she was almost certain she’d never felt better in her life seemed a little too candid, so instead she breathed a simple, “Very.”

“Good,” he replied. Ted wrapped his arm around her waist and with surprising strength, flipped their positions so Rebecca was laying back on the bed with Ted straddling her hips.

Ted shifted, gently kneeing apart her legs to situate himself between them. His fingers hooked around the waistband of her skirt and knickers and Rebecca lifted her hips to assist him in their removal. He got a little tangled up, unsexily moving her legs around to fully remove her clothes. “That was much more suave in my head,” he muttered, both of them laughing.

Once the clothes were finally gone, Ted paused, the moon reflecting in his brown eyes as they swept reverently over her body. He moved over her, cupping her jaw and finding her lips again while his other hand trailed upward along her inner thigh.

He dipped a finger between her legs, humming with satisfaction when he felt how wet she was. One finger, then two slipped inside her, finding a steady, slow rhythm that threatened to drive her mad. Rebecca wasn’t sure she could wait another moment to have him inside her. Pushing herself up, she straddled his hips, hovering over him as she leaned down to kiss him slowly, deeply, torturing both of them for just a moment longer.

Ted stroked her cheek with the side of his index finger. “I still owe you one more favor,” Ted murmured breathlessly.

A swell of feeling that had nothing to do with her arousal burbled up in her chest.

Tell me that you love me, even if you don’t really mean it, just so I know what it feels like.

She licked her lips and swallowed it down.

“I’ll hold onto it,” she said with a wink.

Using her hand, she guided herself down onto his cock, ripping a gasp from Ted’s chest as she took him fully inside of her. He sat up straight and wrapped an arm around her waist, meeting her rhythm as she rocked her hips, back and forth, up and down.

“Rebecca…” he breathed against her lips as they kissed. Their speed built, beads of sweat rolling down their bodies, as the pressure built and built until Rebecca knew both of them were close, so close to the edge.

Rebecca tangled her fingers into his hair, and found Ted’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze as he moaned her name over and over and over, and to Rebecca’s surprise, no part of her wanted to look away.

Rebecca must've been imagining things, but when he said her name it was almost as if he were actually saying I love you, I love you, I love you.

Ted was guilty of breaking two of Rebecca’s cardinal rules.

He woke up next to her in bed, morning sunlight streaming through the windows, a column of light striated across Rebecca’s still sleeping face.

This infringement on the no sleepover rule was perhaps forgivable considering when he’d tried to leave the bed last night, Rebecca caught his forearm and pulled him back to her, pressing her body flush to his and promptly falling asleep.

And that was the final nail in the proverbial coffin of his second and far more egregious transgression.

Ted was in love with Rebecca Welton.

He wasn’t sure he could pinpoint when it had happened.

He might’ve said it’d happened that very first night, but he wasn’t the sort of man who claimed to be in love with a beautiful woman he knew nothing about. To him, that was falling for the idea of a person, not the person themselves. But even so, a moment had passed between them when Ted mentioned his father’s passing and Rebecca had, apparently without thinking, reached out to grab his hand.

Rebecca was confident. Rebecca was unsentimental. Rebecca was unflappable. She was the kind of woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and she didn’t let anything stand between her and getting it, either. In their conversations, she often implied that others found her intimidating, icy, abrasive. Ted thought he could see why, particularly the former, not so much the latters.

But unbeknownst to Rebecca, she’d shown her hand to him early on. With that simple, instinctual act, Ted knew she had a tenderheart beneath it all. Whether by accident or by design, she’d concealed it, maybe even from herself.

And Ted had to commend her; she could have won a gold medal for fencing with how good she was at keeping her guard up, deftly deflecting and redirecting questions.

But she was far from a poor conversationalist. When Ted spoke, the way she noticed him, listened to him, well, it went beyond the scant interest you’d show in someone you were simply keeping around for sex. And, truthfully, if that were all it was between them, it was a pretense she didn’t need to keep up on Ted’s behalf. He would’ve come knocking on her door either way.

The time he spent with her, it made him feel all tingly and warm. She had a glow about her, and he was a moth to that flame.

Unlike a moth, however, he had the capacity to be a bit more discerning.

And he tried, he really did.

Heck, it would’ve been hard not to be swept up in the romance of it all. Sailing across the Atlantic on an old fashioned ocean liner, summoning the courage to walk up to the most strikingly beautiful woman he’d ever seen, spilling his guts to her within the first hour of knowing her, being taken to her bed within the second. It was straight out of an old Hollywood film, not the kinda thing that happened to a boy from middle-of-nowhere Kansas.

When he was with Rebecca in this liminal space, it was like nobody on earth existed except for the two of them. Whether it would all collapse into dust the second he disembarked, he couldn’t be sure, but it was getting harder and harder to believe that it could.

And as the inevitable end of their journey loomed larger and larger on the horizon, so too did Ted’s dread.

Rebecca had made it perfectly clear from day one that she wasn’t interested in whatever this was continuing past that point. He had agreed to that with clear eyes because ultimately wasn’t six days in her company better than none?

What right did he have to ask for more?

He hadn’t ruled out the idea that he might be completely crazy. There was still so much about Rebecca he didn’t understand, that he couldn’t predict, and last night was proof. She’d been different somehow, he was almost certain considering his relatively limited frame of reference. The entire night had felt like a held breath, some intangible anticipation building between them. Rebecca had dropped that guard just so, and he had no idea why, or whether it was a temporary insanity or an indication of something else. He barely dared to hope it could be the latter.

Ted carefully, quietly wriggled out of bed. He slipped his boxers and his Oxford back on. Hanging on the back of the bathroom door was the shirt he’d given Rebecca that first morning. He brought it over to the bed and laid it next to her before he padded over to the coffee machine, attempting to prepare it with the stealth of an international assassin.

As the machine sputtered to life, he heard a long exhalation from the bed. “I’m having déjà vu,” she murmured, her voice an alluring rasp.

Ted turned to face her and to his heart skipped a beat when he saw she was smiling sleepily at him from the bed.

“Is it still déjà vu if it actually did happen before?” he mused.

“I suppose not,” she sighed. “Thank you for the shirt,” she said as she pushed herself out of bed, clearly no longer experiencing the embarrassment of that first morning as the duvet fell away from her body and she stretched rather ostentatiously before shrugging the shirt over her torso. She even dropped a kiss on his cheek before slipping into the bathroom.

What the hell was happening?

Ted poured the coffee into two mugs, carrying one over to her nightstand and then carefully climbing into the bed, propping himself up on the headboard to sip his own.

Rebecca re-emerged from the bathroom looking a bit fresher. “Hey, I was just rememberin’ how last night you said you’d show me your sketchbook.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She rolled open her closet door and started rifling through her bags. “Fuck me,” she said as something crashed to the floor.

“You okay?”

“Yes, yes…I–” more movement, “Shit. I must’ve left it at the hotel,” she sighed as she re-materialized, “I’ll have to call them once I’m home.”

“That’s okay. How about you describe them to me? I have a pretty vivid imagination, even if I know nothing about fashion.” He patted the spot next to him on the bed and Rebecca crawled into it, nestling into his side.

As they sipped their coffee, Rebecca attempted to describe her particular design aesthetic and various sources of inspiration, each of which required her to unwind particular areas of fashion and art history as Ted asked questions like, “I totally know this, but remind me who Vivienne Westwood is?” and “Can you explain a ‘bias cut’ like I’m in third grade geometry?”

“Well, I’m sure sorry I can’t see them myself. But hey, there’s one of those free notepads in here, maybe you could sketch somethin’ for me?”

Rebecca put her cup to the side and looked up at him, “What if I drew you instead?”

Unsure why, heat crept up his cheeks, “Me? Really?”

“Why not? It’s good to get some figure drawing practice in from time to time.”

“Do you want me to take off my clothes like I’m a model in one of those art classes?”

Rebecca chuckled, “Not that I don’t want to get your clothes off, but you do look very dashing with your shirt like this,” she said, dusting her palm across the exposed part of his chest.

“Alright,” he agreed.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Rebecca commanded him as she’d wriggled free from the place she’d been curled into his side. She wore nothing but one of his shirts and somehow, with the way she'd haphazardly buttoned it, it was better to him than lingerie. He fought an instinct to pull her back into bed, to make sure neither of them ever moved from this bed or left this room again. “Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot to pack my sketchbook,” she muttered as she searched around the room, finally locating the complimentary notepad and a pencil, which she retrieved and returned to the bed, sitting on the opposite side from him. “This lighting is perfect,” she said, quite pleased, as she pressed the pencil to the pad.

He regarded how her lashes fluttered as her eyes moved from him to the paper and back, how her nose scrunched up in concentration, how her hand flowed across the page.

“You’re perfect,” he said, almost subconsciously.

“Don’t you start,” she warned, her voice low and cautioning.

I am long past starting, he thought.

As the day passed, Ted tried not to think about how each moment was the last, but inevitably he did, and with each one, he became more resolved that none of them should be the last anything they shared.

He knew he had no control over Rebecca’s response. That if she told him no, if she’d meant what she’d said, well, it’d break his heart, but he wouldn’t argue.

No, the only thing he would regret is if he didn’t try. Her saying no wouldn’t be worse than him saying nothing, and his heart breaking anyway.

He waited for a moment where it wouldn’t feel like he was springing it on her out of the blue. Rebecca was clearly becoming familiar with him as more than once she turned to him to ask, “Are you alright?” and he’d swallow and nod.

It was nearly dinner by the time he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer. They stood on the ship deck, each clasping a glass of wine and watching the sun sink into the ocean for the last time.

The air was brisk and chilly, but Ted was warm with nerves.

“Rebecca, I need to ask you somethin’.”

She smirked. “Thank you for announcing it, but you could just ask–” Whatever she saw on his expression when she turned her head to him made her smile falter. “Ted, you’ve been acting strangely all day and you look a little peaky. Are you ill?” She grazed his brow with the back of her palm, her look of concern deepening when she felt the cold sweat there.

Ted swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I’m fit as a fiddle. But there’s somethin’ that’s been weighin’ on my mind, and I kept waitin’ for the right moment, and I’m not sure now is right, but I’m not sure when will be–”

“Ted,” Rebecca interrupted the flood of his words. “Breathe,” her voice was firm, but kind. Ted complied, the breath a little tense, but it did help ease his nerves.

“I remember what you said that first morning. The terms that we shook on.” Rebecca’s expression shifted though he couldn’t quite decipher its meaning. “And I respect that, I do, and the last thing I want is to put pressure on you, but I’ll kick myself forever if I don’t at least ask.” He took another deep breath. “I don’t want this to end when we arrive. I don’t want to walk off this ship tomorrow and continue my life like I’m still the man I was a week ago. I…” He grasped for the right words, wishing he’d thought this through a little more. “What I’m sayin’ is, to put it simply...” There’s a first time for everything, he thought wryly. “I’m gonna be in London for one week and I’d like to spend time with you while I’m there, if you’re amenable. What happens after that, well, we can cross that bridge when we get to it. But…but what do you think?”

Rebecca was silent for a long moment. For Ted, that moment stretched into an eternity. Rebecca’s green eyes seemed to be searching the horizon for answers, her expression completely impenetrable.

Finally, she inhaled slowly, her eyes flicking back to him. “I would like that very much.”

Ted thought this smile might jump right off his face it went so wide. “Really?”

“Yes. I do have one condition,” she added seriously.

“What’s that?” his heart sank a little.

“I refuse to go to any touristy places with you. If you want to go to Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Parliament, or anything of that nature, you’ll have to find someone else. I despise queueing,” she said with disdain.

Ted laughed, “Alright. I think I can live with that.”

Chapter Text

Rebecca had no idea what the fuck she was doing.

During their last night on board, they didn’t have sex once, as if the knowledge that their time together was not coming to an immediate end meant they no longer felt every second not spent fucking was a second wasted.

As she and Ted disembarked the ship together, as she missed multiple trains to London waiting with Ted for his crate of wine bottles to clear customs, as they eventually boarded the train and watched the English countryside roll by through the window, she couldn’t help but second guess herself. A bit.

Self-doubt was neither familiar nor comfortable for Rebecca, and it showed. Ted, who’d become uncannily attuned to the modulation of her emotions, able to see through her in a way nobody ever had, was clearly not buying any of her poor excuses. However, after a few “You alright?”’s, each of which she neatly deflected, he courteously let it drop, though she caught him regarding her out of the corner of his eye.

The truth was, she was terrified. Terrified of what it meant to agree to spend more time with him. Making this choice hadn’t stopped the clock, merely reset it, and Rebecca had no idea what next week would bring.

At the beginning of their onboard courtship or whatever it was, Rebecca had been confident, or perhaps careless, enough to believe this was a mere moment that would pass, like so many others.

What was it Ted had said? I don’t want to walk off this ship tomorrow and continue my life like I’m still the man I was a week ago.

And Rebecca knew she felt the same way. For better or for worse, she had experienced, pun intended (Christ, Ted was rubbing off on her), a sea change. By some strange alchemy, the Rebecca who’d left England and the one who returned were not the same. An odyssey, one might even call it.

Ted had booked a cheap hotel room in SoHo to use as an outpost between his meetings with financiers, hoteliers, and restaurateurs, mostly in central London.

“Can I be honest with you?” Ted’s eyes were moving wildly over the unfolded paper map of the London Underground, confusion stitched into the lines of his face. “I know men are supposed to have some primal sense of direction, but this thing doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.”

“Well, this might help,” Rebecca flipped the map so it was facing right-side-up.

“Ah-hah,” Ted made a sound of understanding and continued to look it over for another minute before stating, “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Alright. Here’s what I think,” Rebecca laughed, barely resisting the temptation to kiss the knotted space between his brows, “You can get off the train with me at Richmond. I’ll drop off my things at home and then we’ll take a cab to your hotel and I’ll show you around. I happen to know that area like the back of my hand.”

“I should start callin’ you ‘Boss’ the way you boss me around.” There was a playful twinkle in his eye that made her feel bubbly.

“No. Don’t. Stop,” Rebecca said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

***

“Now if this ain’t the most charming thing I’ve ever seen.” Ted smiled as he looked over the rowhouses on Rebecca’s street. She led them up the garden path to her building’s front door.

“Oh, just wait until you hear about my landlady. It’ll charm the pants right off you,” Rebecca said over her shoulder as she unlocked the outer door. “You can leave your things in the entryway for now.”

Ted, ever the gentleman, hauled Rebecca’s largest suitcase up the curved stairs to her flat.

Ted dropped the suitcase and paused in the entryway like he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to enter. Rebecca placed a hand lightly on Ted’s shoulder, balancing herself on him as she kicked off her shoes, Ted taking the cue to do the same.

“Would you like a tour?”

“Oh, I’d love to see Abbey Road.”

Rebecca gave him a look and he grinned back at her innocently. She guided him through the small flat. It was modest and well-appointed with carefully curated vintage furniture, and best of all, brightly lit thanks to the large northern-facing windows and skylights.

Rebecca, for some reason, felt a little sheepish as she watched Ted appraise the space, his eyes combing over her framed photos and artwork, his fingers running along the spines of the books on her shelf and the vintage rotary phone on the table, the little grin dancing across his lips as they looked into her bedroom. It was hardly the first time there’d been a man in her home, but once again, unlike those men, Rebecca found herself desperately wishing she knew what he was thinking.

“This is a little strange, right?” he said, as if hearing her unspoken desire to read his mind.

“What? My flat? I think it’s quite–”

“No, no. I mean, yes. But not your flat, per se. Just...” He spread his hands like he was holding an invisible ball. “This.”

Rebecca sighed in relief, “Yes. This is all very…surreal.” This had been her home for ten years. She could find her way through every inch of it in the dark, and yet, with Ted in it, it was as though his presence was actively reshaping her reality, making the familiar unfamiliar, the old new again.

“Right? I mean, you practically walked outta my dreams, so I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that it feels surreal,” Rebecca tried not to blush at this remark, “But it’s kinda just hittin’ me that we’re real people. We’ve got jobs and families and friends and houses and landladies.”

“Bold of you to assume I have friends,” she said lightly, but it was, in essence, true, and she caught Ted raising a brow at her. “But I know exactly what you mean. How about I put the kettle on? We can rest for a bit before we go into the city center. Unless you’re in a hurry?”

“Nope. Today is all about gettin’ my–what’s the opposite of sea-legs? Land-legs?" He shrugged, wrinkling his nose. "I’ve got nothin’ but time.”

Rebecca padded into the kitchen, filling and setting the kettle on the stove. Ted followed her, leaning against the doorway. “Alright. I’m dyin’ to hear about this charmin’ landlady of yours.”

“Ah. Mrs. Shipley.” Rebecca opened the kitchen window to let some cool spring air into the stuffy room. “If it were possible to adopt someone as a grandmother, I’d adopt her. It’s a perfect arrangement, really. I bring her groceries and watch her cat when she goes to visit her grandchildren, she leaves me baked goods and steals my mail.”

“One of those things is not like the others.”

“Oh, it isn’t malicious or even deliberate. Well, I assume it isn’t…After the first few months I lived here, my electricity shut off leading to a discovery that she'd been accidentally hoarding my bills for months.”

“You’re right. That is pretty dang charmin’. You can take my pants off if you’d like,” he said, his eyebrows dancing suggestively.

“After I’ve had some tea, I might do just that.” Rebecca moved to the counter and leaned a hip against it.

“Ouch. You’d put tea before me?” Ted walked over to her, pressing his body into hers and sliding his palm over the curve of her hip, planting a clumsy, endearing kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Must be some pretty good stuff, then.”

“Not only is it ‘pretty good,' it also doesn’t get jealous when I prioritize other things.” Rebecca playfully pushed him away.

Ted stumbled back a few steps and plopped into a seat at the small kitchen table. “So how long have you lived here exactly?”

“Nearly ten years now. Before, I lived in a truly wretched flat in Chelsea,” Rebecca scoffed. “It was stifling. The final straw was this juvenile fight I got into with my best friend slash flatmate over a boy of all things.” She was interrupted by the whistle of the kettle. “Do you have a tea preference, Ted? I have Earl Grey, Yorkshire, Spearmint–”

“Honestly, I’ve never had tea in my life, so, I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Really? Never?”

“I know it’s something of a national pastime here, but not so much back home.”

“Well, I’ve never had the honor of making someone their first ever cup of tea.” Rebecca poured hot water into two mugs and brought them over to Ted as she continued her story, “I found an advertisement for this place and the rent was ridiculously cheap. Don’t drink it yet–” she put a hand over Ted’s as he moved to pick up the mug, “I half expected to discover it was a scheme to abduct young women, but instead I met Mrs. Shipley. You see, her husband had passed away a couple of years prior. Her daughters tried to get her to move closer to them, but she wouldn’t budge. She didn’t want to lose the memories of her husband, her children, but she couldn’t afford to stay here on her own and the stairs were getting a bit much for her, the poor dear. Instead, they convinced her to use some of the money he’d left her to remodel the upstairs and convert it into this flat. She’d been interviewing potential tenants for months, but hadn’t liked any of them enough. Well, apparently I impressed her because I was tall enough that she thought I’d be able to scare off would-be burglars and help change her light bulbs. Alright, now you can drink it.”

Rebecca made no move to release his hand, so he used his other to pick up the mug and take a very dubious sip. He made a face like she’d fed him sour milk. “Yuck,” he said, flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth like he was trying to scrape the taste off. It was stupidly adorable.

Rebecca, worried that perhaps the tea itself had gone off, took a sip of her own. It was perfect, warm, soothing. “What’s wrong?”

“Tastes like…pigeon sweat.” His face was still screwed up in disgust. “How do y’all drink this stuff? It’s like someone raked up all the fall leaves and took the damp ones from the bottom and blended them in boiling water–”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. I’ll bring you some sugar. And a digestive.”

“What, like prunes?”

“No,” she chuckled, “Like a biscuit.”

She returned with both, Ted hoisting a hefty spoonful of sugar – or three – into the cup and stirring it around. He then dipped the biscuit into the tea and took a cautious nibble.

“Well?” Rebecca said, watching him carefully, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on the backs of her interwoven fingers.

He rapidly shook his head, “That’s just sweet, wet sand.”

“You’re impossible,” Rebecca groaned.

“No, I just have taste,” Ted grimaced, “Maybe y’all burned yours away drinkin’ all that hot garbage water.”

“If you’re going to be such a child about it, is there something else you’d like me to get you?”

“How about some water?”

“That I can do.” She stood and walked to the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“As long as it’s not that bubbly stuff you Europeans like so much. Now that I think about it, y’all are doing a lot of unholy things with water–”

“Hm. I can think of some unholy things we could do with water,” Rebecca said casually, eyebrow raised, holding the water out to him, “But it doesn’t sound like something you’d approve of, so…”

“Now, wait a second.” Ted licked his lips as he took the glass from her. “I think my earlier comment might’ve been a little hasty.” He stood up, stumbling a little as he did so and accidentally hip checking the table, splashing some of the water onto himself.

“Oh, is that so?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Because I could introduce you to my shower. I could show you how to put its excellent water pressure to use.” She started to back out of the kitchen, wearing a little pout. “But I’d hate to offend your delicate American sensibilities.” She reached the doorway and turned around, smiling when she heard a glass slam down on the table and hurried footsteps in her wake.

***

To Rebecca’s credit, it took her three whole days to panic.

Returning to reality was jarring. From the lack of sex practically on demand (it really had been almost gratuitous, she thought) to the more harrowing absence of Ted’s near-constant company, Rebecca found it difficult to fall back into a familiar rhythm.

When she returned to her small studio, she was shocked to discover an influx of interview and editorial requests and new client inquiries, having completely forgotten that she’d had a career-turning moment not two weeks ago. It suddenly didn’t feel so important.

What did feel important was what was going to happen when Ted went back to the States. She frequently had to remind herself that Ted didn’t live in London. He had a life, a business, a home on the other side of the world. There was no future between the two of them that didn’t involve at least one of them making an enormous sacrifice.

The fact that Rebecca was even thinking about this was almost the most frightening thing about the entire situation.

By that third day, she was twitchy and uneasy. She’d decided to spend the night at Ted’s hotel as she had an early appointment in Mayfair, but she’d hardly slept. And not for fun, sexy reasons either.

That morning, sleep-deprived and slightly delirious, sipping shitty hotel coffee in a shittier hotel bed, she gazed at the solid brick wall outside the window.

“You know,” she said, “There’s a lovely little café on the way from my flat to the tube stop. Excellent coffee and their pan au chocolat is to die for.”

What are you saying, Rebecca?

“Mhm,” Ted replied a little absentmindedly as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom.

“And I have a charming view of Richmond Park from my bedroom window,” she continued.

Why do you keep talking?!?

Ted answered, his voice a little garbled from the toothpaste, “Listen, I know this ain’t the Ritz or anything, but to be fair I didn’t think I’d be hosting–”

“All I’m saying is I’m not sure why you should keep wasting your money on a place like this when you could be…” Well, too late. You have to say it now. “Staying with me. If you wanted."

Ted turned to look at her, a bit of foamy white toothpaste on his chin, “Are you sure?”

Am I sure?

“Yes,” she affirmed. “I have my meeting and some other work I need to do this afternoon, but if you wanted to head over, there’s a spare key underneath the garden gnome’s hat. You can let yourself in and make yourself comfortable.”

“That’s…awfully kind of you, Rebecca. Thank you. My back thanks you, too.”

As Rebecca went through her day, her thoughts kept drifting back to Ted. She thought about him in her house, sitting in her favorite chair, selecting a book off her shelf, just existing in a space she’d never shared with another person.

It made her feel…strange.

That house was her sanctuary. It was more of a home to her than the one she’d grown up in. Witnessing her father’s infidelity had reshaped all her memories of it, poisoned them with visions of him parading faceless women through it behind their backs. This one was free, unsullied, wholly hers.

Because of that, she was always quite precious about it. About who got to come, who got to stay, and both of those lists were incredibly short. There was no precedent for letting a man she was sleeping with stay the night, let alone staying for days…or longer.

As she sat on the train home, she chewed at her fingernails, a childhood habit she’d worked hard to overcome, but really she’d just substituted it with smoking, and she lit one of those as soon as she emerged from the station.

She finished a second as she stood outside the gate to her house, staring up at the window where she could see the dim glow of a lamp.

Honesty. Directness. These were things she valued, she prided herself on. And two things she desperately didn’t want to be in this moment.

She dropped the butt of the cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath her heel.

She nearly knocked on the front door before remembering she lived there, not Ted, and inserted the key instead.

As she stepped into the flat, she was met with the sound of a record playing from the main room. “Ted?” she called from the doorway as she slipped off her shoes.

“In here!”

She followed the sound, which clarified into the sweet, mournful voice of Joni Mitchell.

“...in my blood like holy wine,” Rebecca couldn’t help but join in under her breath, “you taste so bitter and so sweet.” She turned the corner into the room, finding Ted standing with his hands in his pockets, beaming at her.

“You didn’t tell me you could sing, Rebecca.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized she maybe hadn’t been singing as quietly as she’d thought.

“Oh, you know, just a little, I suppose,” she stammered.

Ted held out a hand to her, which she took, and he pulled her into a little swaying dance.

“Come on,” Ted encouraged, “Grace us with a little more?” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No pressure, though.”

Rebecca hummed softly into his ear, occasionally letting lyrics slip out, “‘Cause part of you pours into me…I could drink a case of you…” Ted nuzzled into her neck and she could feel the curve of his lips as he smiled. “Not sure I’ve ever danced to Joni Mitchell before.”

“First time for everything.” He kissed the hollow of her throat before leaning back to look at her face. “Hope you don’t mind me pokin’ around your collection.”

“I only mind if you don’t like it.” She gave him a warning look.

“Oh, I like it very much. I mean Aretha Franklin, Joni, Prince, the Broadway cast recording of Company, you’ve really got all bases covered. A few glaring omissions, though,” he added offhandedly.

“Is that so?

“Didn’t notice any Kenny Rogers, for instance.”

“Who?”

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’,” Ted halted their dance mid-step. “The Gambler? You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em…know when to fold ‘em?” Rebecca shrugged. “Nothin’? Well, we’ll have to fix that won’t we.”

“Ominous.” She broke away from him as the next song began to play. “Well, if that little snippet is anything to go by, it seems you’re not half bad at singing yourself,” she smiled.

“Hey, maybe we can quit our jobs and form a band. Give Fleetwood Mac a run for their money. We’ll have to duke it out to see who gets to be the frontman, though.”

“Obviously me,” Rebecca replied as she plopped down on the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest. Ted followed, sitting next to her, her toes sliding beneath his thigh.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be honest, I dunno why I thought I stood a chance. I’ll back you up on the guitar, then.”

“Do you play?”

“I know a few chords,” he said so casually that Rebecca immediately knew he was likely underselling himself.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Let’s see…” Ted looked off pensively into the distance, “My dad gave me one for Christmas when I was 10, I think, so that puts us at…22 years or thereabouts.”

“And in all that time you’ve only ever learned a few chords, hm?”

“Well…Lack of discipline and all that.”

“Your father–did he teach you?” Rebecca said delicately, testing the waters, curious but not wanting to push him too far.

“Indeed he did. Fancied himself a real Hank Williams type. When he played that guitar, he always seemed so alive. I think it helped him express some things he couldn’t really put words to otherwise. Unfortunately, nobody was really listenin’.”

Rebecca’s chest tightened as the meaning of his words sunk into her. She looked down and saw his fist clenching, the same way it had back on the ship. She placed a gentle hand over it and felt it relax underneath her palm.

“What was your favorite song that he played?”

Ted, to her relief, smiled, with dimples and all. “My house was pretty close to a railroad track. Every Thursday night at 9:13PM, a train would roll on by. He’d start singin’ Folsom Prison Blues, and somehow always timed it perfectly so that by the time he finished the song, the train was gone. I was always jealous over how he could get his voice down low like Johnny’s. You know, I hang my head and cry,” Ted produced his best Johnny Cash impression, his voice cracking a little as he did so, making them both laugh. “See? It ain’t easy even when I’m post-pubescent.”

“That’s a lovely story, Ted. Thank you for telling me.”

“You know, I haven’t thought about that in a long time. It’s…hard sometimes. To remember the good parts.”

“I…agree,” Rebecca gave his hand a squeeze, knowing she hardly ever extended that kind of grace to her own father.

Ted shifted his position. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished. Why don’t we get a Chinese takeaway?”

“Sure. But, while we wait, I’ve got a little surprise for you in the kitchen.” Ted turned his palm upwards and laced her fingers between his, leading her away.

On the kitchen table was a small pink cardboard box. “What’s this?” Rebecca smiled as she walked over to it and picked up the box to inspect it.

“When I got here, I happened to run into the infamous mail thief herself, Mrs. Shipley. After about five minutes of convincing her I knew you and I wasn’t in fact trying to rob the house, she invited me over for tea. Well, you know my feelings about that, but she was more than happy to give me some juice instead. Anyway, I mentioned to her those nasty biscuits you’ve got and that I thought you deserved better. Asked if she had a recipe she could lend me, but, miracle woman she is, all her recipes are just in her head. So she taught me how to make ‘em, though I added a thing or two of my own. And here they are.”

Rebecca opened the box and sniffed them. They smelled warm, sugary, spiced. She picked one up and took a small bite. Her eyes rolled back into her head. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Bad?” Ted said, his brow wrinkling in concern.

“It’s fucking delicious. Christ, I’ll never be able to eat store-bought biscuits again.”

“Oh, you can just call me Ted.” He smiled as Rebecca shot him a look while she devoured the entire biscuit.

Mouth still half-full, she said, “There’s a menu on the fridge. If we don’t order quickly, I’m just eating these for dinner and you’ll starve because I’m not sharing.”

45 minutes later, they returned to her flat, takeaway in hand. Rebecca, now changed into joggers and a t-shirt, even let them eat on the sofa in some attempt to trick her brain into feeling casual, easygoing.

“Ted,” she finally said, setting the cardboard takeaway box on the coffee table in front of her.

“Uh-oh,” Ted said, parroting her movement to put his own food down.

“What?”

“You used your serious voice when you said ‘Ted’,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

She took a breath, still unused to someone being able to read her like he did. “I’ve been thinking…”

Ted, who couldn’t let a pause linger, jumped in, “How weird it is that McDonald’s tried selling pizza last year and that it was actually pretty good and now I’m a little sad they discontinued it? I think about that all the time, too.”

Rebecca squinted at him, “How did you know?”

“Wait. Really?”

“No,” she laughed, punching him gently on the shoulder before she stilled again. “I’ve been thinking about the fact that there’s only a few more days before you’re due to leave.”

“Ah. Yeah, I’ve been trying not to.”

“And…” She swallowed. “How I don’t want this to be over.”

“I don’t want it to be either.”

“This is completely unfamiliar territory for me, Ted. I’ve never seen a future for myself with someone else. And go fucking figure, the one time I do it’s not something I can even have–”

“Rebecca, I–”

“Let me finish. If I stop now, I might never be able to say any of this. The way I feel about you, I’ve never felt anything like it. It scares the shit out of me, Ted, but what’s scarier is the thought of you leaving. Because…Because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop feeling this way, no matter how far away you are from me.” She exhaled, her breath a little short like she’d just finished jogging.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just as she started to fear she’d exposed too much, Ted took her hand between his, circling his thumb around her palm. “Can I talk now?”

Why was he smiling?

“Yes. You may.”

“I was actually already thinkin’ I’d like to stay. You know, do some more business. And I’ll need to wait to get more product shipped over, find venues, meet people, all of that could take quite a bit of time and harvest season doesn’t start until the end of the summer, so…”

“Well, that just makes sense. From a business perspective.” Rebecca nodded in agreement, biting her lip to contain the grin trying to spread across her lips.

“Right. And from a non-business perspective, it would mean a lot more of this.” He pressed his lips to her’s, slowly, deeply, his arm hooking around her waist, kissing her until he’d stolen her breath and she was liquid in his arms. “And maybe even more of those biscuits, if you’re lucky,” he breathed against her lips. He pressed his forehead to hers. “What do you think about that?”

Rebecca’s eyes fluttered closed, her hand finding the nape of his neck, and she took a moment just to feel his presence. The warmth of his skin against her forehead, beneath her palm, that rich tobacco scent, his hand against her back like he was holding something precious.

It made her feel…There was a flicker of something within her that her mind was still too afraid to voice.

“I might need a stronger commitment on the biscuits,” she teased, opening her eyes so she could plant a kiss on the tip of his nose, “But I think I can work with this.”

Ted caught her lips with another kiss, using the arm wrapped around her waist to steady her as he pushed forward until her shoulders touched the arm of the sofa. “Sorry…Shoulda asked if you were done eating yet,” he breathed, glancing at the box on the table.

“Hm…I think I’m hungry for something else, now.”

“Ice cream?” Ted kissed the pulse of her neck.

“Something warmer than that.”

“McDonald’s Pizza?” He kissed the part of her collarbone peeking out from her collar, his hands sliding up underneath the hem of her shirt.

“Definitely not,” she murmured as a shiver rolled down her spine, responding to his fingertips grazing her skin.

Ted pushed her shirt upward and away, his lips landing between her breasts, causing her breath to hitch, “I think I figured it out.”

“I think you did.”

“I like it when you wear sweatpants,” he said, somewhat ironically considering he’d started tugging them off.

And I like you, she thought as he explored her body with his mouth and hands, lingering on the places that wrung gasps out of her.

I like your stupid jokes, she thought as she eased off his clothes, drinking in the pleasure dancing across his face, a face she’d grown to adore, and seeing it like this only heightened that feeling.

I like not being alone, she thought as he coaxed an orgasm out of her first with his fingers, then again with his tongue.

I like the thought of coming home to you every day, she thought, almost drunkenly, as his weight pressed into her back, her hand clawing into the arm of the sofa. She braced herself against it as he pushed into her with practically saintlike patience.

I’ve never liked anything more, she thought, though her thoughts were becoming increasingly jumbled, as the tops of his thighs hit the backs of hers while he pulled her hair, raked his hand down her spine, palmed her ass until she was moaning, those moans forming into his name as his fingers found her clit.

Their breath grew fast and ragged as the pressure built and built – until it broke, Rebecca shattering beneath him, Ted’s fingers digging into her hip like a drowning man holding on for dear life as he fell to pieces along with her.

They collapsed into one another’s arms, bodies flush as they laid side by side on the sofa. Ted tucked a sweat-drenched lock of her hair behind her ear as he looked at her with half-closed eyes, his face ruddy and content.

“It’s unfair,” Rebecca mumbled.

“What is?” he asked, his voice equally frazzled.

“That we can’t just do this all the time.”

“Says who?”

“Well, it’d be a shame if Mrs. Shipley had to boot us out because I stopped paying rent.”

Ted circled his arms around her and pulled her close, “Doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together.”

“Very romantic.” She curled into him, eyes fluttering closed. “But I do rather like my bed.”

Ted kept expecting to have the rug pulled out from beneath him.

It was a feeling that had way-shadowed him throughout his adult life. Ever since his dad–Well, witnessing something like that would probably erode anyone’s trust in the foundations of their life.

And what he was doing now, it was hard to classify it as anything short of crazy. A nigh inexplicable insanity had seized him.

The day after Rebecca had become uncharacteristically loose-lipped about her feelings – and it had been Rebecca who’d instigated it - yet another crazy thing he couldn’t quite wrap his head around – and asked him to stay, he’d spent the day in her flat organizing his longer-term relocation. He promised to buy her breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for a week to make up for the international call bills he was surely racking up (an offer she flatly refused and insisted he instead repay her in biscuits and sexual favors).

He called the embassy and his lawyer to make sure he wasn’t accidentally becoming a fugitive in the U.K. He called his C.O.O. to settle all the business logistics. He called his mother so she wouldn’t think he’d been abducted or died when he didn’t return on schedule.

With each call, he fought the urge to babble like a madman about the real reason for extending his trip. About the woman who had so quickly captured his heart. He resisted telling his lawyer about how she was a brilliant artist. He didn’t mention her bright jade green eyes and how they pierced right into his soul to the embassy employee, or tell his colleagues about her beautiful singing voice and the way she snorted when she laughed. He didn’t tell his mother how he could so easily tell her things he’d never told another soul.

Saying any of it out loud felt like it’d be jinxing it, so he bit his tongue, kept the focus on what an amazing business opportunity it was.

And then, days started to spiral into weeks, somehow their time together always feeling like it was hurtling toward a deadline.

Ted kicked it to the back of his mind, doing his best to stay present and attentive.

He started to think he’d be able to fill a book with the things he was learning about Rebecca.

She loved to eat but she hated cooking. Rebecca’s kitchen was always stocked exclusively with fruit, boxed snacks, Cup Noodles, and tea. He eventually determined that she didn’t really hate cooking, rather she’d never properly learned how to do it and that made her a bit insecure. Ted was hardly a chef, but she just about took her clothes off when she woke up one morning to find him cooking her breakfast.

Rebecca was not a morning person. She was a damn good hand at poker and got adorably sore when Ted managed to beat her. When she got excited about something, she did this thing where she shook her fists like she was playing the maracas. She only liked to watch TV right before she went to sleep. She hadn’t read half the books on her shelves, but of the ones she had, her favorite was A Room with a View. There was a very specific soap she liked to use and was grumpy for an entire day when the corner shop had run out of it. She liked to sit on the floor when she sketched, back propped against the sofa. She seemed to like it even more when Ted laid on the sofa behind her, fingers idly running along her scalp, neck, and shoulders.

Rebecca was also, he learned, very lonely, and had been for a long time. When she was upset, she had a tendency to shut down and retreat into her own head. Through trial and error, he learned that when she was in one of these moods, silence was more supportive than chatter (a tough pill for Ted to swallow).

Every new thing he learned about her just made him fall a little bit further in love.

He started to feel almost guilty that he hadn’t said the words I love you to her. Part of him was still afraid that if he came on too strong, he’d break this thing between them. Throwing around a word like love might freak her out, make her bolt. He hadn’t forgotten how she’d compared falling in love to handing a murderer a weapon to kill you with.

Ted did not pry into her romantic history, but from what he could ascertain, there wasn’t much.

“Once, I let this older, obviously wealthy man buy me a few drinks at a bar. He was vain, a bit gauche when it came to advertising his money, but charming and handsome. We saw each other a few times and he held my interest enough until he casually dropped into the conversation that he was married.” She’d rolled her eyes and scoffed about the ‘audacity of men.’

There was also the story of the fit footballer who’d been the cause of the schism between Rebecca and her ex-best friend, a woman named Flo whom she called ‘Sassy.’

“Sassy and I went to secondary school together. I would’ve done anything for her, I was just so happy to have a best friend. Sass was always a bit petty, I suppose. I kissed a boy before she did, so she had to get revenge. One day we had P.E. and I’d forgotten my deodorant at home, so she started calling me Stinky as a joke. And children are famously twats, so it caught on like wildfire and we were Sassy and Stinky forevermore. We went to uni together. Sassy got into a serious relationship early on, while I was a bit…er…free-spirited.” Ted chuckled at this phrasing. “So, naturally, she graduated from calling me Stinky to calling me Slutty. Very clever.”

“Not very clever and not very nice, either,” Ted said, frowning, a little tetchy about this person he’d never met.

“No. It wasn’t. But she was my best friend and I loved her, so I let her do it. After we graduated, we moved in together while we pursued jobs in the city. There was this footballer Sassy had a silly crush on, and I actually met him at a club by chance. You can imagine what happened, I’m sure.”

“Vividly."

“He actually ended up being quite shit in bed. I told Sassy afterwards, assuming she’d find it hilarious, but she was livid, thinking I’d done it to mock her, make her jealous. She was still in a relationship, mind you. It all just came out after that, the way she really felt about me. That’s when I decided enough was enough. Found Mrs. Shipley’s advert the very next day.”

“Have you talked to her since?”

“Yes. A couple of years after the fight, I still hadn’t forgiven her, but I made her wedding dress anyway. And it might be a little selfish, but if I do call Sass, it’s usually an excuse to go squeeze her darling little daughter whom I send Christmas gifts to every year.”

Ted smiled sadly. There it was, that big, noble heart of hers showing itself.

“I’ve no idea if she’s really happy. Whenever I speak to her, it always seems like she resents that her life has become so ordinary. Considering I’m unmarried and childless, I’m aware that from the outside, my life appears rather glamorous and wild, though as you can see, it clearly isn’t. But I get anxious about sharing anything with her for fear she’d misconstrue it as bragging. So we’ve never been close again, if we ever really were.”

There was a deep sadness in her as she told the story. It broke Ted’s heart. He hearkened back to what she’d said on the ship: It was the cruelest thing imaginable to let someone make you their whole world when they’re just a speck in yours. Ted now understood she hadn’t only been talking about her father.

Aside from those two anecdotes, Rebecca made no mention of any other significant relationships. That didn’t mean there weren’t any, of course; she had no obligation to reveal every piece of her personal history to him. Though, he thought, he wouldn’t mind if she did, if only so he could see her life laid out before him like a map charting the journey of how she’d become the woman he loved.

With his schedule still quite scattered, Ted often found himself at her flat alone. He wasn’t fond of idleness, it gave his mind too much space to think, so he sought out ways to fill his time. He visited Mrs. Shipley almost daily, helping her with house chores and making Rebecca’s biscuits until he knew the recipe by heart.

Ted even got to know some of Rebecca’s other neighbors, giving himself a reputation as something of a jack of all trades.

Rebecca nearly jumped out of her skin when one evening there was a knock on the door; Mr. Wei from next door’s dog had escaped through a hole in the garden fence. Not only did Ted and Rebecca spend an hour wandering around Richmond, shaking a tin of dog treats and shouting her name until they found her asleep in a bush, but Ted spent another hour repairing the hole in the fence in the dark, Rebecca holding the flashlight.

When there wasn’t anything to be getting on with, he asked Rebecca if he could borrow A Room with a View since it was her favorite book. The experience of reading it made his heart sing. Not only was it an excellent novel, but Rebecca’s copy was well-loved. She’d made little scribbles in the margins, clearly having reread it several times since she sometimes annotated her own annotations.

In the second to last chapter, there was a quote she’d underlined three times in three different pens:

“It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.”

Ted, whose tears were falling alongside Lucy’s as George’s father convinced her not to throw her life away for anything less than love, stood up and found a pencil. With a little electric thrill, like was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, he added one more underline beneath the quote and wrote into the margin: The poets are right. I’ll love you forever.

It was an admission beyond what he’d even truly realized up to that point, but somehow he knew it was true.

Ted had never much thought about the future, believing too strongly that nothing in life was certain, but without him noticing, his had begun to take shape in his mind and in every version of it, Rebecca was there.

Rebecca on the bow of a ship, exchanging wedding vows with him. Rebecca’s head in his lap while they both read books in Richmond Park. Rebecca laughing as she scooped a blonde child up in her arms. Rebecca’s confidence granting him courage as they walked arm in arm down a red carpet for one of her runway shows. Rebecca white-haired and wrinkled and spotty with age, her green eyes as sparkling as ever.

When he finished the book, he tucked it back onto the shelf. Ted had no idea when she might find his note, but figured if she’d read the book three times, she was likely to do so again, so he trusted she’d find it when the time was right.

One day, he returned to the flat after a business meeting, knowing Rebecca would be out for a few more hours. When he turned into the main room, he stopped in his tracks. Laying across the sofa was an open black leather case, a beautiful dreadnought guitar enclosed in the red velvet. Tucked beneath the strings was a note that read:

So you can play me a few chords.
XO
R

Winter had relinquished its grip on London by the end of April. As spring began to bloom across the city, Rebecca dragged Ted on an all-day cherry blossom tour of London parks, perhaps the most touristy activity she was willing to participate in.

Ted had obviously not anticipated needing warmer weather clothes, and Rebecca was all too eager to play dress-up with him, so she took him shopping. She even, after quite a lot of hemming and hawing, persuaded him to try on a tight-fitting crop top.

“This looks ridiculous,” he muttered as he stood in the changing room doorway, “Right?”

Rebecca bit her lip as she dragged her eyes gratuitously over his torso and the exposed part of his belly, following the happy trail that disappeared into the hem of his jeans.“Ridiculous, yeah,” she said dreamily.

“Ten years ago I coulda pulled this off, sure. But now, I mean, I look desperate. Like I’m tryin’ to be one of those young stallions on the Green playing…what d'ya call it?”

“Footy,” Rebecca replied absentmindedly, resisting the urge to shove him into the dressing room and beg him to fuck her against the wall right then.

“I can’t wear this in public,” he laughed sardonically.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t let you out of the house in that.”

“See? I–” Ted finally clocked the wicked gleam in Rebecca’s eyes. “Oh. Do they sell them in different colors? We can get one for every day of the week…”

One evening, Rebecca returned home to find the door unlocked and the house empty. She tried to remember if Ted had told her about some kind of engagement, but nothing came to mind.

Confusion twisted into concern when she saw his wallet and key on the kitchen counter. She quickly traded her heels for a pair of trainers and went downstairs to see if he was with Mrs. Shipley. He wasn’t, but she told Rebecca they’d been chatting earlier and he’d made a hasty exit, seemingly a little upset. Rebecca asked what they’d discussed but Mrs. Shipley, the poor dear, couldn’t remember.

Rebecca figured he couldn’t have gotten far without any of his things, and she was torn between waiting for him to return and going out to look for him. In the end, she chose the latter because she was too ill at ease to sit around and wait.

She set off on their usual walking path through the neighborhood towards Richmond Park. Luckily, sunlight still dappled the sky, but it was rapidly darkening. It was twilight by the time she spotted a familiar figure just off the path, crouched down with his back pressed against a large oak tree, a fist pressed into his forehead.

Rebecca started to dash towards him, but instinctively felt that she needed to slow down as she approached. “Ted,” she said gently, kneeling down in front of him to get to his eye level, caring little that her knees were sucked into cold mud. Ted was unresponsive, practically catatonic. “Ted,” she said again, a little more firmly. He looked up, but his eyes were unfocused, she could tell he wasn’t really seeing her. The fist dropped from his forehead, fingers still clawed up tightly, and Rebecca took his hand between her own. “Ted,” she cooed as he struggled to inhale.

“I…I don’t know what’s happening,” he stammered, his voice strangled.

“You’re safe. Is it okay if I touch your hand?”

Ted managed a nod. She turned his palm and pressed it to her own chest, taking a deep inhale. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Y–yes,” he said. Rebecca took another slow, steady breath. Ted’s responding breath was shallow, staccato, but he was present enough to try.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. Ted. This will pass. Just breathe.” Rebecca cupped the side of his face and sat with him until his breath started to slow and his eyes started to clear.

Rebecca moved to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, his muscles stiff and strained. “Are you feeling better?”

“I…I think so,” he said slowly, “I feel like I can breathe again.”

“That’s good.” She pressed a kiss to his temple, holding him firmly until she felt him relax beneath her. They sat like that in silence for a long time.

“You’re all muddy,” Ted said at last, his voice sounding more like normal.

“You, too.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“I have a sixth sense when it comes to you, it seems.”

“Can we go home?”

“Of course.” Rebecca helped him stand, draping his arm around her shoulder as they walked in silence. He still seemed a bit dazed by the time they got home, so Rebecca led him into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and helped ease him out of his clothes. “If you need anything at all, just call for me. I’ll be right here.”

Rebecca took all of their mud-stained clothes and tossed them in the washer. She ordered a pizza and made a cup of tea while she waited for Ted, unsure what he’d want to do next.

Eventually, she heard the water shut off and a short while later, Ted emerged, his uncombed damp hair a curtain over his eyes. He sat down in the chair opposite her at the kitchen table, averting his gaze.

“There’s pizza on the way if you’re hungry,” she said, observing him over the rim of her teacup.

“Thanks.”

Rebecca felt trepidation, not sure how best to approach the situation. She tried to keep her voice calm, but firm, compassionate, but not patronizing. “Ted, I want you to know that I’m here for whatever you need. If you want to talk about it, if you don’t, either way, I’m here no matter what.”

Ted met her gaze, brushing the hair away from his eyes. He looked exhausted, but he smiled, the smile just grazing his eyes so she knew it was genuine. “I’m sorry if I scared you–”

“The last thing you need to worry about is apologizing to me for anything. Alright?”

“Sor–” he caught himself with a grin, “Alright. I shoulda told you…This wasn’t the first time. The first time it happened I called 911 because I thought I was dyin’. A little overdramatic, I know, but that’s how it feels. Have you experienced something like that before?”

Rebecca shook her head, “I haven’t. It sounds frightening, though.”

“I was down at Mrs. Shipley’s, askin’ her questions about her husband and everything was fine. Until it wasn’t. Somehow she started talkin’ about his death. How it happened on Friday the 13th. September. 1974. The same day my father…”

Rebecca’s mouth suddenly went very dry. When she tried to swallow it was like swallowing razor blades, ripping a horrible cough from her lungs.

“Hey, are you alright?” Ted looked up at her, body suddenly tense like he was poised to leap across the table and perform the Heimlich on her.

She took a sip of tea and tapped a fist against her chest. “Sorry. September 13th, 1974 is a significant day for all of us, it seems. But we aren’t talking about me–”

“No. It’s alright. What happened that day for you?”

“It’s silly. It’s just the day when I found my father…you know.” She waved her palm dismissively.

“Rebecca, it’s not silly. We’re not competing for a gold medal in Who Had the Worst Day on September 13th, 1974. This isn’t the tragedy Olympics, okay?”

Rebecca’s chest swelled with sorrow, with understanding, with something else as he said those words. She’d often been made to feel childish for considering it one of the worst days of her life when there was so much unimaginable suffering in the world.

“Okay. But listen, Ted. I’m really, truly sorry. For what happened. I’m not sure I’ve ever said it.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You did, though. The first night we met, remember?”

She did. She remembered reaching out and grabbing a stranger’s hand because she needed him to understand his pain wasn’t his to carry alone. Rebecca did the same thing now, both hands taking Ted’s between them, bringing his knuckles up to her lips.

“If you ever feel like talking about it will help you rather than cause you more pain, I’m ready to listen,” she whispered.

He brought his other hand up to rest on the outside of hers, his eyes landing on hers, “Ditto.”

Chapter Text

“You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,” Ted, sitting shirtless on the open windowsill, sang, “Come on, baby, you know it by now!” Ted vamped on the guitar, “Know when to walk away and know when to–” He pointed towards her.

Rebecca yanked the duvet over her head and groaned, “Shut up!”

“Not quite!” Ted circled back to the same refrain, “You gotta know when to hold ‘em–”

“I’m going to throw that guitar out the bloody window,” Rebecca laughed as she peeked out from under the duvet.

“Know when to fold em–”

“I wish you knew when to ‘fold ‘em’–”

Ted kept singing, more loudly, “Know when to walk away, know when to–”

“You better run.” Rebecca grabbed a pillow from the bed and chucked it at him.

Ted turned his body to the side, the pillow harmlessly hitting him and falling to the floor. “I’m gonna count that as a win,” he laughed, setting the guitar down and diving into the bed, pulling the duvet up so he could wiggle in next to her.

“Is this a tactic that has worked for you in the past?” Rebecca flipped onto her side and hitched her leg up over his hips, his hand gripping her thigh.

“What tactic?” he hummed innocently.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and lightly pinched his side, making him squirm. “Annoying people into submission.”

“I like to think of it as a ‘charm offensive’, actually, and it seems to have worked on you.” He gave her thigh a little squeeze.

“Oh, you think it was your charm that landed you here?” Rebecca propped herself up on her elbow.

Ted rolled onto his side to face her, “Alright. If it wasn’t my charm, what was it?”

“Hmmm,” Rebecca reached around him and grabbed a handful of his ass. “This didn’t play an insignificant part,” she teased, giving it a smack as she let go.

“Ahhh. An ass girl, huh?” he chuckled. “I’d buy it if I hadn’t been sittin’ down for the entire conversation before you propositioned me.”

Rebecca faked a shocked gasp. “Me proposition you? Which one of us offered to buy a bottle of wine?”

“That might’ve just been a friendly gesture.” Ted shrugged.

She raised a skeptical brow. “Was it?”

“Well…no…” She laughed, the sound of it like music to his ears.

“And what about you? Why did you choose to come sit next to me at dinner?”

“I will start by apologizing for the fact that sometimes, I am no better than any other man, because this," he snaked his arm around her to squeeze her ass, “played no small part. You were hard to miss, wearin’ that red dress.” He whistled at the memory. “I thought to myself, ‘now there’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,’ and I knew I’d kick myself forever if I didn’t take a shot.”

“Well, truthfully, what sold me was your whole Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid thing.“

“Robert Redford or Paul Newman?”

“Both. I guess we’re just two shallow peas in a pod,” she mused.

“Nah. I think we just have eyes. I promise I was not the only one lookin’ at ya, Rebecca.” A pink flush rose high on her cheeks. “Have you ever noticed the way you turn heads when you walk into a room? You’re like a little center of gravity, pullin’ us all into your orbit.”

Rebecca snorted, “I imagine people are just horrified because I’m a tall woman who wears heels, which according to many magazines is a turnoff for men.”

“Is that so?” Ted traced his fingers all the way from the crease of Rebecca’s hip down to her ankle. “I don’t think the magazines have seen the way your legs look when you wear heels.”

“Very emasculating for a woman to be taller than you, I’m told.”

“I guess if that’s emasculating then I don’t want to be…uh…masculated.”

“Think the word is just ‘masculine’, Ted,” she laughed and kissed his jaw and the corner of his mouth. “If I do have gravitational pull, it's because I'm a black hole: you know, mysterious, alluring from a distance, but get too close and I’ll crush you in a miserable void of nothing.” Her smile faltered and Ted furrowed his brow at her, his mouth twisting into a frown.

“Do you see yourself that way?” Ted asked, hoping to catch her before she drifted into that distant, unreachable place.

“Oh, fuck me. We were having a nice time and I ruined it,” Rebecca sighed, flipping onto her back, using her palms to drag the skin of her face downward.

Ted pushed himself onto his elbow, his opposite hand flattening against her stomach, the pad of his thumb brushing circles onto it, hoping the gentle pressure encouraged her to stay present with him.

“You know that saying, ‘if everyone is an arsehole everywhere you go, maybe the arsehole is you?’” Ted nodded. “It’s like that. If everyone runs away when they get too close to me…Well, I’m the common denominator in all of those situations, aren’t I.” She didn’t say it like a question, but like a foregone conclusion.

“For starters, there’s plenty of assholes in the world, so it’s theoretically possible you’ll find them everywhere you go.” The corner of her mouth twitched at that. “And, more importantly, you’ve got one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen.” Ted’s hand slid from her stomach to her chest, pressing his palm against her heart, unsure whether the beat he felt was her’s or his own pulse, maybe both.

“Please,” she scoffed.

“I’m serious! Take Mrs. Shipley for example. You don’t just watch her cat and change her light bulbs. You take her to doctor’s appointments and call her daughters to explain what’s going on. You babysit her grandchildren when she needs a break. You make sure she’s not alone on her birthday. And you ask for nothing in return.”

“Anyone would do that for an old woman–”

“No, Rebecca. They really wouldn’t.” Rebecca still looked dubious. “But if that isn't enough, how about this: You handmade a wedding gown for someone who, from the way I see it, turned your love for her into a string to yank you around with. How many hours did you spend making it? Did Sassy pay you for your time? Did you even think to ask her to? Hell, did she even thank you?” Rebecca was silent, staring at the ceiling, which was answer enough. “You wanna know what I think?”

He could see Rebecca chewing the inside of her cheek.

Ted leaned over so his face was between her eyes and the ceiling, and he placed a gentle hand on the side of her face, “I’m gonna tell you anyway.” He held her gaze as he said quietly, “I think a heart that big is an easy target, so you have to build giant walls to protect it. But that doesn’t make it any less big, just harder to see.”

A crystal tear welled up in the corner of her bright, green eye, and rolled sideways down her temple, pooling against Ted’s hand. That tear was followed by more. Ted scooped his arm underneath her shoulders and cradled her against his chest.

He kissed her head and whispered, “It’s okay, darlin’. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Rebecca was practically floating. It was as though something that had long weighed her down had broken loose and fallen away, leaving her airy and free.

She caught herself doing ridiculous things like humming in public, smiling and nodding to strangers she passed on the street, cooing at babies in prams, getting a little weepy when she spotted an older couple walking ahead of her, holding hands.

It was a Friday afternoon. The weather was blissfully warm, a false summer that lured everyone outside. London was humming with life, vibrant and beautiful. So beautiful that Rebecca decided to dip out of work early and take a long route home, only wishing Ted was there, too.

She stopped at the market, deciding she’d surprise Ted with a picnic dinner they could enjoy together at the park.

When she returned home, she dropped the needle back onto The Gambler, still sitting on the record player, and threw open all the windows.

She set about preparing small bites for their picnic: washing the grapes, cubing some cheese, stacking crackers. She started to slice a cucumber for finger sandwiches and, feeling a bit peckish, idly took a bite. Much to her horror, it nearly made her sick. “What the fuck?” she muttered before she spit the mashed up cucumber bits into the sink. She picked up the unsliced piece and sniffed it. That made her wretch. Assuming it must’ve gone off, she dumped it in the bin and thought little else about it.

As she was packing away the food, the phone rang. Rebecca picked up the receiver, hoping it wasn’t a sales call but figuring it probably was, and said shortly, “This is Rebecca.”

The other end of the call was silent for a moment.

“Hello?” Rebecca said again.

“Sorry…” Rebecca was mildly surprised to hear an American’s, presumably a woman’s, voice. “I think I must have the wrong number.”

“That’s ok–” but the other person had already hung up. “Alright, then.” She set the receiver down and went back to packing up the food.

A short while later, she heard the front door swing open.

“In the kitchen!” she called out to him, knowing he wouldn’t expect her to be here.

Ted entered, wearing a bright smile and looking ridiculously rakish in his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt, jacket slung over his elbow.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyes falling onto the wicker basket.

“Well, today was your last scheduled meeting, and we shouldn’t waste such a beautiful day, so I thought we could celebrate with a picnic.”

“No time I spend with you is ever wasted, but that sounds perfect.” He stepped forward and took her into his arms, kissing her deeply. It made her swoon every time.

“So how did it go?”

“Trent Crimm, Rosewood Hotel is officially my third favorite person in London, after you and Rowan Atkinson.”

“A success, I take it?”

“Yup. Gonna sign a three year contract, just to start.”

“Ted, that’s wonderful.” She gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Hey, I couldn’t’ve done it without your intel. He’s a tough nut to crack, but once I asked him about his daughter, he turned to goo. By the way, I’m supposed to tell you to give him a call about Rita…someone?”

“Ugh,” Rebecca groaned, “Noted.”

“Well, now I wanna know what that’s all about.”

“Oh, Trent and I have a little arrangement where I spill the gossip about my clients who book their weddings there. In exchange, he gives me vouchers to the hotel spa. Alright. Get changed. You can give me the erm…play-by-play?”

Ted nodded. "Excellent use of sports terminology."

“-When we get to the park.”

They spent several luxurious hours together at the park. Ted brought his guitar, even getting a few coins tossed their way by random passersby as he played. They stayed until the sun sank low, the air turning chill. Ted gave Rebecca his sweater so they could hold out a bit longer, but then she noticed that he started to shiver and decided it was time to head back to their home.

Rebecca wasn’t sure when her home had become their home, but she found it sat with her rather well.

On the way home, they stopped to rent a video, deciding on the Merchant Ivory adaptation of A Room With a View in celebration of Ted finishing the book, and also purchased some ice cream for good measure.

Towards the end of the film, Rebecca, who had seen it numerous times, was dozing off, but Ted was hooked. She played big spoon, wedged comfortably between Ted and the back cushions, her arm curled up inside his t-shirt, her knees folded into the backs of his.

Why was she so bloody tired?

She was roused from a semi-sleep by the phone ringing. “Can you answer it?” she said sleepily, having no desire to move from the sofa, but awake enough to think that if someone was calling this late it might be important.

She whined a little as the warmth of Ted’s body vanished, but he placed a blanket over her in his stead. A poor substitute, but it kept the warmth in at least.

Rebecca listened as his footsteps disappeared into the kitchen, the phone stopping mid-ring, Ted’s faint voice saying, “Howdy!” but sleep was tugging her back into its grasp and she was too weak to resist.

The next thing she knew, her eyes opened to credits rolling over the TV screen. Her eyes focused on Ted sitting next to her, lightly jostling her shoulder.

He wore a strange expression, but she was too tired to make sense of it. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, brushing some of her hair out of her eyes.

“It’s over?”

“It is. And they were all ghosts the whole time. Weird take on the source material, right?” He smiled.

“Who was on the phone?” she mumbled, pressing the heel of her palm into her eye.

“Oh, just a sales call,” he said quickly. “Let’s get to bed, alright? I can give you my full review in the morning.”

“Hmmm…But I want to end this perfect day by ravishing you…” She pushed herself up, hoping that getting her blood moving might chase the sleepiness away.

“Darlin’, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’m f-fi–” The word was interrupted by an enormous yawn.

“Alright. If you’re still awake by the time I finish brushing my teeth, we’ll have sex. Deal?”

“Deal.”

***

Rebecca did not keep up her end of the deal. She fell asleep almost as quickly as her head hit the pillow.

She woke the next morning to a spring rainstorm, water pounding against the roof, the light outside the window dim and grey. Instinctively, her arm reached out to the space next to her bed, but she was surprised to find Ted wasn’t there.

His side of the bed was rumpled and unmade. For some reason Rebecca had a sinking feeling in her gut. Did he have another panic attack while she was sleeping?

She was sorry to leave the warmth of the bed. The floorboards were a cold shock to her feet and the air had apparently forgotten its summer-like warmth from yesterday. She put on her slippers and left the bedroom, her ears perked, listening for any sign of Ted.

“Ted?” she called out, checking each room as she passed by it.

“Living room,” he said softly.

She found him sitting in the armchair by the window, staring out at the overcast sky and relentless fall of rain. “Ted, are you okay?” she said with concern as his entire body was coiled with tension and apprehension. “Are you having a panic attack?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m okay now.”

“Now?”

He gave her a guilty smile.

“Oh, Ted. You can wake me up next time, okay?” She rushed over and kissed the top of his head, checking him over. He was trembling and a damp sweat had broken out on his brow. She turned on the radiator and snatched the blanket from the sofa, wrapping it around his shoulders. “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head again.

“Okay. I’m going to brush my teeth and make some coffee. I’ll be right back.”

Rebecca returned as quickly as she could. She set a glass of water and a plate with toast onto the table next to him, figuring it was unlikely he’d eat it, but ensuring it was there in case he wanted to.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Rebecca sat on the sofa opposite him, cupping a mug of coffee between her palms.

Ted swallowed, apparently finding it difficult, so he drank a sip of water. He sighed and turned to face her, though she got the distinct impression that he was doing so against his will. “I lied to you, Rebecca.”

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. “What are you talking about?” Rebecca set her mug down on the coffee table, suddenly feeling like holding a hot beverage was a bad idea.

“Last night. You asked who called. I told you it was a salesperson. But I lied.” Ted’s voice was uncharacteristically flat, his sentences short and staccato, as though his mouth resisted each word.

“Okay…” Rebecca was baffled. “Who was it?” Her mind was spiraling, trying to make sense of it. Had something happened to her mother and he’d wanted to tell her when she was fully conscious? Dread bloomed through her chest as she awaited his answer.

“It was Michelle.”

“Michelle?” Rebecca tried to place the name in her memory, but she came up short.

“My…ex.”

“Oh?” Rebecca said questioningly, unsure how to react to this information. Why would his ex be calling him here?

She felt dumbfounded, lost. Had she really never asked Ted his ex’s name? Aside from the reference he’d made to her on that first night, assuming this was the same ‘high school girlfriend’, they hadn’t really talked about her. He’d made a few offhand references, but Rebecca, perhaps out of subconscious jealousy, hadn’t ever pressed him for more. Like all things she now knew about him, she figured he’d tell her anything worth telling in time. Had it been selfish of her not to ask?

“Is everything okay? Is your mum alright?”

“Shit,” Ted groaned, “I’m sorry. I’m making you play the world’s worst game of Jeopardy. Mom is fine. Nobody is…hurt or anything like that.” He took another glass of water. “I know we haven’t talked about Michelle much, and that’s on me, because there are things I should’ve told you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry for that.”

“Ted…please. What are you saying?” Rebecca’s nerves were fit to burst, her mind spinning out toward the worst possible explanations.

“Michelle was more than just my high school girlfriend. She was my fiancée, actually. Up until a couple of months ago. We were supposed to be gettin’ married in June.”

It was a bit surprising that the relationship had been perhaps more serious than he’d led her to believe, but it wasn’t an egregious offense.

“What happened?”

Ted ran a hand over his unshaven face. “I broke it off. A few days before we got on the ship.”

“Jesus.” She blinked. So she’d been rebound sex? Again…Surprising, maybe a little hurtful that he hadn’t been forthright, but not a crime. The sex wasn't supposed to have meant anything, anyway.

“It’d been coming on for a long time. I pulled the trigger knowing I’d be gone for two weeks so she’d have time to pack, figure out what she was gonna do next without me gettin' in her hair.”

“Was it…a bad break-up?”

“It wasn’t a good one.” Ted drank some more water. “We got together when we were fifteen. She was my first everything…or rather, I thought she was.” Rebecca couldn’t quite decode that. “Then she dumped me over winter break freshman year of college. Didn’t like the whole long distance thing, I guess. It hurt, but I was young. I bounced back, figured I’d meet someone else in school. Then after my dad passed, I moved back home, and Michelle was there. My mom was leaning on me, so it was nice to have someone I could lean on.”

“I understand,” Rebecca sympathized, knowing that she would've appreciated having someone to lean on through her grief.

“And she moved to Napa with me. She's a high school math teacher so she was good at helpin' out with the numbers in those early days. Things were nice, easy. But we kept getting older, the vineyard started doing well and took up less of our energy, the pain of my dad’s loss lessened a bit, and I started to realize what I wanted out of life…” He dropped off again.

“What?” Rebecca encouraged him to continue.

“Marriage. Kids,” his voice was strained as he said it. “Michelle…wasn’t so sure. Marriage, she could get behind, so I proposed. Kids? Not so much, but she said maybe. And I was the asshole who thought ‘maybe’ was just a ‘yes, but not right now,’ and to her it was a nicer way of saying ‘no.’ It wasn’t fair to either of us,” he sighed, catching Rebecca’s eye briefly.

Rebecca’s heart started hammering in her chest. She could hardly even admit to herself that she wanted children, too, yet she nearly told Ted right in that moment, but she bit her tongue, wanting him to air out everything he was going to say rather than steal the moment from him.

“Without meanin’ to, I was puttin’ pressure on her. I got a bit overbearing, I think, tryin’ to hang on tighter because I felt her slippin’ away. I realize now that I loved Michelle, I still do.” Rebecca’s breath hitched a little, her muscles tensing. “But I wasn’t in love with her.”

As he said that, their eyes met, something unspoken taking shape between them.

It was Ted who shattered the silence. “I denied it for a while. Quittin' would mean admittin' we'd wasted half our damn lives on each other. But it wasn’t quittin’. It was just…lettin’ go.” Ted went silent again, an impossible array of emotions parading across his face. “I’m so sorry, Rebecca. I should’ve told you.”

“It’s…alright, Ted. I’m not angry. You told me now, that’s what matters.” She meant it, too. “But…I’m confused. Why did she call here? Is she…is she trying to get you back?” Rebecca furrowed her brows, trying to put the pieces together.

“No.” Ted leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “She’s pregnant, Rebecca.”

Rebecca was glad she put her coffee down because the mug surely would’ve slipped from her hand. The nausea she’d experienced from eating the cucumber yesterday roared back, forcing her to bolt to the toilet.

Christ, Rebecca, I know it’s shocking but isn’t this a bit overdramatic? she thought wryly as she bent over the toilet.

Half a second later, she felt Ted behind her, lifting her hair up and out of the way, his hand rubbing circles on her back. “Fuck,” Rebecca groaned, her voice reverberating almost humorously in the toilet bowl.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the bomb he’d dropped or the vomit or both, but either way, she couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or comforted by his presence.

The nausea passed. Rebecca started to stand, and Ted attempted to assist her, but she batted him away. “Can you give me just a minute?”

“Sure,” he said, quickly evacuating the room.

Rebecca flushed the toilet and moved to the sink, splashing some cold water on her face and swilling mouthwash through her teeth. She attempted a deep, slow breath through her nose, but it got caught up in her chest, making her cough instead. She fought her gag reflex back down and straightened up, smoothing her pajamas down before walking back to the living room.

Ted was a tight ball of tension on the sofa, face pressed between his hands, ironically looking for all the world like a first-time father awaiting the news that his child had been delivered, that both mother and baby were healthy. It made Rebecca want to cry.

She sat down next to him on the sofa, the change in pressure making his head pop up. “Hey. Are you feelin’ okay?”

“My stomach is fine,” she answered. No other part of her was ‘okay.’ Rebecca bit her lip, ignoring the tingling sensation in her nose that presaged tears. She didn’t want to say it, but she needed to know. Needed to understand the extent of what they were dealing with, here. “Did you know?”

“What? No. Of course I didn’t.” He seemed genuinely surprised by the suggestion. It gave her the tiniest bit of relief.

“How far along is she?”

“Thirteen weeks,” he replied somberly.

“How long has she known?”

“She took the first test the week we were on the ship.” Rebecca flinched. Somehow it pinned a dark cloud over that magical week. “Apparently, she thought about ending it right up until the last minute, so she didn’t want to say anything.”

“But she’s keeping it.”

“So it seems.”

Rebecca pulled her legs up onto the sofa and hugged her knees, feeling very small and powerless, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. “So what happens next?”

Ted’s eyes were also looking awfully glassy. “I don’t know. I’ve been up all night thinkin’ about it, and I still don’t know.”

“What did Michelle want?”

“She…she just said she wanted me to know. And that she’s scared.”

Rebecca bit her lip so hard it began to bleed, and the tears started falling anyway. “And what do you want, Ted?”

“I don’t…I…” He dragged the back of his hand across his eye. “I want this. I want us. I want to be here. Forget just the summer, I want to sell the vineyard and stay here with you as long as you’ll have me. I don’t want to g-go back to that life, but...” Ted grabbed fistfuls of his hair as a sob rattled his body.

Rebecca grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into her, echoing what he’d done for her the other day, holding him tightly as he sobbed into her chest.

Eventually, his cries softened and slowed, but he stayed pressed into her for a while longer, like it might be the last chance he'd have to hold her.

As she held him, Rebecca knew what she needed to do. Ted might not realize it now, but he would resent her if she stood in the way of him and his child, so she would remove herself from the equation. And it was going to hurt like hell.

“Ted.” Rebecca slowly relinquished her grip, gently urging him to sit upright. With effort, he managed it, though his body was still slumped and fatigued, eyes red and puffy from crying. She inhaled slowly, summoning every ounce of courage she possessed. “You have to go to her.”

“Rebecca–”

“Listen to me. I know it’s not how you wanted it to happen,” Rebecca bit back a sob of her own. “But this is real. It’s happening.”

“But so is this,” he said firmly, “You and me. This is real, too.”

Rebecca whispered, “I want you to stay, but–”

“Then why are you telling me to go?” he snapped, his voice barbed, his face twisted by anger, making him almost unrecognizable to her.

It stunned her for a moment, and she realized that this wasn’t going to be simple. There was no reasoning with a scared animal who’d been backed into a corner.

She shifted her cadence, her voice dropping low, “This is your fucking child, Ted. You…” She clenched her fist so tightly, nails biting into the heel of her palm. “You can’t pick a spring fling over your child,” she said as derisively as she could manage.

“A spring fling?” He sounded so wounded, so disbelieving. Her heart was so tight it may as well have stopped beating. “Is that what this is to you?”

Rebecca looked him dead in the eye, her jaw clenched, her body rigid. “Yes. And just like spring, it’ll pass.”

Ted sprang to his feet, one hand clutching the nape of his neck, the other tense at his side. “You are many things, Rebecca Welton, but I never took you for a fucking liar.”

Rebecca stood as well. It took every ounce of willpower she still had to square her shoulders to him, to keep her chin upright.

Making her voice as icy and cruel as the woman everybody thought she was, she said, “And I never took you for a coward.” Clearly her words found their mark because Ted looked like he’d been slapped. It hurt. It hurt her so badly, she had to keep her knees from buckling. “If you’re too cowardly to make the choice, then I’ll make it for you. I want you out of my home before you say another thing you’ll regret.”

Ted’s eyes were wide, his chest heaving, his face contorted by pain and confusion.

It was excruciating to look at.

“I’m going down to Mrs. Shipley’s. I’ll be back in an hour. You can leave the spare key on the kitchen table.”

Without another word, she turned and left, Ted’s shell-shocked face burned into her eyelids so she saw it every time she blinked.

As soon as the front door clicked shut behind her, she bit down on her balled fist, choking back sobs.

Rebecca didn’t go to Mrs. Shipley’s. Instead, she shoved her feet into the wellies she left next to the front door and she pushed out into the rain, hardly noticing as its bitterly cold drops soaked through the silk of her pajamas, biting into her skin and burrowing into her very bones.

Was this really how it ended? The last words she’d ever hear from Ted Lasso’s mouth, usually so honey sweet, would be him calling her a “fucking liar?" Well, it was fitting, at least, because she was one.

She’d been lying for weeks now. Because she was in love with Ted Lasso.

And even as anger erupted out of him, as he attempted to use her because he was scared, as she deliberately attempted to hurt him with her words, she loved him still.

It was too much to bear. Rebecca longed to rip her heart out of her chest, to throw it down a sewer drain, to never again feel pain like this.

What good was love if it hurt this much?

Slow dancing in the ship’s ballroom. Ted’s silhouette against the moonlight. The sunlight lighting up his face as she drew him. Ted with a proverbial hat in his hands as he asked for one more week with her. Ted curled up next to her on the sofa, reading her favorite book simply because it was her favorite book. Ted learning how to make biscuits just so he could make her smile. Ted singing that stupid song. Ted making her believe, for the first time in her entire life, that she deserved to be to be cherished, to be adored, to be loved.

I think it’s possible you do understand why people fall in love, after all.

Rebecca stopped walking, blinking herself back into awareness, unsure where her feet had carried her. Regaining her bearings, she turned around and broke into a run. Certainly no marathon athlete, her muscles stiff with cold, her pace was slow, but consistent.

There was still a chance to make things right. To tell Ted she knew they’d find one another again. To say I love you out loud.

She made it back home, panting, muscles screaming, and flung herself inside and up the stairs in a mad dash.

But the house was cold. Quiet.

“No. No, no, no…” Rebecca muttered as she walked into every room, checking every corner. But Ted’s presence was ripped clean from it as though he’d never been there at all, except for a lone guitar case on the floor of her bedroom.

Rebecca was dead tired, chilled to the bone, ravenously hungry, but she couldn’t give up, not just yet.

Quickly, she changed out of her miserably wet clothes into something far more suitable for the weather. She trotted downstairs and caught Mrs. Shipley, just as she was on her way out the door. Mrs. Shipley told her Ted had stopped by about half an hour ago to let her know he was headed to the airport and wanted to say goodbye.

Rebecca dashed back upstairs and called a cab, smoking a cigarette while she waited for it to arrive, watching as the rain dissipated.

The car ride to Heathrow was agonizing. Each time she caught sight of a plane overhead, she felt a little jolt of fear wondering if it was carrying Ted away from her.

Never before had Rebecca believed in fate, destiny, soulmates; those things were all just another of life’s fantasies, invented to help make sense of forces beyond human understanding. But this love was so profound, it’d made a believer out of her.

September 13th, 1974. The Queen Elizabeth 2. The universe was trying to pull them together. If their love was written in the stars, she had faith that she would find him. She’d found him in an entire world of people, after all, so what was one airport?

Ted desperately hoped this was a nightmare he would wake up from at any moment.

Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the sofa listening to Rebecca’s slow, soft breaths as she laid behind him, pressed into his back like a perfect puzzle piece. Maybe the phone had never rung. Maybe Michelle had never said the words ‘I’m pregnant’ to him. Maybe the ground beneath his feet was stable. Maybe, for once, he could just be happy.

But he hadn’t fallen asleep.

He was all too awake, frozen in shock, a rictus of anger and panic as he watched Rebecca walk out the door.

Maybe she’ll come back, he thought idly. But she didn’t. Eventually, he unfroze. He considered going downstairs after her, throwing himself at her feet and apologizing.

But she’d been quite clear. She wanted him to go, so he would go.

Numbly, he set about gathering his things, messily shoving them into a suitcase that was now too small to contain everything he’d acquired.

He stared at the guitar case, unable to decide whether he should take it with him, but ultimately choosing to leave it behind. Looking at it would hurt too much.

He called a cab. He put the spare key on the kitchen table. He made sure the door locked behind him.

At the bottom of the stairs, he stared at Mrs. Shipley’s door. He didn’t want his last words to Rebecca to be ones spoken in anger, so he decided to knock on the door. Mrs. Shipley told him that Rebecca wasn’t there. He twinged with worry, imagining her out in the rain, but she could take care of herself. She always had. Mrs. Shipley invited him in, but he told her he was going to the airport and heading home, even though it really felt like he was leaving home.

As he sat in the back of the cab, his thoughts consumed him. He barely noticed the city flying by out the windows, forgetting that this was the last time he'd see these buildings and streets, the city he'd grown to love.

He’d been a fool. Presumptuous enough to believe he understood Rebecca, that he knew what was in her heart even if she didn’t say it out loud. Because he could’ve sworn that she loved him, too.

He hated himself then. If he had just said the words, maybe things would be different somehow.

But, another part of him thought maybe it would’ve been worse. If they’d professed their love to each other, it wouldn’t make Michelle any less pregnant. What choices would have been left to them? Ask Michelle to move to London so Ted could have his love and his child? Ask Rebecca to uproot her life and idle away in California while he raised another woman’s child? Both of those scenarios required them to sacrifice everything and him nothing. It wasn’t fair.

But there was the third option, the one he had wanted Rebecca to make for him. The one where Ted walked away from the child, and he chose Rebecca.

Michelle hadn’t asked him to come back, hadn’t indicated that she wanted his involvement. If ending the pregnancy had been her choice, he would’ve respected it. If keeping it was her choice, he respected that, too. But Michelle was his past. Rebecca was his future. What obligation did he really have to this child?

He felt sick just thinking it.

Ted’s world had been shattered when his father killed himself. The anger he felt over it still roiled within him, less intensely than it had once, but it was there. How could someone bring a child into the world and then choose to abandon them in it? It was selfish. It was cowardice–

And I never took you for a coward.

There it was. Of course she’d been right.

And just like spring, it’ll pass.

Had she really meant that?

Ted had put her in a horrible position. Becoming a father was the scariest thing he could imagine, though it was something he’d always wanted. And instead of being an adult, being brave enough to choose the hard path, he wanted her to give him permission to cave to cowardice. He tried to use her, and she’d seen right through it.

Because that coldness, that quiet, scornful anger, that wasn’t Rebecca. That was the mask Rebecca wore to protect herself.

“Hey, there,” Ted said to the cabbie, “Sorry about this, but I forgot something at home. Can you head back there?”

Ted barely felt in control of his actions, but his gut told him this wasn’t the end. He didn’t know how it could work, but they were meant to be together. Somehow, they’d figure it out. They just needed the chance.

The cab pulled up to the curb, and Ted nearly ducked and rolled out the door before the car came to a complete stop.

He ran up the garden path and pounded his fist on the door, ringing the doorbell like a madman. “Rebecca!” he called upward, framing his lips with his hands to amplify his voice. “Mrs. Shipley?” He went to the gnome and lifted the hat, but the spare key obviously hadn’t been returned yet.

He shouted their names again, but there was no answer. The house was still and dark.

He wasn’t sure if Rebecca was gone or just ignoring him. She’d have been perfectly justified if it was the latter. He still couldn’t even be sure she’d want to see him, and the clock was ticking. The decision, he felt, should rest in her hands.

Making a game-time decision, he dashed back to the cab and rifled through his bag to find paper and pen, his fingers landing on the notepad from the QE2 that they’d pulled Rebecca’s sketch of him from and taped to her wall.

Resting the notepad against the boot of the cab, he began to write.

Rebecca stayed at Heathrow until night fell, watching the final flight to America on the board change from “Boarding” to “Departed.”

She’d failed. All day, she’d wandered through the crowds, hoping beyond hope that she’d sense him somehow. Surely some instinct would compel her to look to the right and she’d find him there.

But she didn’t.

If finding him was a sign of some cosmic destiny telling them they were meant to be together, then maybe not finding him was a sign, too.

Air wasn’t reaching her lungs properly. She pressed a hand to her diaphragm like she was trying to remind her body it needed to breathe to keep her alive. She hadn’t shed a tear the entire day, but now they came like they were making up for lost time. Rebecca collapsed into a chair, burying her face into her hands. The airport was quiet enough now that she knew her cries echoed through the cavernous space, but she didn’t particularly care.

Rebecca jumped as a voice started to speak from the chair next to her though she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?”

She looked over to see a man, perhaps a few years older than her, in an airport employee uniform. His face was round and kindly, little circular wire-framed glasses perched on his nose.

Rebecca nodded, attempting to take a deep, shaky breath to calm herself down.

“Apologies for interrupting, but we’re duty-bound to approach very…emotional people. For safety reasons.”

“I understand,” she laughed weakly, “Gosh, how embarrassing to cause such a scene. I’ve just…said goodbye to someone very important.”

“Ah. If I may offer some paraphrased words of wisdom I think about in times like these," he paused to clear his throat, "'Even grief is a joy in time to one who has lived and endured.'”

Rebecca looked up at him, “Is that from The Odyssey?”

“More or less,” he said. “Stay as long as you need. I’ll make sure security doesn’t toss you out.”

Chapter Text

1998

“So,” Rebecca brushed a tear away from her eye, doing her best not to smudge her makeup, “That’s the story of how I met your father.”

Opposite Rebecca, Ellie sat cross-legged, leaning back against Keeley whose arms were thrown around her shoulders. They wore twinned expressions, doe-eyed and mouths slightly agape.

“Oh my God, Rebecca! You’ve just kept this secret all this time?” Keeley’s bottom lip protruded and big, cartoony tears started to fall from her eyes.

“Mum—” Ellie seemed lost for words. Instead, she leapt forward and threw her arms around Rebecca’s waist. Keeley joined in a moment later, the three of them melting into a weepy puddle.

“You’re going to tell me all the porn-y details you left out of this version of the story later, yeah?” Keeley clutched Rebecca’s face between her hands, laughing through her tears.

“Ewww, Keeley,” Ellie moaned from under Rebecca’s arm.

“‘Course I will.” Rebecca winked at Keeley.

“Ewww, mum!”

Rebecca smoothed a hand over Ellie’s blonde hair and gently tilted her chin up so Rebecca could look at her eyes. “Darling, do you think you could try to forgive me for not telling you about him sooner?”

“I forgive you,” she said, “And I’m sorry for being a bit of a dick about it.”

Keeley clapped a hand over her mouth, Rebecca snorted a surprised laugh, “‘A bit of a dick?’ Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

Ellie went bright red. “Roy said it at lunch. I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to apologize, darling. For that or anything else. All you wanted was to know where you came from, and I was wrong for not telling you. I take accountability for that, and I’ll figure out how to make it up to you, alright?”

Ellie smiled.

“And we’ll start with…with me asking you a very grown up question. And it’s okay to take some time to think about it before you answer, okay?”

“Okay,” Ellie said nervously.

“Now that you know the truth, and now that you’ve met him, is getting to know Te—Your father,” the word was still strange for her to say, “something you’d like?”

“Will it hurt your feelings if I say yes?”

“Oh, what did I ever do to deserve you?” Rebecca pressed a kiss into her hair. “Of course it won’t hurt my feelings. All I ever want in this life is for you to be happy.”

“Then…yes. I’d like it very much.”

“Okay. I’ll speak with him. We’ll…we’ll figure it out.” Keeley caught Rebecca’s eye, clearly sensing the sadness she was doing her best to disguise, and she took Rebecca’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Rebecca squeezed back, feeling only mild relief that she’d gotten one thing off her chest. “Alright. Now that I’ve offered to pay for an outrageously expensive dinner, you all need to look the part. Why don’t you hop in the shower first, Ellie?”

Ellie gave Rebecca another hug that might’ve crushed Rebecca’s ribs if she hadn’t been a scrawny 11 year old, and she scampered away.

As soon the water turned on, Keeley turned to Rebecca, a half-smile tugging at her lip. She started speaking, her voice low to make sure Ellie wouldn’t overhear. “Babe—”

“Don’t say it, Keeley.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to say!” she said, still quiet, but a bit offended.

“You’re going to say that this was the most romantic story you’ve ever heard, that it sounds like I’m still in love with Ted, that I not only need to figure out him and Ellie, but also him and me. Did I get it all?”

“No," Keeley replied peevishly, “I was also going to ask if you still had that red dress that got Ted all hot and bothered because I’d really fucking like to see it.”

Rebecca laughed. “The dress is long gone, I’m afraid. Couldn’t get it over my hips after I pushed a child through my birth canal.” She quirked her lips. “I might have a photo, though.”

“Thank you.” Keeley's smile shifted into a more serious expression. “...Are you?”

“What?”

Keeley’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Still in love with Ted?”

Rebecca bit her lip, turning the question over in her mind. “Neither of us are the people we were 12 years ago. I don’t know this Ted. Not to mention that after tonight he may never want to speak to me again. And he’d be right not to.”

“But…let’s pretend, yeah? I mean, he’s always going to be a part of your life now, anyway, so what if there could be more?”

“There couldn’t be. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m getting married in two days.”

Keeley tilted her head and shot Rebecca a very Knowing-with-a-capital-‘K’ look, “Rebecca. Come on.”

“What?”

“Why the hell do you want to marry fucking Luca?”

Rebecca’s jaw dropped open. “Where is this coming from? I asked you very specifically if marrying Luca was a bad idea. You told me to listen to my heart!”

“Yeah! Because I thought your heart was going to tell you it was a stupid fucking decision!” Keeley’s volume escalated to a near shout by the time she reached the end of the sentence.

“Shhhh.” Rebecca pressed a finger to Keeley’s lips.

Keeley, voice lowered once more, said, “Babe, you know I think the absolute world of you. If you start a cult, I’ll commit blood sacrifice to whatever alien overlord you worship. If you murder someone, I’ll help you bury the body. If I’d been on that boat and you and Ted wanted a third, I’d say no only so I could sit in the room and watch.” Rebecca rolled her eyes at this, but Keeley’s voice turned grave, “But if you marry Luca…Rebecca, I’m not sure I can stand by your side.”

“Keeley—”

“If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you love Luca, that he makes you feel the way Ted clearly did, then I will shut the fuck up and be nothing but supportive about it for the rest of our lives. So can you?”

Rebecca looked into Keeley’s hazel eyes, which were rapidly flicking back and forth between hers. “I…” she stuttered. Luca was...There was nothing wrong with him. Well, maybe he was a little dotty, but she found that rather endearing. Luca would never be able to hurt her the way Ted had. She wouldn’t survive that a second time. He was safe. He was handsome. He was fine. Wasn’t that enough? “I do love him,” she said, with enough conviction that she prayed it would brook no argument.

Keeley searched her eyes, scoured them so thoroughly Rebecca was sure she’d see the truth. “If you’re sure,” Keeley breathed, definitely still unconvinced. “Because if you’re not…you deserve better. You both do.”

“Thank you, Keeley.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around Keeley’s narrow shoulders, her smile falling as soon as Keeley couldn’t see it. “I need to get ready, and I’ve no idea what to wear,” Rebecca sighed as she shifted off the bed, opening up the closet to inspect the small collection of clothes she’d brought.

“Well, if I was having dinner with the father of my child who I haven’t seen in 12 years, and I wanted to make it hard for him to be mad at me,” Keeley's fingers running along the hanging garments, “I’d wear this,” she offered, hand landing on the hanger holding a burgundy dress. She held it up to Rebecca’s body; it was strappy, form-fitting, and, Rebecca knew, rather busty.

“Hm. Good point.”

Ted anxiously tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves as he, Carrie, and Roy waited in the hotel lobby. Roy’s nose was shoved in Anna Karenina, Carrie had slung her legs over the back of the sofa and was flicking through a tabloid magazine, while Ted paced behind them.

“Can you sit down? You’re making me fucking nervous,” Roy grumbled.

“Sorry…Hunger is making me antsy,” Ted said, still pacing. Roy glared at him over the book. “Carrie,” he whispered, “You can’t lay on the couch like that here. Show some decorum.”

“What’s decorum?” Carrie asked idly as she twisted herself into a more normal sitting position, though her feet were still pulled up onto the sofa.

“Why don’t you show some decorum? They’re gonna think you’re pulling a heist,” Roy hissed.

Not wanting to draw Roy’s ire, he forced himself into a chair, but as soon as his ass touched the cushion, the elevator door slid open and three women stepped out. Ted popped right back up and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Roy do the same.

Ellie, in an adorable yellow sundress, ran ahead of Keeley and Rebecca toward Carrie on the sofa. Ted was still wrapping his mind around the idea that Ellie was his daughter, and he felt a swell of emotion when his girls embraced.

When his gaze landed on Rebecca, he had to remind himself to breathe. The dark red dress accentuated every curve of her body, the square neck exposing her collarbones and the slope of her…

“Evening, gentlemen,” Keeley said, fortunately interrupting his thoughts.

“Keeley,” Roy said, “You look nice.”

“Thank you, Roy. That secret service costume makes you look very smart.”

“Long time, no see, Keeley, Rebecca,” Ted nodded to each of them, though his eyes quickly drifted back to Rebecca. “You all look beautiful. Personally, I thought about wearin’ a bathrobe, but I didn’t want to accidentally match your fiancé. Where is he?”

“Oh, I knew you wouldn’t be able to let that go.” Rebecca’s lips curved into a smile. “He’s not coming. His Stag party is tonight and he wanted to take his time getting ready.”

Ted winced a little. What had he expected? That despite his insistence he wasn’t here to step in the middle of her relationship, he’d show up and Rebecca would immediately dump her fiancé? Hating the subject of Luca, he changed it. “So, which lucky London dining establishment gets to enjoy our patronage this evening?”

“Ah,” Rebecca said, “I’ve gotten us a table at a charming French bistro just down the road. Shall we?”

Both Ted and Rebecca’s heads turned to the two girls who were whispering conspiratorially on the sofa.

“You girls got something you wanna share with the class?”

“No,” they said quickly, and in unison.

“Nothin’ suspicious about that,” Ted murmured to Rebecca, and they shared a smile.

They walked two by two to the restaurant; Carrie and Ellie glued at the hip, as usual (the novelty of it had not yet worn off), Keeley and Roy’s strange chemistry pulling them ever closer to one another, which left him and Rebecca to bring up the rear.

“Did you have a nice afternoon?” Ted asked, unable to withstand the silence.

“Hm. It was certainly eventful,” she replied.

“How so?”

“Well, I told Ellie. About you. And…us.” Ted swallowed. “A child-friendly version, at any rate.”

“You two alright?”

Rebecca smiled. “Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I broached the topic of you and her getting to know one another better. Of course, you owe us nothing.” That stung a little, but he shook it off. “But she’s excited about the possibility, if you are.”

“I am,” he said shortly, a little choked up.

“Here we are!” Keeley said from ahead of them. From the outside, the restaurant seemed oddly quiet to Ted, but maybe that was just how chic London restaurants were.

They stepped inside and it was completely empty, soft music echoing through the room.

At last
My love has come along…

“Are you sure this place is open?” Ted asked Rebecca.

“They accepted my reservation when I called before.”

Ellie and Carrie turned to face Ted and Rebecca, Roy and Keeley flanking them.

“Sorry—” Ellie started.

“One last surprise!” Carrie dug her elbow into Ellie’s side, grinning innocently.

“As you can see,” Ellie said, gesturing behind her, “The table is set for two, so—”

“We won’t be joining you,” Carrie finished her sentence.

“Hang on,” Ted interrupted, pointing to Roy and Keeley, “Did you two know about this?”

“We might’ve helped with the logistical details.” Keeley shrugged innocently.

“And seeing as kids, and also me, don’t want to eat posh French tasting menus,” Roy tossed in, “We’re gonna go get some hamburgers–”

“And then go see Mulan at the cinema–” Ellie added.

“While you two talk!” Keeley finished.

“What a charming little performance from the bloody Von Trapp family,” Rebecca muttered, her eyes landing on each of them in turn. Everyone, except Roy, had the decency to look a little ashamed.

“Please don’t be angry with them,” Keeley whispered between Ted and Rebecca, “If you have to be angry with someone, choose Roy.” She winked. “C’mon girls.” She hooked an arm around each of their elbows and practically skipped with them out the door. Roy gave them each a curt nod and trailed behind the girls like a bouncer.

Ted shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed, “You know what, gettin’ tricked like this is really on us at this point.”

A hostess appeared and led them to the table, though without need given it was the only one set with dining accoutrements and candles. Fortunately, it was still tucked into a corner so Ted didn’t feel completely exposed. If the sweat pooling on his back was any indication, he was more nervous than a prize pig at a bacon factory.

A waiter appeared, filling their wine glasses and leaving two menus, before vanishing. They sat in awkward silence as each sipped their respective drink, a dark mirror of their first meeting over 12 years ago.

“So, how do you think they convinced the restaurant to stay closed to the public?” Ted asked with painstaking lightness.

“I expect I’ll find out when I get my credit card bill next month,” Rebecca chuckled. “I’m quite sure Keeley has the number memorized.”

“You trust her an awful lot, huh?” Ted asked.

“With my life. With Ellie’s life, even. Though perhaps I should reconsider trusting her with my financial information.”

Ted whistled, “That’s…a very special person.” He smiled, realizing how much it warmed his heart to see someone care for Rebecca in the way she deserved.

“I’m dying to know, what’s the story with Roy? Bit of an…unlikely choice for a housekeeper.”

Ted laughed, “Believe it or not, you’re not the first person who’s told me that. You heard Keeley mention that he played soccer…er…football over here, yeah?”

“I don’t follow football, but even I’ve heard the legend of Roy Kent. One of the best players Chelsea had ever seen, up until he vanished.”

“Correct. From what I understand, he injured his knee and couldn’t quite get back up to speed. He accepted a contract to play Stateside and was traveling there when he met a pretty drunk vineyard owner who told him if he wanted to cut and run, he’d have a job waitin’. Well, a few months later, he actually showed up.”

“Why did he quit playing?”

“Hell if I know.” Ted shrugged. “At first, I rotated him around at the vineyard to see what might work best. Turns out, none of it worked best. Or at all. This may shock you, but Roy was a godawful salesman.” Rebecca chuckled. “He also couldn’t do math. Knee injury made physical labor a challenge, even if he pretended it didn’t. Still doesn’t know a thing about wine, and was unwilling to learn. But, he had a very special, secret talent.”

“What’s that?” Rebecca leaned in slightly.

Ted leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was about to share the nuclear codes with her, “That man is a baby whisperer.” Rebecca raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Love her to death, but Carrie was a holy terror that first year. Screamed from the minute she woke up to the minute she knocked herself out from all the screamin’. But the second Roy entered the room,” Ted snapped his fingers, “she was as sweet as a baby lamb. In those first few years, it was…tough, balancing everything, so it felt like the perfect fit. He was hesitant at first, but I could tell, it was love at first sight with those two.”

“Well, it seems like we’ve both been very lucky.”

“Cheers to that,” Ted said, raising his glass to her, "To employees turned best friends. Don't tell Roy I called him that." The two glasses kissed with a clink. “Rebecca, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Rebecca’s tone was light, but her jaw was tense.

“This whole…trap we’ve fallen prey to. I came here thinkin' you knew I was comin' and you’d consented to meet me. I shoulda had the guts to call you up myself instead of leaving it in the apparently very slippery hands of my daughter.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Ted. Shock has made many attempts on my life and yet to succeed.” Ted took a moment to admire her, the way the candlelight cast a warm glow over her face, the lines on her forehead, the perfect blonde curl that fell across her brow. “You know, you’d actually been on my mind over the past couple of weeks.”

Ted had to keep himself from choking on his wine. “Oh?”

“Mhm. Your wine made it to my favored local pub. I also heard The Gambler for the first time in ages,” she wore a distant smile as she said it, “and then, Ellie started asking me more questions about you than she ever has. Now I understand why, but still, it’s funny, isn’t it?”

“Guess the universe was just tryin’ to warn you I was coming.” An unknowable, slightly pained look passed over Rebecca’s face as he said this.

“So, how are you, Ted?” Rebecca said, her tone a bit pinched

Rebecca swung between familiar and formal so quickly it made Ted feel unbalanced, worried he’d fuck up and say the wrong thing. Sometimes he felt every one of the 12 years that had passed since they’d last seen one another, sometimes it felt like no time at all.

“I’m…a lot of things,” he said, wanting to break through that tension, “I’m high, but I’m grounded.” Rebecca’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sane, but I’m overwhelmed.” The confusion melted into amusement. “I’m lost, but I’m hopeful, bay-bay,” he finished with a musical flourish.

“Alright, Alanis,” she laughed. “How’s business? How’s your mother? How’s…Michelle?”

It struck him for the first time then that Rebecca knew nothing about what had transpired since that rainy spring morning when everything had fallen apart. How could she? Guilt chewed at his insides.

“Business is booming. They hardly need me at this point. My mother is…my mother. Loves bein’ a grandma, but constantly guilts me for living so far away. I think I’d lose my mind if we got any closer, to be perfectly honest with you.” He paused to whet his palette with some wine. “Michelle…lives in Kansas. Her parents were havin’ some health troubles, so she wanted to be with them, amongst other things.” Coward, a voice in the back of his head said sharply. But the ‘other things’ felt a little too heavy for dinner conversation.

“Oh, I didn’t realize. That must be hard on Carrie.”

“It is. More than she lets on, I think. I know Michelle loves her, but parenthood hasn’t been an easy road for her. I’m just tryin’ to make sure Carrie doesn’t grow up resentin' her because…well, we both know what that feels like.”

“Like festering shit.”

“Disturbing, but accurate.”

“That’s good of you, Ted. I’m sure she’ll understand some day. What’s she like? Carrie?”

Ted smiled, so broadly and warmly that Rebecca mirrored it. “Amazing. She’s a big science nerd. At the moment, she either wants to be an astronaut or a veterinarian. She’s hilarious and loud, loves nothing more than being the center of attention. She remembers everything. Watch a movie once and she can quote the whole thing back to you verbatim. She’s like the Tasmanian devil: a lot of energy and very destructive– can’t hold anything without dropping it. And best of all, she’s kind. Thoughtful. Attentive. I’m lucky to be her dad.”

Rebecca’s eyes were sparkling in the candlelight. “She’s lucky to have you,” Rebecca said quietly. “And I’m very glad she and Ellie found each other.”

“Can you…” Ted spoke cautiously, “Can you tell me about Ellie?”

The way Rebecca’s face lit up turned him to melty, warm goo. “Well, in many ways, it sounds like she’s Carrie’s polar opposite. Ellie loves to read more than anything. I found her trudging her way through War and Peace at age 7,” Rebecca laughed. “She also remembers everything, especially music. She can sing like a little angel. She’s neat as a pin, and would prefer that nobody paid her any mind, but when you do get her talking it's hard to get her to stop. And, like Carrie, she’s so thoughtful. I think she forgets that I’m the one who takes care of her, not the other way around.”

Rebecca shifted, like there was something she wanted to say but hadn’t quite decided if she should. “What is it?” Ted asked encouragingly.

“Sorry. I’m reminding myself that you’re her father, so I should share these things with you.” Ted’s heartbeat was in his throat, realizing it was the first time Rebecca had directly referred to him as Ellie’s father. “I worry about her. She has a hard time connecting with other girls her age, which is why I thought summer camp would be good for her. I’m afraid…I’m afraid I turned her into a mini me.”

“I’m having trouble seein’ how that’s a bad thing,” Ted said, biting his tongue so he didn’t also add because this world barely deserves one Rebecca, let alone two.

“You’re sweet,” Rebecca seemed to let the words slip out before she could stop them as she attempted to cover it up with a long sip of wine. Ted bit back a grin. “I want her to be confident and independent so she can be proud of who she is, not just conform to what other people think she should be. But I fear it’s made her lonely. If you asked her who her best friend is, she’d say Keeley. Or me, maybe. I just want her to get to be a kid. Carrie is the first true friend I think she’s ever had.” Rebecca slumped a little and pinched the bridge of her nose. “How the fuck are we going to separate them?”

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” It took everything in Ted’s power not to take her hand between his own, because doing so would break some unspoken agreement to not touch one another.

“Maybe…maybe Ellie could go to you for a few weeks during summer holiday. And London is magical at Christmas time. Both of you would be welcome at my house.”

Over dinner, they created a tentative plan for how their bi-continental arrangement might work. It wasn’t ideal, or even good, but it was something.

As they finished up their dessert, Rebecca let the waiter know they were ready for the check, but he informed them it’d already been taken care of.

As he walked away, Ted murmured, “Well, thank you to our mysterious benefactor for dinner.”

They met each other’s gaze. Rebecca polished off what remained of her wine and cleared her throat, “So. I promised you a post-dinner talk.”

“Right…Here? Or,” he looked at his wrist, checking a watch that wasn’t there, “We’ve probably got a couple hours before the others return. Wanna go back to my room?” Heat rose to both of their faces at that phrasing. “I mean…er….Just feels like a conversation we should have in private.”

“Fine,” Rebecca said quickly, adjusting the strap of her dress, drawing Ted’s eye to the wrong part of her body. Swearing Rebecca clocked his unsubtle glance, he immediately pretended to be looking anywhere else.

Get it together, Ted.

Ted held open the door to his hotel suite, allowing Rebecca to pass through the threshold. A little sweat had broken out on her brow from the humid August air, and likely also the nervousness she felt.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Ted said.

Rebecca was anything but comfortable, currently agonizing over whether taking off her shoes was an overly familiar gesture.

Ted seemed to notice her hesitating in the doorway. “You can take off your shoes if you’d like,” he said as he removed his own.

Rebecca’s shoulders relaxed by a degree, and she followed suit, arranging them neatly next to the door.

“Can I get you anything? I’ve got some bourbon. Water. I think there’s tea in here, too.”

“Water would be perfect, thank you.” Rebecca was already feeling a little sick to her stomach. She made her way to the sofa, sitting on the edge of it like she might have to jump up and run out of the room at any second.

Ted returned with a glass of water for her and a tumbler of bourbon for himself. He dropped into a chair opposite her. He’d removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt slightly. That didn’t help with the heat.

“So,” she said.

“So,” he replied.

“I’m sorry. This is very strange. And I’m very hot. It’s times like these where I really rue Britain’s lack of aircon, you know. I mean gorgeous, historical building this, but seriously, are aesthetics more important than being comfortable? And yes, I realize the irony considering I work in fashion. Is it hot in here or is it just me?” Rebecca fanned her face with her hands, lifted her arms up and down a few times to air out her armpits.

Ted, amused, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. “I’m a bit toasty, yeah,” he said. “Rebecca, take your time. There’s no rush here.”

God. How could he be so patient with her when she’d withheld something so monumental from him for so long?

No more running away.

Rebecca took a deep breath and plunged. “It started before you left.” Ted, realizing she was diving directly into the story, leaned forward, eyes bright and attentive. “You might remember me getting sick. I was also so exhausted. And cucumbers suddenly tasted like putrid shit. The signs were all there, I just didn’t know what they were pointing to.”

Ted closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a breath of understanding.

“The day you…left, I was out in the rain.” A chill ran through her body at the memory. “I came down with what I assumed was just the flu.” And a hearty dose of depression, she thought. “I was in a bit of a fog, so it took me longer than it should’ve to put the pieces together. It was a few weeks after you were gone when I finally took a test…Then I took three more tests. Then I went to the doctor.”

Rebecca waited for the inevitable questions, accusations, exclamations, but Ted was still watching her, apparently not wanting to interrupt.

“I was so fucking scared, Ted. I thought about trying to contact you then, and maybe I should have, but—and I know it might sound crazy—I thought it would be selfish to put that on you, after the way I’d treated you and knowing you were already dealing with so much. What could you have done anyway? Abandon the woman I’d told you to return to?”

Ted’s eyes were bleary, but still he said nothing.

“So, I called the only person I could think of to call: my mother. I never told you this, but my mother and I had barely spoken since my father died. She thought it was cruel that I’d been so distant in the final years of his life, not that I’d known they would be the final years of his life at the time.” Rebecca couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little. “She knew I hated him, but she didn’t know why. Still doesn’t, actually. But even so, she rushed to my side when I called. It was the best thing that could’ve happened for our relationship, really.”

Rebecca took a sip of water. “Pregnancy was hardly a walk in the park. Fucks you up in ways absolutely nobody prepares you for. Once, I slightly burnt my toast, and I cried so hard I had to take the day off work.” Ted smiled sadly at this. “And then, she arrived. New Year’s Eve, 1986, at 11:53 PM. I was holding her for the first time when the fireworks started going off. In the ward, they were singing Auld Lang Syne. It all felt like it was just for her.”

Ted brushed tears from his eyes. “I should’ve been there, Rebecca…”

“Yes, you should’ve been. But you weren’t, and that’s nobody’s fault but mine.”

“Why didn’t you call? You have to know I would’ve come in a heartbeat.”

Rebecca had known the question was coming, but she still felt bowled over by it.

“I did call.” Rebecca’s voice grew hollow, her mouth forming a thin line.

“What? When?” Ted leaned forward.

“It was after Ellie was born. I was going to tell you about her.”

“Rebecca, I never–”

“I spoke to Trent Crimm,” Rebecca plowed over him, “I asked him to hunt down your home number–”

“Why did you–”

“Ted, please let me finish. He got it for me, and…it took me a little longer to gather up the courage to actually follow through. I dialed the number and it went to voicemail.”

“I never got a message…”

“Because I never left one. The voicemail message, it…” Rebecca swallowed painfully, “I remember you made that stupid joke where you pretended that it was actually you answering the phone. And then you said, ‘You've reached the home of Ted and Michelle and Caroline Lasso.’”

“Oh,” Ted said, his voice small.

“You told me about some grand revelation you’d had about how you weren’t in love with Michelle. But just like that, you were married to her.” Rebecca felt the heat rising in her again, just like it had back then.

“I see,” Ted said solemnly.

“I hung up. And every time I thought about calling back, trying again, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Ted broke eye contact, boring a hole in the carpet with his eyes as he sat in silence.

“Why did it matter to you that I was married to Michelle? You told me that whatever it was between us meant nothing to you.”

“I didn’t say it meant nothing…” Rebecca recalled all too clearly what she had said. Perhaps those exact words hadn’t come out of her mouth, but it’d been what she wanted him to believe, hadn't it?

As though he’d read her mind, Ted continued venomously, “It’ll pass is what you told me. And then you were mad because it did pass for me?”

Rebecca’s heart hammered painfully in her chest. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. “No…it-it’s not what it sounds like…” her voice tapered off, because it was, at least in part, exactly what it sounded like.

Because it certainly hadn’t passed for her.

“Really? Because it sounds like you were upset that I’d moved on after you bro—,” he cut himself off, “Should I have wasted away hopin’ you’d change your mind? Would that have made you happy?”

Rebecca’s spine was painfully rigid, unblinking as his anger roared back up. It made her feel like she was right back in the Richmond flat. But unlike then, this time she deserved it. She deserved worse. “Of course not.”

“Then help me understand,” Ted pleaded, frustration squeezing his words. He moved from the chair to the sofa, sitting next to her. With nothing between them, it was the closest he’d been to her in 12 years. “I don’t wanna be angry about this, but—”

“But you should be,” Rebecca’s voice rose. “You have every right to be! I stole twelve years of your daughter’s life from you. It’s inhumane what I did, but I couldn’t–I couldn’t…” Her chest heaved as a sob broke through, “Fuck, and I’m still making it about me and my fucking feelings,” she choked as she wiped tears out of her eyes, finding it hard to breathe.

“Rebecca—”

Ted did the worst thing he could do. He took her hand, his touch breaking against her like a wave, and gently guided her palm to his sternum, pressing his hand over hers as he took deep, steady inhales. “Just breathe with me, okay?” He didn’t break eye contact with her until she did the same.

Rebecca still felt unsteady, albeit a bit calmer. “You are being far too nice to me,” her words were still fighting their way out, “You should be…screaming…or destroying this very expensive hotel suite, not leading me through b-breathing exercises,” she laughed pitifully.

Ted wore a strained smile. “I can be angry with you and still—” he paused to breathe again, “Still care about you.”

Mirroring each other, their gaze drifted from where their hands touched to one another, both seemingly intensely aware how close they were. For the first time, she truly noticed the lines of age across his face, the grey hairs amidst the brown, that same tobacco-laced musk. If she leaned forward just so, her lips would graze his…

It was too intimate. Rebecca hadn’t felt this close to anyone in twelve years.

Did Ted feel it, too?

Rebecca nearly started leaning forward, but Ted cleared his throat and gently released his grip.

“Feel better?” Ted asked.

She wasn’t sure. Kissing him would’ve made this mess much worse, she knew, but it also might’ve been…nice.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Thank you.” Rebecca reluctantly withdrew her hand, scooting back on the sofa a bit.

“Do you want to try talkin’ me through it?”

“What does it matter? It doesn’t change the past.”

“It matters to me,” Ted said quietly. It was a simple plea, his eyes searching hers for something that might clue him in to all the things imprisoned within her memory, much of it mysterious even unto herself.

“Okay,” she said, her mind locating a key, turning a lock, walking into the dark. “After I knew you and Michelle were married, it…Oh, this is so stupid.” Rebecca made her hands into fists and dug them into her forehead with a little groan of frustration.

Ted circled her wrists, delicately teasing her hands away from her face. She went limp in his grasp.

He took her hands in his. She let him.

“It made me feel like the other woman. In forcing my way back into your life, I would’ve ruined your family, and I would’ve put you in the impossible position of choosing between two children, which would be unfair to both of them. So…” Rebecca bit her lip to keep it from wobbling, “So I thought it was easier for Ellie to grow up with no father rather than half of one.”

Those words sank into both of them. She watched as Ted’s posture slackened, his soft, warm hands pulling away from hers, leaving them strangely cold.

“Easier for who?”

“Ted—”

“For Ellie? Because it seems to me like you made things a hell of a lot harder for Ellie.”

“I know I did. I’ve made a fucking mess of everything. This isn’t how I planned for her to learn any of this—”

“Would you have ever told her about me if your hand hadn’t been forced? Or was it easier for you to pretend I didn’t exist?”

Rebecca understood how Ted had felt all those years ago when she called him a coward because his words stung. All of her self-doubt, her fears, her pain flung right back in her face, and she couldn’t even argue because every last word was true. Except for one thing.

“I never pretended you didn’t exist.”

“Sure doesn’t look that way to me.”

Rebecca couldn’t help but agree. What could she tell him when nearly everything showed how badly she’d tried to sweep the evidence of him under the rug?

“Penelope.”

Ted raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

Rebecca fought against her tears, “When I went into labor, I was panicked because I still didn’t know what to name her. But the moment she opened her eyes in the hospital, I remember thinking they were wine-dark. And they were yours. So I named her Penelope, from The Odyssey.”

And wasn’t naming her Penelope a flare in a dark sky, a hope that he might catch sight of it and come running?

She swiped the back of her hand across her cheek, a useless gesture as those tears were just replaced by more. “So, no, it wasn’t easier for me, because I think about you every single time I look at her. And it’s not just her face, or her eyes. It’s her. You’re a part of her.”

And you’re a part of me.

Ted was gripping the arm of the sofa so tightly his knuckles were white.

Rebecca continued, “Ted, please tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sniffed, the corner of his mouth twisting. “I don’t know. I think…I need some time. To sit with this.”

“Okay,” Rebecca agreed, crumpling internally. What had she expected? Immediate forgiveness? “Of course.”

She took this as her cue to leave, standing up slowly and quietly.

“We’re on a flight out tomorrow afternoon,” he said softly. “Can we talk to Ellie together in the morning?”

“Yes.” Rebecca felt sick to her stomach at the thought of Ted leaving so quickly. “Goodnight, Ted. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

He said nothing, only sat on the sofa and stared into the distance.

Rebecca turned away, that crushing feeling returning to her chest as she did so, and slid her shoes on.

“Rebecca–”

“Yes?” She pivoted to face him, one hand on the doorknob.

He paused before he said, “Thank you for dinner.”

She gave him a nod of acknowledgement, unable to form words, and slipped out the door.

She considered going down to the hotel bar, hoping a few martinis might numb the pain, but the thought of being around other people sounded like hell. Instead, she went back to her room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she took off her shoes and hurled them across the room. The heel of one clipped the wall, chipping the paint, but she didn’t care.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by the tight dress, she wrestled the zipper down and had pushed one strap off her shoulder when she was halted by a knock at the door. She haphazardly attempted to pull the strap back up as she ambled over to the peephole, her stomach twisting as she saw who stood on the other side.

She swung open the door and said, “Ted?”

Ted’s hair was a bit ruffled, like he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.

“Erm…come in?” she said, pushing the door open wider, attempting, rather awkwardly, to make sure she kept her exposed back turned away from him as he stepped inside.

“I didn’t do a good job sittin’ with it,” he said, pacing back and forth, “So I tried to walk with it instead, but I couldn’t do that either. So, here I am, pacin’ with it. With you.”

“Okay…” Rebecca said timidly, glad he wasn’t shutting her out, but rather unsure where this was headed.

“I’ve made the mistake of not sayin’ what was on my mind to you before, so I’m tryin’ to be different now. I have a bad habit of runnin’ from my problems like a bat out of hell. And I want to tell you what I’m feelin’, but my feelings are very confused.”

Rebecca kept her back to the wall, but stepped toward him. “Just let it out, whatever it is.”

“I feel like that two-faced God. What’s it called? Janis?”

“Janus,” Rebecca corrected.

Ted’s words started flying out a mile a minute. “One Ted is spittin’ mad. Madder than my great aunt Rita when she tossed me out of her house after I beat her at Hand and Foot. Fair and square, I might add.” Rebecca had no idea what that meant. “The other Ted wants to forgive you. Hell, he doesn’t even think you really did anything that needs to be forgiven. And while those two heavyweight champion Teds are havin’ a cagematch that would make Hulk Hogan envious, a secret third Ted is hiding in the corner, tossin’ banana peels at their feet to distract them from the fact that all he can do is think about how it looks like your dress is fallin’ off.”

Rebecca was so focused on trying to follow the serpentine path of Ted’s metaphor, it took a moment for her to process his final words.

Ted had stopped his furious pacing right in front of her, only an arm’s reach away.

When they’d left the restaurant earlier, she could’ve sworn she’d caught his eyes wandering across her chest. She couldn’t imagine what it looked like now with one strap fallen to the side, the unzipped dress sliding down her torso.

There was a hungry gleam in Ted’s eye.

One step forward, and he’d be close enough to pull the dress off of her.

One step forward, and his hands could be on her body. The hands that knew exactly where to touch to make her beg for more in a way nobody else ever had.

One step forward, and his lips could be on hers, the scratch of his mustache against her skin so familiar, so tender, it might make her cry.

Heat rose in her so quickly, so intensely, it ached; tremors of pleasure radiated outward like a heartbeat. She felt so sensitive, so electric, she was sure if he touched her just once, it would be enough to make her come.

Both of them took a hesitant half step forward, like they were simultaneously being pushed forward and held back. They were so close now Rebecca could feel Ted’s breath against her neck, the heat emanating from his body. It drove her mad.

They locked eyes for a long moment, a gravitational force pulling them in. Ted leaned forward, and Rebecca started to as well, but then she put her hand against his chest, the light reflecting a warning in the diamond of her engagement ring. “Ted…We can’t,” she breathed, strained and frustrated.

At first, Ted didn’t move, but then he slackened beneath her hand. The spell broken, he stepped back. “Fuckin’ hell, Rebecca, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wishing her body would respond as quickly as her mind because all it wanted to do was throw itself into his arms, to taste his skin, to have him inside of her, to hear him moaning her name…“Fuck,” she groaned.

“I should go,” he said, “Bein’ here is a bad idea, I think.”

But he didn’t move.

“Is it obvious?” he asked.

“What?” Rebecca panted. In response, Ted jerked his chin downward. Rebecca followed the motion and her eyes landed on an extremely indiscreet bulge. “Ah. Quite.” She swallowed. God. Her body was fucking thrumming with need; she was so tightly wound she could barely stand upright.

“I’m just gonna…borrow your loo, if that’s alright.”

Rebecca nodded. As Ted fled, Rebecca let out a breath. It took every ounce of willpower to keep her hands off herself as she waited. Christ, Rebecca, what is wrong with you?

To distract herself, she slipped into her bedroom, keeping an eye on the bathroom door, and yanked the dress off, replacing it quickly (though secretly hoping Ted would open the door and catch her) with her most unflattering outfit: joggers and a tight-fitting white t-shirt. Fuck, she thought as she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she still looked fucking fit.

I like it when you wear sweatpants.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rebecca muttered sotto voce as she dashed back to the sitting room.

Just as she was about to sit, the bathroom door swung open and Ted emerged, looking a little damp, but less…Well.

“Did you...erm...fix the problem?” Shut the fuck up, Rebecca!

He froze, giving him time to clock the outfit change, his eyes lingering on the joggers. “I…Rebecca, I really gotta go. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Right. Yes. Looking forward.” She did an incredibly cool, not remotely awkward, salute with her right hand. “Toodle-pip.”

Toodle-pip? She had never said toodle-pip in her entire fucking life.

After Ted left, she waited for several minutes, making sure he wasn’t going to make another surprise visit, resisting the temptation to bolt after him, she went into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Desperately needing release, her hand slid beneath the waistband of her joggers. It was hardly romantic, skipping past all the self-attentive things she might normally do and instead sprinting to the finish line (which didn’t take long given how tightly wired she was). And even as an orgasm came and went, it only really released enough pressure to stave off an explosion.

Rebecca went to the bathroom and splashed some water onto her face. Her thoughts were muddled, but one thing was now abundantly clear.

Checking the time, she realized it was only just after 9:00 PM. She didn’t have much time before the girls and Roy were likely to return.

Rebecca slid into the complimentary hotel slippers, grabbed her key from the table, and left the room quietly.

A few moments later, she was knocking on a hotel room door.

The door swung open and music from a boombox poured out. “Hello, gorgeous!” Luca said, his words a little slurred.

Voices from the other side of the door started a chorus of heckles, “Oooooo, who’s thaaaaat?”

“Shut up, lads!” he called over his shoulder before turning back to Rebecca, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom on the night of his stag party?”

“Luca, could I speak with you out here?”

“Sure,” he said, stepping out of the doorway and moving in to give her what would surely be one wet, alcohol-soaked kiss.

Rebecca turned her head, so the kiss landed sloppily on her cheek. “Alright, Rebecca?” he said, blinking some of the drunkenness away.

“Yes,” she replied, “Luca, listen. I’m sorry to do this right now. I know it’s awful timing. But…”

“What’s wrong?” The poor thing. He did look terribly concerned.

Rebecca took a deep breath, imagining Ted’s hand pressed to her chest as she did so. “I can’t marry you, Luca. I’m so sorry.”

Luca released an enormous sigh of…relief? “Jesus, Rebecca. I thought you were gonna tell me you were pregnant,” he laughed.

“Luca, we’ve never once had unprotected sex.” That was not a mistake she’d ever made again after Ted. “Anyway, that’s not the point. I’ve just told you I’m calling off our engagement. Are you okay?”

Luca seemed to finally let her words sink in. He deflated just a bit. “Wow. Yeah…can’t say I saw that coming. You’re sure?”

Rebecca slid the ring from her finger and pressed it into his palm, closing his fingers around it. “I’m sure. You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and I can’t do that. Don’t settle for anything less, alright?” She gave him a sober kiss on the cheek. Luca just stared down at the ring, a perplexed, vacant expression on his smooth face.

“Hey, Rebecca?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I need to tell the lads that the Stag’s off?”

The corner of her mouth curved up in a smirk. “I wouldn’t. Think of all the free drinks you’d miss out on, hm?”

He flashed a toothy grin and nodded.

“Goodbye, Luca.”

“Bye,” he said before he disappeared back into the room.

Rebecca stood in front of the elevator, contemplating whether she should go back to her room. Or whether she should go back to Ted’s. She pressed the button and waited.

The elevator dinged and the doors rolled open. To Rebecca’s surprise, she found herself looking at the faces of Keeley, Roy, Carrie, and Ellie.

“Mum!” Ellie gasped.

Rebecca smiled and stepped into the elevator. “Hi, darling. Did you all have a good night?” She looked around at each of them, noting how close Keeley stood to Roy.

“Roy cried,” Carrie giggled.

“No I didn’t. The theatre was just dusty.”

“How was your night, Rebecca?” Keeley asked pointedly.

“Illuminating,” Rebecca answered. Keeley, unsatisfied, glared at her. Later, Rebecca mouthed, Roy silently watching the exchange.

“Mum. Can Carrie spend the night in our room?” Rebecca’s heart lightened. Seeing Ellie this happy made her happier than she’d ever be able to express in words.

“If Te—” She paused. “If your father is alright with it, then I don’t see why not.”

“We’ll go ask,” Roy said, pressing the button for Ted’s floor. “I’ll bring them both up if he says yes.”

The elevator came to a stop and Roy and the girls stepped out, leaving Keeley and Rebecca alone.

“Well?” Keeley asked.

“Well, what?”

A moment later, they stepped out onto their floor.

“Well, we found you on Luca’s floor, and you’re not wearing your flipping engagement ring, for one.”

“Ah,” Keeley, ever the bloodhound. “You know, you’re really wasting your talent in fashion. I’m quite sure every unsolved murder in Britain would be a closed case within a week under your watch.”

“Rebecca!” She stomped her foot as Rebecca unlocked the door to the room.

Rebecca melted into the couch, practically laying down, exhausted. “I ended things with Luca. You were right, of course, I was just marrying him for my own selfish reasons. It wasn’t fair to him.”

“Are you okay?” Keeley picked up Rebecca’s legs so she could wiggle her way underneath them.

“Yes,” she sighed.

“And what about Ted?”

“Ted…is complicated. He needs time to…let it sink in, I think. But–”

“But what?” Keeley was eager, her hands tight around Rebecca’s shins.

“There was…a moment, I suppose you’d call it.”

“A sexy moment?” Keeley quirked an eyebrow. “Did you…Is that why you’re in…” Keeley pulled at the fabric of Rebecca’s joggers.

“No, no. Almost. But he’s not in a rational state. The emotions are…too close, and I’d feel like I was taking advantage of him, and we’d both regret it.”

“God. I hate that you can’t always be both responsible and sexy. I was getting a little carried away thinking about the two of you on this sofa, but that was probably a smart decision. Probably.”

Rebecca really didn't want to think about her and Ted on the sofa.

“So, are you going to join us for this little sleepover?”

“Actually, I’m going to have a little sleepover of my own.” Keeley was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh?”

“I really like him, Rebecca. I know we just met, and he’s leaving tomorrow, but I’ll regret it if I don’t just…see.”

Rebecca pouted. She knew that feeling. “Good for you, Keeley.”

The door unlocked, and Ellie poured into the room, Carrie swift on her heels. “He said yes,” Ellie said.

“Did he actually, Roy?” Rebecca said, swinging her legs off the sofa to free Keeley as Roy stepped in the room.

“He did. He just said no scary movies because after Carrie saw The Birds, she cried every time she saw a bird for a month straight.”

“I was eight!” Carrie argued.

“Noted,” Rebecca grinned.

“Keeley, you ready to go?”

“Keeley? You’re not staying?” Carrie asked.

“Sorry, babe. I got other plans. I’ll see you both in the morning, yeah? Don’t give your mum too much trouble.” She winked. Rebecca noticed Keeley hadn’t specified whose mum Rebecca was. “I love you girls.” She hugged both of them, and gave Rebecca a little wave.

“Have fun,” Rebecca called after them as the door clicked shut. “Why don’t you girls get set up in Keeley’s room? I’m going to take a shower.”

As Rebecca showered, she could hear howls of laughter from the other room. She wished she could capture that sound in a bottle and drink it up.

Her thoughts circled to Ted. Was he alone in his room with only the bourbon for company? Had he gone to the hotel bar, or was he wandering the streets of London?

After she turned off the piping hot water, her skin scalded red and wrinkled from the humidity, she wrapped a towel around herself and sat down on the edge of her bed. Using the phone on the nightstand, she called down to the reception desk and asked to be connected to Ted’s room.

It rang twice before he answered, “Hello?”

“It’s me,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You’re more than welcome to come up here. If you want to.”

He was silent, as though he was considering it. She imagined him sitting on the edge of his own bed, a mirrored reflection of her. “Thanks for checkin’ on me, Rebecca. But I think I need to be alone right now.”

“Okay. If you change your mind, just come up.”

“I will.”

“Otherwise, I'll see you for breakfast? Nine?”

“See you then,” he murmured. “Goodnight, Rebecca.”

“Goodnight, Ted.”

Rebecca sighed as she hung up, the worry she felt for him still chewing at her, but pushing him wouldn’t help either. She changed into a pair of silk pajamas and made her way to the other bedroom, which was slightly ajar.

“Need anything, you two?” They sat cross-legged on the bed, twin images of each other.

“My Best Friend’s Wedding just started and Carrie’s never seen it. Do you want to watch it with us?”

Rebecca smiled. This kind of invitation would only become more of a rarity in the years to come, so she’d be a fool to waste it. “I’d love to. I’ll get us some water and be right back.”

Returning to the sitting room, she started to place a series of glasses on the table, nearly dropping one when there was a sudden knock at the door.

Her heartbeat sped up.

She walked to the door, and for the second time that evening saw Ted on the other side.

She opened it. He’d changed into a black t-shirt and blue flannel pajama pants.

“You came?” she said, both a question and a statement.

“I’d hate to miss all the fun,” he said, a little distantly.

“Perfect timing. We’re just about to watch My Best Friend’s Wedding, Ellie’s obsession du jour. Will you help me with this water?” She added another glass to the line-up. Together, they filled them up and carried them into the bedroom.

“Dad?” Carrie said, surprised.

“Hey, kiddos,” he replied brightly. “Mind if I crash the sleepover?” Both of them shook their heads. “Alright. Very important question: Team Julia or team Cameron?”

Ellie said “Julia” at the same time Carrie said “Cameron.” They both laughed.

The four of them nestled into the bed together, Rebecca and Ted sandwiching the girls between them.

Carrie and Rebecca shared many looks as Ted and Ellie provided practically unceasing commentary. As the movie progressed, they all got quieter until Rebecca noticed both Carrie and Ellie were sound asleep, curled into one another. She caught Ted’s eye, and they smiled at each other.

It was one of those few, precious, fleeting moments in life where Rebecca felt true, abiding peace.

She wished it would last forever.

Chapter Text

Ted opened his eyes to find the room drenched in blue dawn light. The room was almost fragile in its stillness, and he dared not move one stiff muscle.

Through one, sleep-bleary eye, he surveyed the scene before him. Next to him was Ellie, curled up in a ball on her side, her knees pressing against Ted’s stomach. Beside her, Carrie was sprawled out on her back like the whole bed belonged to her alone.

And on her other side was Rebecca, as serene as he’d ever seen her, the ghost of a smile still on her lips even as she slept. The sight of her so at peace made his heart keen.

If someone asked Ted what his dream life looked like, he was pretty sure it looked just like this. For once, Ted was able to forget about the future, the past, all the things that weighed him down. None of it felt important. Everything that mattered, his whole world, was right here.

He laid there for a long time without moving, just watching, thinking he would never be able to look long enough.

The blue light eventually warmed and brightened as the sunlight crept in through the gauzy bedroom curtain. Carrie, still not ready to wake up, turned away from it and in doing so, roused Rebecca. Ted watched as her eyes fluttered open, sparkling jade in the light, and met his.

He worried that her smile would falter when she saw him, but instead, it brightened.

She was luminous, he thought, not for the first time.

In silent agreement, neither of them moved until the girls started to shift awake, yawning and stretching like cats.

Ted, mourning the moment’s end, pushed himself out of bed. Rebecca followed suit. Quietly, they retreated to the sitting room. Rebecca shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Didn’t take long for my accidental sleepover habit to return,” Ted said, fondly hearkening back to that first morning on the ship and Rebecca, hair askew and makeup smeared, so beautiful in the morning light, “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she whispered, “There’s a lot of time to make up for.”

The comment reminded him harshly of the reality of the situation. There were so many emotions swirling around his head, it was hard to understand how he really felt. He wanted to forget about those 12 years. What good would bitterness and resentment do but eat up his joy in all the years that were to come? But he couldn’t let them go just yet.

“I wish you weren’t leaving so soon,” Rebecca continued, “There’s practically an entire museum collection of photos and home videos of Ellie. If you have some time before you go, perhaps you and Carrie could come over to mine?”

The thought of leaving so quickly was incomprehensible to him. He’d been foolish to give himself so little time, but with the vineyard harvest and Carrie’s school year quickly approaching, he couldn’t stay away any longer. And frankly, he’d been grateful to be leaving town before Rebecca’s wedding once he’d learned about it.

Wait a minute…

“I’d love to, but don’t you have a wedding tomorrow you oughta be preparin’ for?”

A flush rose high on Rebecca’s cheeks, her right hand flying to her left. “Oh…Right. Well, as it so happens, I’m not.”

“Not preparin’?”

“Not getting married.” A flood of emotion nearly knocked Ted sideways. Rebecca looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “And before you say anything, it’s not your fault. I hope I would’ve seen the light before it was too late, even if you hadn’t come when you did.”

“I’m sorry, Rebecca.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask…what was this ‘light’ you saw?” Ted asked cautiously, not wanting to push her too far.

Rebecca leaned her ear towards the bedroom door. He could hear Carrie and Ellie chattering, coming in and out of the bathroom, seemingly paying them no mind at all. Rebecca gestured Ted over to the opposite side of the room, through the doorway and into her bedroom. It felt oddly intimate, even though Rebecca had technically never even slept in it.

She pushed the door halfway closed and sat on the edge of the bed. Ted joined her, sitting a healthy distance away. In a low, secretive tone, she said, “A few months ago, I had a bit of a health scare.”

Ted’s stomach dropped. “Rebecca—”

“Don’t worry, everything is completely fine. Seriously,” she added in response to his very concerned look. “But it got me thinking about things. You know, I’m not as young as I used to be, life is fleeting, etcetera, etcetera. If something happened to me, I realized I wasn’t actually worried about what would become of Ellie. She’d have Keeley, my mum, and now you all to look after her. This sounds horribly selfish, but what I didn’t know was what would become of me.” Rebecca stared down at her lap, toying with one of the buttons on her pajama shirt. “I didn’t tell anyone. Couldn’t imagine burdening Keeley, who has already given so much to me. My mum, bless her, is not the most comforting presence. And Ellie, obviously, is a child, and I didn’t want to frighten her. I had nobody to call. I felt so…alone.” Her jaw clenched around the word, like her mouth was resisting her speaking it aloud.

He thought back to all the stories Rebecca had shared with him about herself. Though she’d never said it outright then, Ted had always sensed a deep pain at the core of her, a pervasive loneliness that had dogged her all her life.

“So, when Luca proposed, I think I was just so desperate to have someone that I didn’t really care who it was. And that wasn’t fair to him.”

Ted nodded in understanding, knowing the feeling well. Except in his case he’d actually gone through with the wedding and stayed married for years until he shut down so much, he drove his wife into the arms of another man.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that alone.” Ted tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed briefly, and then relaxed beneath its weight. “I sure hope you never have to experience that again, but if you ever feel like you don’t have someone to call, you can call me.”

Then, quite unexpectedly, Rebecca tilted sideways until her head rested on his shoulder. Ted stretched his arm across her shoulders and gently ran his palm up and down her bicep. The gesture was so comfortable, so familiar. Without thinking, he pressed a light kiss onto the top of her head. She stilled beneath him as his lips brushed her scalp.

Slowly, she lifted her head and turned to look at him, his arm still wrapped around her. Their faces were close, her green eyes glittering in the morning light like the most precious gemstones. Ted longed to run a finger across the bow curve of her lip, to cup her jaw with his palm, to kiss every line of her face.

Rebecca’s eyes fell to his mouth, her lips parted slightly in what he thought might have been an invitation.

Ted knew he shouldn’t.

Both of them were vulnerable, their emotional wounds completely exposed, practically bleeding out.

They were both lonely; he recognized that ache in her because he felt it himself. The only time he hadn’t was those two months, 12 years ago. He’d been chasing it ever since, the sort of connection someone is lucky to find once in a lifetime, but rarely twice.

He shouldn’t, but God, he wanted to.

It would take a braver man than him to resist such temptation. Rebecca—completely unadorned, her unstyled snowy hair loosely framing her face, as beautiful in her pajamas as she was in that damn red dress—seemed to silently ask him, do you feel it, too?

It wasn’t the crackling electricity that had roared up between them last night, rather something soft, simmering, eternal. He’d never forgotten the taste of that kiss they shared on the dance floor, never forgotten how tender she’d been afterwards. This felt the same.

His hand drifted over her shoulder, up the column of her throat until his fingers twined into her hair. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, didn’t put up a hand to stop him. Her eyes flicked back to his, her gaze beckoning him.

Ted leaned forward, his eyes fluttering closed just as he felt her breath on his mouth—

“Mum?” came a voice from the other room.

“Dad?” came another, a half beat later.

Rebecca and Ted rent themselves apart like criminals caught red-handed, jumping up from the bed and moving as far away from one another as the room would allow.

“In here!” they both called out at the same time.

Carrie pushed open the door, seemingly not sensing the suffocating weirdness Ted felt. “Can we go get breakfast?” Carrie asked brightly.

“Pleeeeeease,” Ellie moaned.

“‘Course we can,” Rebecca answered. “I need to get dressed. Ted,” she glanced over at him, though he noticed she was unable to quite meet his eye, “Want to join us downstairs in 20 minutes?”

“Definitely not the ‘eat continental breakfast in your pajamas’ kinda hotel, is it?” He ran his hand through his unkempt hair. “Sure. 20 minutes.”

Rebecca was actually quite amazed at how normal she was able to appear. She let the girls help her pick out a cream-colored linen dress to wear. They watched with fascination and asked many questions as she applied a light layer of makeup and twisted her hair into a loose bun. She even let each of them dab a bit of her perfume onto their wrists, both giggling like they’d done something against the rules.

As they emerged into the hotel lobby, Rebecca with one arm around each girl’s shoulders, she scanned the room for Ted. She didn’t see him, but she did see a familiar man wearing sunglasses indoors, dragging a suitcase toward the exit.

“Good morning, Luca,” she kept her voice quiet, but chipper.

Luca flinched, palm flying to his skull. “Not sure I’d call it ‘good’,” he groaned.

“Did you have fun last night?”

Luca finally seemed to become fully aware of them, sliding his sunglasses down his nose so he could peer at them over the lenses.

“Hang on…” His eyes were flying rapidly between Ellie and Carrie. “There’s two of them?”

Rebecca smirked. “You caught me.” She put a hand on Carrie’s head and said, “Real daughter.” She put her other hand on Ellie’s. “Paid actor.”

Luca barked a laugh and said, “You’re a mysterious woman, Rebecca Welton. Cheers.” He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and continued on his way.

Ellie looked up at her, brows furrowed in confusion, “Where’s he going?”

“Ah. Right. Luca and I are no longer engaged.”

Ellie was clearly fighting against a grin when she asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love. It was my decision to call it off.”

Rebecca did not miss that the girls took an opportunity to high five each other behind her back, but she didn’t comment on it either.

“One of those weird, complicated adult things?”

“Very much so. Remind me to explain it when you’re older.”

Ted arrived a moment later, looking casually handsome as always in khakis and a button-down shirt.

Over breakfast, Rebecca and Ted discussed the plan they’d conceived.

“Carrie and I will spend Christmas here in London with y’all,” Ted said.

“And Ellie, you can go to California for half-term, if you’d like,” Rebecca added.

“And in between that, we’ll have lots of phone calls and write lots of letters, okay?”

Rebecca kept smiling throughout the conversation, wanting the girls and Ted to think she was excited about this arrangement. It was the best they could do, truly, but it meant that her daughter would be flying halfway across the world multiple times a year, a thought that made her stomach roil.

It also meant Rebecca would only get to see Ted once a year, and that was if everything went according to plan.

She’d gone twelve years without seeing him at all, and now the thought of seeing him only for a week out of every year was unbearable?

Breakfast ended regrettably quickly, pushing them ever-closer to Ted and Carrie’s departure. There was always a clock counting down the time for her and Ted, it seemed.

They separated once more to start packing their things. Rebecca took the opportunity to call her mother and tell her the wedding was off (her mother, a little to Rebecca’s chagrin, did not seem terribly surprised by this news). Rebecca started to wonder whether Keeley would return for her things just as the door latch opened and Keeley stepped in.

“Hiya!” she said brightly, but as soon as the door clicked shut, her smile collapsed into a frown. She pressed her back against the door and, as though someone turned a sprinkler on, started crying.

“Keeley?” Rebecca rushed to her side, Ellie a few steps behind. “What’s wrong?” Rebecca put her hands on Keeley’s upper arms, squatting slightly to be eye level with her.

Keeley’s face was buried in her hands. Rebecca attempted to lull her with some gentle shhh-ing, and eventually Keeley calmed down enough to speak. “It’s Roy,” was all she managed.

“What happened?” Rebecca felt her muscles going rigid. “Keeley, if he did anything to hurt you, I’ll–”

“N-no,” she sobbed, “He’s…he’s wonderful and…and…s-so fucking fit.”

“Oh, Keeley,” Rebecca pulled Keeley into a hug, rubbing gentle circles onto her back. Rebecca caught Ellie’s attention and nodded at the carafe of water on the table. She guided Keeley to the sofa where Ellie met them a moment later, pressing a glass of water into Keeley’s hand.

Keeley’s breathing steadied, and she dragged the back of her wrist across the raccoon-like mascara tracks below her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, attempting a pitiful smile.

“Sorry for what?” Rebecca asked sympathetically, thinking Keeley looked how she felt. “The good news is Carrie and Ted will be coming back here for Christmas. Maybe we can ask them to bring Roy?”

Keeley nodded, her bottom lip getting wobbly again.

“Drink some water,” Rebecca encouraged, pointing to the glass in Keeley’s hand, “We’ll get your things packed up for you, won’t we Ellie?” Ellie ran off to Keeley’s bedroom. “All of us are going back to mine once we’ve checked out if you’d like to come?” Keeley’s head jerked a little, which Rebecca decided to take as a yes.

Rebecca sighed. Not one of them was going to survive this separation unscathed.

Ted whistled as the valet pulled up in a Rolls Royce. As the valet dropped the keys into Rebecca’s open hand, he said, “Rebecca, you can’t just steal someone’s car.”

The valet froze for a moment, but seemed to decide it was none of his business as Rebecca rolled her eyes and slipped an ostentatious number of bills into his hand.

Rebecca opened the door on the driver’s side and raised an eyebrow. “You’re more than welcome to walk if you’re worried about being arrested for grand theft auto on foreign soil.”

They pulled up to the curb of Rebecca’s Knightsbridge home a short while later, Roy and Keeley stepping out of a taxi just behind them.

“We’re going to take a walk through the park,” Keeley called out as Roy returned from bringing their luggage inside.

“Pretty,” Ted said, taking off his sunglasses to admire the blooming wisteria crawling upward along the bright white facade.

If he’d thought Rebecca’s Richmond flat was nicely decorated, it had nothing on this place. The cavernous foyer opened up to a gorgeous curving staircase and a long corridor that ended with French doors leading to a vibrant green garden. The care with which she’d decorated it was obvious to him, everything from the ceramic vases full of fresh flowers to the old fashion magazines was placed deliberately and perfectly.

“Welcome in,” Rebecca said, dropping her suitcase at the foot of the stairs.

“I want to show you my room,” Ellie said to Carrie, grabbing her by the arm.

Ellie and Carrie were halfway up the stairs before Rebecca managed to call after them, “Ellie, your suitcase, please.” As Ellie paused and came back down the stairs, Rebecca turned to Ted and said, “I’d offer you tea, but I assume you haven’t developed a sense of taste after all this time?”

“Ouch,” Ted smarted, “I still maintain it’s y’all who are sorely in need of a sense of taste.”

Rebecca smirked. “This way,” she gestured towards the sitting room and Ted followed her. “Make yourself comfortable.” He chose a plush sofa facing an open window.

In short order, Rebecca returned with a stack of photo albums. “I figured this was a good place to start.”

Ted flipped open the first album and immediately his heart started beating faster.

The very first photo was of Rebecca in a floral pink sundress, looking just as she had the last time he’d seen her except for the pronounced slope of her belly. “I don’t have many photos from the pregnancy,” she said apologetically, “I thought I was hideous.” Ted thought the exact opposite.

She flipped forward, using the photos to help fill in the details she’d glanced over during dinner the night before. There were photos of Rebecca in a hospital gown looking sweaty, unkempt, but so happy as she cradled a little baby still covered in goo. In one album pocket was Ellie’s impossibly small hospital bracelet, which Rebecca nudged out and handed to him. He ran a thumb over it, tears springing to his eyes as he did so.

There were photos from the day Ellie came home from the hospital. He tensed as he recognized Rebecca’s Richmond flat, the sofa where that baby had very possibly been conceived, where they’d been sitting when everything had fallen apart. He wondered what had happened to that sofa.

“My mother,” Rebecca said, pointing at a dark-haired woman clutching the baby to her chest. She shared Rebecca’s strong features, though she appeared to be much more slight.

With each page, the baby got bigger until she was a toddler standing on her own two feet. Rebecca would occasionally add a comment like, “Our first visit to the sea,” when he paused on a photo of Rebecca in a striped swimsuit, hands protectively clasped around the shoulders of little Ellie who wore a pair of plastic pink heart-shaped sunglasses. “I thought I’d killed her because she cut her foot open on a rock. We spent the rest of this day at A&E.”

A photo of Ellie beaming at the camera, wearing an adorable plaid school uniform, “Her first day of school. Not photographed is the absolute meltdown she had two minutes later when I told her I wasn’t allowed to go with her.”

Each memory hurt a little more than the last. This was all he’d ever have of those first twelve years, and that was a tough pill to swallow.

He wanted to melt into the photographs, like when they’d stepped into the chalk paintings in Mary Poppins, so he could hold her hand as the doctor stitched up the cut on her foot, or brush away her frustrated tears as she threw a temper tantrum about going to school. But he couldn’t.

Hell, he’d probably have missed most of those moments anyway because he’d been busy doing those things for Carrie in California.

They craned their heads as they heard thundering footsteps down the stairs. Ellie and Carrie burst into the room and wedged themselves between Rebecca and Ted to peer curiously at the photo albums.

The next couple of hours passed all too quickly. He heard the front door swing open, prompting Ted to look up at the mantle clock.

“Shoot,” he sighed. “Time’s up, I’m afraid.”

“Noooo,” Carrie moaned. “Do we have to leave?”

“Sorry, kiddo. Non-refundable flight. Can I use your phone to call a cab?” he asked Rebecca.

Rebecca’s expression was unreadable, but she forced a smile, “Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you there.”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind of you. Thanks.”

He stepped into the foyer and found Roy and Keeley kissing rather passionately in the doorway. They pulled apart at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“You ready to head out, Roy?” Ted asked.

“Fuck no,” he said flatly, “Let’s go.”

“I’ll see you at Christmas?” Keeley asked, her voice tinged with both hope and melancholy.

Roy gave her a half-smile. “Christmas,” he answered, “Cheers.”

They loaded everything and everyone back into the Rolls and arrived at the airport in practically record time, somehow encountering no traffic.

Everyone was silent and somber as they stood outside the gate to the plane, crowds of people moving all around them. Roy was off to the side, glowering at a large clock on the wall as though he could threaten it into stopping.

Carrie and Ellie were clinging to one another for dear life, crying into each other’s arms and forcing one another to make a dozen promises about how frequently they’d call.

This left Rebecca and Ted, standing a couple of feet apart. Rebecca’s arms were crossed tightly across her chest; she seemed to be having trouble making eye contact with him.

“Thank you for this morning. And last night. I…I was glad that you called.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice pinched.

“Final boarding for flight 5986 to Los Angeles,” said a cool female voice over the loudspeaker.

He knew her well enough to know that there was something she wanted to say, but she was holding back. “What is it?” he asked.

Finally, she met his eyes. “I want you to stay.” She let the words sit between them for a moment. “If we could…spend more time together, is that something you’d want?”

Ted didn’t know why he was so surprised by the question. Hadn’t they almost kissed earlier today? Hadn’t they almost done more than that last night?

Before yesterday, he’d assumed Rebecca had long since written him off. On that rainy May day, she’d told him in no uncertain terms how she felt about their relationship. She’d never called him despite the letter he’d left for her. He tried to move on, but instead he’d let his marriage fall apart because he was still clinging to some idiotic hope that maybe Rebecca would deign to waltz back into his life. All the while, they’d been connected by the invisible string of his daughter, whom he didn't know anything about.

And yet, he loved her anyway. He often dreamed about their future together, and maybe that dream looked different now, but it could still exist. And here she was, earnest and vulnerable, baring her heart to him, clearly wondering the same thing.

His heart and his head warred for dominance, the word yes on the tip of his tongue, but “I don’t know, Rebecca,” is what came out instead.

“I understand.” He watched her withdraw, blinking away the glassiness of her eyes. "I've...I've put you through so much. It's unfair of me to ask."

She tried to sound strong, confident, but he saw the hurt she wanted so desperately to conceal.

"No, it's not like that." God, he wished he had more time to explain. He couldn’t leave here without telling her he wasn’t ready to give up. Not again. “Listen. The letter-”

“This is your final boarding call for flight 5986 to Los Angeles,” came the voice again, "The plane doors will be closing momentarily."

Rebecca’s brow furrowed, “Wh—”

“Alright, time to wrap up the goodbyes,” Roy said gruffly. “Else we’re going to miss the plane.”

Ellie had walked over to Ted, still a little shy. Ted tore his gaze away from Rebecca and got down on one knee in front of her, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you, sweetheart. I’m countin’ down the days until Christmas.”

“I love you, too, dad,” she whispered. It made his heart sing to hear her call him dad.

He stood, catching sight of Rebecca giving Carrie a kiss on the forehead. She ran over to Ted, tears still streaming down her face, and all three of them waved goodbye to Ellie, who was clutching Rebecca’s waist and crying into her shirt, and Rebecca, who wore an inscrutable expression. He hoped she understood - did she even remember what he'd written? She'd probably burned the letter or thrown it away years ago.

Ted forced himself to turn, bullied himself into stepping forward, fought his compulsion to look at them. As he handed his ticket to the agent, he couldn’t help but glance back just once more, but he could no longer see them through the crowd.

It was only the early afternoon by the time Rebecca and Ellie returned home from the airport, but they seemed to be equally exhausted. Both of them changed into comfortable clothes and curled up together on the sofa, finding something banal and mindless to put on the TV.

Rebecca fought against the instinct to wallow, opting for numbness instead. She kept reminding herself it wasn’t the end, that they’d all be reunited in only a few months. Ted’s rejection—if she could even call it a rejection—stung. She just wished they’d had more time to talk things through.

At some point, Rebecca fell asleep and woke up in the early evening, the sun outside getting low. Ellie was nestled in the crook of Rebecca’s knees, flipping the pages of a book.

“What’re you reading?” Rebecca mumbled, a yawn catching the end of her sentence. Ellie held the book cover up so Rebecca could read it, and she smiled. “A Room with a View? That’s one of my favorites, you know.”

Ellie peered over the book. “I can tell by all the notes you made.”

She hadn’t picked up the novel in years, just one more thing stained by the memory of Ted, but it made her happy to know Ellie got to read it alongside her, in a sense.

“There’s one note in here in different handwriting, though.”

Rebecca pushed herself up on an elbow. “What do you mean?”

“Hang on,” Ellie said, flipping back the pages until she found what she was looking for. She handed the open book over to Rebecca.

Rebecca’s eyes flew across the page, drawn to the passage she’d once known almost by heart. She recognized the three underlines she’d made in pen, but beneath that was another line, this one in pencil. She followed it until she spotted a brief note written in handwriting she’d never seen before but recognized immediately.

The poets are right. I’ll love you forever.

Seeing the note broke something inside of her. A ringing started in her ear. She managed to ask Ellie to order them pizza for dinner using the cash in her purse before she fled upstairs to her bedroom. In something of a fugue state, she splashed cold water onto her temples, her neck, her wrists. After four deep, difficult breaths, the ringing diminished slightly.

Somehow, she ended up laying on top of her bed. She heard the doorbell ring some time later, and soon after, a tepid knock on her bedroom door. “Mum? Pizza’s arrived. Are you okay?”

Rebecca took another shuddering breath, “I’m sorry, darling. I’m feeling a little poorly. I might get hungry later if you’ll save the leftovers for me, alright?”

“Okay,” Ellie replied shakily.

Rebecca drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point, she woke up to find a cooled cup of tea on her nightstand and Ellie laying next to her, fast asleep. The sweetness of it made her weep, tears she’d been holding back falling freely. She bit down on her pillow, doing her best to choke back the sobs so as to not disturb her sleeping daughter.

Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured Ted’s words again, heard him saying I don’t know, saw him leaning in to kiss her as they sat on the edge of the hotel bed.

Ted had loved her. She had loved Ted. How different would their lives be if they’d just told each other?

Just when she thought she’d stopped crying, more tears would chase the last until she was an exhausted, puffy mess. Eventually, sleep dragged her under and she didn’t wake again until mid-morning.

When she awoke and realized Ellie was no longer there, so she dragged herself out of bed and went downstairs, feeling more like a specter than a person. To her surprise, she found Ellie seated in the kitchen, munching on some toast, fruit, and yogurt. She’d even made extra for Rebecca, which turned the waterworks back on.

Ellie had barely looked up when Rebecca turned on a heel and fled the room. She went back to her bedroom and picked up the phone, punching in a number.

“Mum? Would you be able to come take Ellie for a couple of days?”

A short while later, Rebecca heard her mother enter the house, and listened to their murmuring, hushed voices as her mother helped Ellie pack her bag. There was a gentle knock on the door. Rebecca fought down the instinct to say go away.

Ellie’s blonde head poked nervously through the gap, Deborah hovering behind her. “We’re leaving, mum. Will you be alright?” Ellie’s doe eyes were wide with concern.

Rebecca realized then how scared Ellie must’ve been to see her like this.

She forced herself to sit up. “Oh, my darling, come here.” She held her arms out to Ellie who sprinted over and flung herself into them. Rebecca buried her face in Ellie’s strawberry-scented curls. “It’s not your responsibility to worry about me, alright? I just need…a little time to wallow, and I’ll be right as rain.” Rebecca lied through her teeth, catching her mother’s knowing glance as she kissed Ellie on the top of her head. “Now, mother, don’t let Ellie get too drunk or commit any felonies. Misdemeanors only."

“Mum,” Ellie groaned.

“I love you, darling.”

“Love you, too.”

“Penelope, wait for me downstairs, won’t you?” Deborah fully entered the room, holding the door for Ellie who scampered out. Rebecca swallowed as Ellie’s footsteps pounded down the stairs and Deborah swung the door closed behind her.

Deborah took a seat on the edge of Rebecca’s bed.

“It breaks my heart to see you hurting like this, my brave girl,” she sighed, “If I could take the pain from you and shoulder it myself, I would.”

Rebecca stared at her, a bit gobsmacked. Was her hurt so obvious that even her mother, a woman of questionable emotional intelligence, could see it? Her mother was hardly ever forthright and infrequently vocally sympathetic. When she’d found Rebecca crying as a girl, she’d offer no real words of comfort, no maternal cooing, just a pat on the back and a chin up, Sausage.

“I know you don’t think highly of my opinion on many things, and you’re right not to,” Deborah said evenly, “But one thing I know for certain: you’ve always been so brave. And stupidly noble. And I think you’ve always felt you have to be because God knows nobody else is when given the choice, myself certainly included.”

“I’m just so tired, mum. I don’t want to be brave anymore.” Fresh tears pricked at Rebecca’s eyes.

“Then don’t be. Be selfish for once.”

“But I have been. I am. I’ve been so fucking selfish—”

“I don’t believe that and neither should you. Did Ted tell you that? Did Penelope?”

Rebecca paused for a long moment, wondering briefly how her mother knew about Ted, before she shook her head, realizing that selfish was something she’d only ever called herself.

“Choosing to raise a child on your own is not something a selfish person would do. Selfish people stay with their philandering husbands because they are too afraid of being alone. Selfish people refuse to speak to their daughter for months after she’s just lost her father because they don’t understand their daughter was just trying to protect them. Brave, noble people carry their burdens—and everybody else’s, too—on their own, without anybody asking it of them.”

“Mother—” Deborah raised a hand to stop her from speaking.

“I never pressed you about Penelope's father. I could always tell it was a sore spot for you. But I think I understand." Deborah cupped Rebecca’s face affectionately. "Stop punishing yourself, Rebecca. You deserve to be happy.”

“Nan?” Ellie’s voice called from below.

“Coming, darling.” Deborah hooked a finger under Rebecca’s chin and pressed gently upwards, a familiar gesture that Rebecca recognized as her mother’s version of I love you. Without another word, she stood up and walked out the door.

Rebecca laid in bed for a long time after that, sleep eventually pulling her under.

Until she was awakened some hours later in the gloaming of the late summer evening to a pounding at the front door. The drunkenness of sleep dissipated rapidly as her heart started thrashing in her chest.

Could it be?

She belted her silk dressing gown over her pajamas and rushed down the stairs.

Rebecca paused to take one deep breath before she yanked the door open.

Chapter Text

“Keeley!” Rebecca yelped in surprise as Keeley stopped the momentum of her forceful knocking just in time to avoid punching Rebecca in the solar plexus.

“Are you alright?” Keeley burst through the threshold and threw her arms around Rebecca.

“Not really, but I’m alive.” Rebecca returned Keeley’s hug, knowing there was no point trying to lie to the tiny human lie detector. “Why were you knocking? You have a key.”

“I didn’t want to surprise you in case you were masturbating the depression away.”

“Oh? You wouldn’t have liked to walk in on me doing that?” Rebecca smirked, trying to hide her mild disappointment that it hadn't been Ted at the door.

“What I want is not important in this situation because, yes, obviously, I would’ve liked that very much, but you are the priority right now.”

“You’re sweet…but why–”

“Your daughter called me, worried out of her adorable little mind. She’s never seen you behave like this, and it’s freaking her out. It’s freaking me out, too, if I’m being honest.”

Rebecca sighed. “Come in. Let’s have some tea.”

“And maybe something a little stronger.” Keeley dug a bottle of gin out from her bag.

After preparing their drinks, they migrated to the sofa. Rebecca attempted to explain everything that had happened since she’d last seen Keeley.

“Oh, Rebecca.” Keeley threw her arms around Rebecca’s neck. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I think–”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Thinking. What do you feel?” Keeley insisted.

“I feel…” Rebecca closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “I feel horrible because I’ve fucked everything beyond hope of repair. I feel afraid that Ted will resent me forever for never telling him about Ellie. I feel happy that Ellie finally gets to have a father and a sister in her life. I feel like shit because they live on the other side of the world. I feel heartbroken because when I picture all of them together, I don’t see myself in the frame. I feel like I wish I had a time machine so I could go back in time and pick up the fucking phone to–”

Her eyes popped open.

“To what?”

“The letter. Ted mentioned a letter. But…”

“Letter? What letter?” Keeley was leaning forward, her eyes bright.

“That’s the thing…I never received a letter. I–” Rebecca’s mouth went suddenly dry. “Oh my God. Oh…oh my God.” Rebecca stood up like a woman possessed, so abruptly she splashed gin onto her dressing gown. She haphazardly slammed the glass onto the coffee table with a clink and bolted out of the room, barely aware of the sound of Keeley’s feet chasing after her.

Rebecca took the stairs two at a time until she reached the top floor landing. “I have never seen you move like this, you big, beautiful gazelle. What the fuck is going on?” Keeley panted as she followed Rebecca.

Rebecca commanded, “Grab the rope,” and she hoisted Keeley in the air.

Keeley let out a girlish giggle as Rebecca practically flung her towards the ceiling. “Fuck, I’ve had a dream about this exact thing, ropes and all.” She looked upward, spotting the cord for the attic door and snatching it. Rebecca lowered her to the ground, assisting her in pulling down the ladder.

Rebecca scrambled up, cursing as she batted away cobwebs and tripped over several boxes before locating the light switch and flipping it on. The attic was dusty from disuse but not terribly full, so it wasn’t long before her eyes fell on a banker’s box labeled Rebecca Welton’s mail. Rebecca took the box and passed it to Keeley through the attic opening before climbing back down the ladder.

“Can you please tell me what the fuck is happening? I am absolutely dying.”

Rebecca took the box back from Keeley and rushed into her bedroom, turning on the lights and dropping to the floor.

“Before I bought this house, I let a flat in Richmond from an elderly woman named Mrs. Shipley.” Rebecca could scarcely speak, her mouth was so dry. She tentatively opened the dusty box. “She was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet, but she had this terrible habit of accidentally stealing and then losing my mail.”

Rebecca’s fingers fell on a rubber banded bundle of mail, her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear her own words.

“When she passed away a couple of years ago her daughters sent this to me. They’d found it among her belongings. But I hadn’t lived there in years, I assumed there couldn’t be anything…important…So I never really looked through it all.”

Rebecca felt sick to her stomach as she started scanning each item. Most of it was useless, but then, wedged between a copy of Vogue and a food bank drive notice was a small piece of paper folded into a square, not in an envelope at all.

Hastily scrawled on the outside was her name in the same hand that had written the annotation in the book.

Keeley let out a little gasp. “Is that from Ted?”

Rebecca slowly unfolded the paper. If her heart started beating any faster, she’d surely pass out.

If she had doubts about who had written it, they vanished when she saw the Queen Elizabeth 2 logo emblazoned across the top of the page. She thought she could even see the ghostly imprint of the sketch she’d done of Ted.

She took one shuddering breath and began to read:

Rebecca,

I was hoping to tell you this in person, but I guess I missed you.

What you said about me was true, in more ways than you know. You always did have this freaky ability to see right through me.

I hope somehow you’ll forgive me for leaving, but more importantly, I hope you’ll forgive yourself for telling me to go. It was the hard choice, but the braver one. I don’t think I could’ve made it on my own.

I keep thinking about ‘The Odyssey.' We talked about it the night we met, remember? When I first read it, I thought Penelope was a pretty unrealistic character. Couldn’t comprehend that you could love someone so much, nothing could keep you from believing they’d return to you, even if it took 20 years. Even if everyone thought you were crazy. Even if the world kept moving forward while you stood still.

But I understand her now. Because I’d easily wait 20 years for you, Rebecca. I’d wait 20 more. Heck, I’d wait a lifetime if I had to.

I don’t know a lot of things, but I do know this isn’t the end of our story. I don’t have a plan. Not yet. But if you’re willing to try, I hope you’ll call me. I wrote my number on the bottom of this page.

I love you, Rebecca. I have almost the entire time I’ve known you. I should’ve told you every day.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

Ted

Rebecca was frozen in place as she read the letter over three times, Keeley hovering over her shoulder, reading it alongside her.

“Holy fuck. This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” Keeley muttered. “You never saw this until just right now?”

“No,” Rebecca said, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach. “He must’ve come back…after I’d left to find him.”

Rebecca’s thoughts were racing at a million miles per second. Had she unwittingly passed Ted’s taxi as she sped to Heathrow? If she’d just stayed home instead of chasing after him, she would’ve seen him. He hadn’t just left without turning back, the same way she hadn’t.

“Rebecca.” Keeley sat up on her knees and sandwiched Rebecca’s face between her hands. “Do you love Ted? And don’t try to bullshit me like you did the other day because I’m onto your shit now.”

“I do.”

“What?” Keeley’s voice was a challenge.

Rebecca swallowed. “I love Ted. I’ve loved him for twelve years. I’ll probably love him for the rest of my life.”

“Respectfully, babe, why the fuck am I the first person you’re telling this to?”

Ted, Carrie, and Roy had all been in a funk since setting foot back in California.

He’d called this place home for nearly half his life, but somehow it felt foreign, more foreign than the foreign country he’d just left.

Ted was on edge. Carrie was unnervingly quiet and sulky. Roy was unnervingly nice.

Fortunately, jet lag meant he spent a considerable amount of time unconscious, even without the assistance of the bourbon his fingers itched to hold as regret started to seep in.

The day after they returned, Ted checked in with his employees to make sure everything was on schedule for the harvest, but he was distracted, unfocused, and frankly, found he didn’t particularly care.

He’d rightly predicted that seeing Rebecca again would shake the foundations of his life. His thoughts drifted back to her frequently, wondering what she was doing, how she was feeling, whether she hated him, whether he’d made a mistake by referencing the letter.

When he returned to the house later that day, he asked Carrie whether she’d spoken to Ellie on the phone.

“I called but nobody picked up,” Carrie said somberly, shrugging. “They’re probably asleep by now.”

“Evil, thy name is timezones.” Ted shook his fist in the air.

“What?” Carrie asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Uncultured,” Roy muttered as he chopped up ingredients for dinner.

“That’s a reference to Hamlet, sweetheart, which I’m sure Roy realizes you’re still a little young for.” Ted shot Roy a look.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I really miss them.”

“Me too.”

The next day passed much like the previous one. He started to dread the idea that every day in this post-post-Rebecca and Ellie era was going to feel like some variation of this.

That feeling turned to concern when he came home and asked Carrie the same question as she was carefully (and very badly) wrapping up a birthday present for some midnight bowling sleepover party she was attending that night. She reported that once again, nobody had answered the phone.

“Roy, have you talked to Keeley?” Ted asked, trying to keep his voice even-keeled.

“No,” he said shortly, “Didn’t answer, either.”

Ted’s mind went to all the worst possible explanations, as it was want to do, everything from any number of scenarios that resulted in their sudden deaths to Rebecca being so angry he’d rejected her, she was intentionally icing them out. The latter seemed highly improbable, but that just left him with the former as an explanation, which didn’t make him feel any better.

“Kinda weird, right?” Ted looked at the two of them, seeking some kind of validation of his anxiety, but already thinking that if he didn’t hear from them tomorrow, he might have to get on a plane and go check on them himself.

“Probably just busy, aren’t they? You think they’re just sitting around the house waiting for a fucking phone call?” Roy said.

“Occam’s razor. I like it.” Roy’s radically simple explanation actually helping him feel a bit better.

“What?”

“Oh, I know that one. Who’s uncultured now?” Carrie stuck her tongue out at Roy who gave a classic sort of half-smile, half-grimace.

They sat side-by-side at the kitchen island, each with a comically large Lady and the Tramp style plate of spaghetti and meatballs when the doorbell rang.

Ted paused, a single spaghetti noodle dangling out of his mouth at the unexpected sound. “That’s probably Mrs. Robinson to pick me up for Maggie’s party,” Carrie said, seeing Ted’s surprised look.

“Except I’m driving you there,” Roy responded, eyes narrowed. “Probably one of the neighbors,” Roy grumbled, “I’ll go tell them to fuck off.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll go see what they need.” Ted pushed himself back from the counter, his chair scraping against the floor. “Five bucks says Mrs. Truman’s chickens escaped again.”

“You’re on,” Roy called after him.

Ted strolled to the front door with ease, the bell ringing one more time before he got there. “One sec,” he called out, jogging the rest of the way to the door. He turned the knob, trying to quickly work out a pun using the phrase ‘the plot chickens’ as he pulled it open.

But the pun died on his lips, his breath stolen from him.

“Surprise,” said Rebecca, standing before him, stunning in a pair of whitewashed denim jeans and a somewhat wrinkled white button-down shirt.

Rebecca?

Rebecca Welton standing on his doorstep. In Napa Valley. In California. In the United States of America. He blinked a few times, thinking the illusion would surely vanish. But it didn’t.

“I guess I owe Roy five dollars,” he muttered, apparently a bit too stunned to say something normal like hello.

“Interesting greeting,” she said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I–” she started.

“Dad, who is it?” Carrie called out, her footsteps approaching.

“Sorry. Please, come in,” Ted opened the door fully and gestured for her to enter.

“Rebecca?” Carrie beamed and rushed forward to give Rebecca a hug.

“Hi,” Rebecca said breathlessly, giving Carrie a squeeze and brushing her hair back affectionately. “Hasn’t been that long, but it’s good to see you all the same, darling.”

“Is Ellie here?” Carrie asked, peering around like she might’ve stuffed Ellie in a corner or chucked her in the bushes.

“No. I’m sorry. There was only one seat left on the flight, so she and Keeley are on the first one out tomorrow morning.”

“Are you telling me you flew all the way here alone?” Ted asked, equal parts impressed and concerned.

“In coach,” Rebecca said, exasperated.

“Are you hungry?” Carrie asked. “Roy made spaghetti.”

“I’d guessed as much from your father’s mustache,” she said, glancing at Ted, gesturing to her own upper lip. Ted’s hand flew to his mouth, wiping a splatter of spaghetti sauce off of it. “I’m alright, though, thank you. Carrie, do you mind if I speak to your father for a moment?”

Carrie nodded, glancing between them suspiciously, and ran back to the kitchen.

“Right this way.” Ted motioned for Rebecca to follow him. He led her through the house and out to the back patio, illuminated by a web of fairy lights that reflected romantically in the rippling pool water.

“Your home is stunning, Ted,” Rebecca said, her eyes studying the house. He detected more than a little nervousness in her voice.

“Thanks. Since I wasn’t able to go to Tuscany, I thought why not bring Tuscany to me?”

Rebecca’s eyes finally landed on Ted. She took a deep breath and began to speak, “I’m so sorry for just showing up like this. I know I should’ve called, but…Well, I have no good reason for why I didn’t, other than I think I’ve completely lost my fucking mind.”

“But…Why did you come?” Not that he wasn’t glad to see her.

She took a deep breath through her nose. “I am so sorry for fucking everything up. It’s…unforgivable. You’ve been so kind and unbelievably understanding, despite how difficult this must be for you. And I completely respect that you need time and space to process it all before…before we can move forward.”

“I appreciate that, Rebecca, but you didn’t need to come all this way to apologize for something you’ve already apologized for half a dozen times.”

“I didn’t come to apologize. Well, not for that, at any rate. I want to apologize for…” She rifled through her bag and pulled out a folded square of paper, “For replying to your letter twelve years late.”

Ted’s heart was in his throat. “You kept it all this time?”

“I—” she searched for the words. “Ted, I never even saw it until yesterday.”

“You—” Understanding began to click into place. “Mrs. Shipley?” he asked.

Rebecca nodded somberly. “She passed away years ago. Her daughters found all my missing mail when they were cleaning out her house. This was in a stack that I never bothered to look through, but you mentioned the letter at the airport, and I realized wh-what must’ve happened.” Rebecca worked hard to keep her voice from breaking apart as she spoke.

“Damn,” Ted mumbled, ashamed of the fact that he’d had no faith in her at all; he’d fabricated an entire story of her bitterness, her hatred, her anger, based on a simple misunderstanding.

“That day you left.” Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes, “I tried to find you. I spent all day at Heathrow, searching for you, but we must’ve just…missed each other.”

Ted felt like his entire stomach was trying to punch its way out of his body. How was it possible that by trying to find each other again, they’d been two ships passing in the night?

“A lovely man at the airport spoke to me because I was causing a bit of a scene. He quoted The Odyssey to me, of all fucking things. I named our daughter Penelope without even knowing about the letter, Ted. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

Rebecca was always more of a Scully than a Mulder; she was the last person he would’ve expected to believe in signs, fate, or any of that crap. But, if it was enough to make her believe, well, who was he to disagree?

“What was the quote?”

Rebecca laughed. “Ted, that’s hardly important right now. The point is, I needed to come here because I didn’t want there to be any more misunderstanding. I wanted you to be able to see me when I tell you, so you know I mean every word.”

“When you tell me what?”

“My whole life, I thought I could do it all on my own because I believed it was easier that way. But it isn’t easy. It’s fucking hard. And lonely. And terrifying. And I realize now, I don’t want to live like that anymore because…because that’s not living at all. I want someone to share it all with. And I don’t just want someone, I want you. Because I love you, Ted. I fell in love with you twelve years ago, and I’ve loved you every day since.”

“Rebecca, I–”

“I don’t mean to put pressure on you,” she interrupted him.

“Rebecca–” he tried again.

“I understand you need time, and space.”

“Rebecca–”

But she trampled over him, “And I was so presumptuous to just show up like this–”

“Rebecca,” he said firmly, finally capturing her attention. He grinned, his cheeks dimpling, as he said, “I was going to tell you that everything I wrote in that letter is still true. I love you, too.”

This time, there was no hesitation.

They crashed into one another, lips meeting in a deliriously passionate kiss. Rebecca’s arms were around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair. Ted crushed her to him, his hands on her back, her hips, her neck, her face, like he needed to make sure she was really there, that all of this was real.

Kissing her again was both familiar and wholly new. He felt warm, and free, and alive. It was like waking from a deep and fitful slumber to find that the world was far more beautiful than he remembered. He lost all sense of time, of place, somehow everywhere and nowhere but right here, in this moment, with Rebecca in his arms.

Eventually, their lips broke apart, both taking gulps of the warm night air as they clung to one another. Ted pressed a kiss to her brow, her temple, the tip of her nose, punctuating each with a murmured I love you like he was making up for lost time.

They stayed in each other’s arms for a long while, swaying gently despite there being no music. “Where were you plannin’ on staying?” he asked, curious about what she would’ve done if this had gone a different way.

“Oh, I can find some kitschy little inn nearby…”

Ted leaned back, cupping her jaw and brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Will you stay with me tonight? I can be plenty kitschy, if that’s a deciding factor.”

“Kitschy or not, there’s nothing I want more in the world.”

She kissed him again, with a little more heat this time. Losing any sense of control, Ted’s hands began to wander down her back, pushing her toward the patio table, when the sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway interrupted them.

Ted and Rebecca’s heads both snapped over to Roy, now leaning against the doorframe and watching them with one raised eyebrow. “I was going to tell you I was leaving to take Carrie to her party. And then I was going to go to the cinema, but now I'm thinking, why pay when I’ve got a free show right here?” A flush rose on Ted’s cheeks and he coughed uncomfortably. “Rebecca,” Roy said, giving her a curt nod, "There's still spaghetti if you're hungry."

“Roy,” she replied, smirking.

“You’ve gotta be hungry. I shudder to think of the kind of meals they served you in coach.” Ted winked.

Rebecca shoved his shoulder lightly. “I’d love some. Thank you, Roy.” As they followed Roy in, she leaned into Ted and whispered, “I’m starting to understand why him and Keeley get on so well.”

They ate their spaghetti in the kitchen, chatting casually about Rebecca’s harrowing experience flying transcontinental in coach, where the older man next to her had commented on how nervous she looked, spread his legs out like the whole row belonged to him, and then asked Rebecca for her number when they landed. Carrie popped in, a backpack hanging off her shoulder and the messily wrapped gift in hand, to give both of them a quick goodbye.

They were both silent as the front door clicked shut, ears perked as they listened to the roar of the engine fade away. Without speaking, they calmly cleaned off their dishes like they hadn’t a care in the world.

As Rebecca pushed the dishwasher door shut, Ted pressed his body flush against her back, his arms circling around her waist. “Is this okay?” he whispered, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“Mmm,” Rebecca hummed in the affirmative, leaning back into him, her arm forming an L-shape as her hand looped around the back of his head.

“You really have impeccable timing,” he murmured into her neck, planting a kiss there.

Rebecca snorted, “Oh, please. If this experience has taught us anything, it’s that I have the worst timing.”

“Then maybe your luck is turning around,” he said, brushing her ear with his nose, “‘Cause the way I see it, one day earlier or later, we wouldn’t have had this whole place to ourselves, and you,” he traced her jaw with his fingers, gently turning her face to his, “would’ve had to be very, very quiet.”

“Me be quiet?” Rebecca swiveled around in his grip, her back now to the counter. “I seem to recall it was you who made such a racket, a nearly deaf old woman started banging a broom against the ceiling in the middle of the bloody night.”

Ted narrowed his eyes and looked from side to side like he was searching his brain for the memory before he shrugged. “Hmmm. Nope. Not ringin’ any bells. Sorry.”

“Then I suppose you’ve also forgotten the thing I did with my tongue that caused it all to begin with,” Rebecca teased, one eyebrow arched.

“Oh no, that I remember vividly,” he said, desire building in his core, “Memory’s a funny thing, ain’t it?” Ted pulled one of her hands up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle. “For instance, I remembered you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but even that memory pales in comparison to the real deal.”

A half-smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, color flooding her cheeks. Ted kissed that flush, dragging his lips across her cheek until he found her mouth again. His hips bucked forward ever so gently until she was braced against the counter.

He kissed her breathless, starting to wonder whether they’d even be able to leave this room when she pressed a palm against his chest. He broke off the kiss, his brows stitching together as he asked, “You okay?”

“Yes,” she panted, “Just…promise me something.”

“Anything,” he breathed.

“I want this. I want you, so long as you want me, too.” Her hand slid from his chest to his hip, clawing at his t-shirt a little possessively.

“Ditto,” he said.

“Promise that no matter what happens tonight, we’re not going to sweep all the bad things under the rug. That we won’t just…pick up where we left off and pretend like the last twelve years didn’t happen.”

He stilled, realizing how easy it would be to slip right back into pretending they were the Ted and Rebecca of ‘86.

“Running away from our feelings clearly has not worked out well for us before. I don’t want a clean slate, I want…I want to take accountability, even though I’m not sure what that looks like yet.” Rebecca’s expression was serious, determined. A lesser person would beg for him to forget all about the hurt, the anger, the resentment.

Rebecca wasn’t asking to be at his mercy, and she trusted him enough to know he would never treat her like she was. She was putting her fragile heart in his hands, and he recognized it for the gift it was. He didn’t intend on throwing it away. “I promise. I promise we’ll work through this together. No more runnin’. My knees are too worn down for that shit, anyway.”

Her mouth stretched into a wide smile, the gorgeous lines of her face appearing as she did so. “I love you,” she said, “And your geriatric knees.”

“Phew,” he said, “Don’t ever let me get used to hearing you say that.”

“What? Geriatric knees?” she purred, her lips grazing his ear.

“You sure know how to turn me on, baby,” he joked, but it actually kinda did turn him on.

“Before you get too carried away, is there any chance I could use your shower? I want to wash the airplane off.”

“Sure thing. I can show you around on the way up.” He was loath to unpeel himself from her, finding that as little physical space between them was working for him at the moment, but he led her through the house. As they passed through the foyer, Ted grabbed Rebecca’s suitcase and thought idly about how light it felt as he carried it up the stairs.

Rebecca asked where Roy slept, and he explained that there was a guest house on the other side of the pool. He pointed out Carrie’s room as they passed it which looked, to put it mildly, like a bomb had gone off, a sight that made Rebecca tense up ever so slightly and Ted grimaced. “Yeah…I had Roy stop cleaning her room when she turned 10 to try and teach her some responsibility. Hasn’t quite worked yet, but I remain hopeful." He swept her quickly off to his bedroom at the far end of the hallway before she got any more stressed from looking at the mess.

Ted occupied a ludicrously large bedroom. As he opened the large balcony doors, he told Rebecca that when the sun was out, you could see the entire vineyard and the mountains beyond, which was a pretty big perk.

He pointed out the door to the en suite, which she pushed open and walked through, exclaiming, “Fucking Christ,” half a beat later.

“Everything alright?” he asked, rushing over to her.

Rebecca turned around, mouth agape. “Your fucking bathroom is bigger than entire flats I’ve lived in. Americans,” she muttered derisively. “I mean, what do you do with all this space? Host balls? Do you whip out the pins and go bowling in here?”

Ted placed his hands on both of her shoulders and pushed her gently into the bathroom, smiling. “Towels are there,” he pointed to a closet, “and twist the knob right for hot water despite what the faucet says. Some idiot plummer named Ted installed it wrong, and I’ve never bothered to fix it. Enjoy.”

Ted felt a little awkward as he waited for her, unsure what to do with himself. He attempted to arrange himself casually on the bed, but that felt weird, so instead he sat in an armchair, holding a book, but his eyes didn’t pick up a single word since his mind, apparently, insisted on conjuring images of Rebecca in the shower.

He heard the water shut off, and a short while later, the door slowly opened. Rebecca stood in the doorway, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, her hair roughly dried. Ted observed her as she padded over to her suitcase, which he’d left near the door. She unzipped it and then proceeded to stare blankly at its contents.

“You okay?” he asked, a little perplexed.

“I did a fucking horrible job packing,” she replied shortly.

With apparently no further explanation forthcoming, Ted walked up next to her and peered down into the suitcase. Well, that explained why it’d been so light. All that was in it was a toothbrush, a scattered handful of underwear, one dress, and a single stiletto heel.

“Hey, at least you remembered your toothbrush and your underwear, two things you probably don’t wanna borrow from me. I can cover just about everything else, though. I’ll grab you some PJ’s—”

Rebecca grabbed his forearm, preventing him from walking away. Her voice was completely casual as she said, “Seems a little silly for me to put on clothes only for you to take them back off again, no?”

“Well…I didn’t wanna presume,” he demurred, blushing a little. “I mean, it’s, what, four in the morning for you right now?”

“Famously the horniest hour of the day,” she lilted, stepping closer to him, circling her arms around his neck.

Ted’s hands fell to her hips, very aware that with one gentle tug, the towel would fall away from her body. “Famously, huh?” he chuckled. “Not sure I’ve heard that before.”

“Mmm,” she hummed into his mouth as she planted a kiss there, “Maybe it’s a British saying, then.”

“Well, no thrill quite like gainin’ a broader understanding of our cultural differences,” he said.

He kissed her again, more slowly this time, letting the heat build as his tongue circled hers, his hands carefully moving over her body so as not to accidentally dislodge the towel. No, he wanted to be very specific about when that came off.

“One more thing,” he murmured, leaning back a little so he could see her entire face, “If it feels like we’re moving too fast…doing too much too soon, just say, uh, ‘Oklahoma.’”

“Uh, Oklahoma?”

“No, no, just ‘Oklahoma.’”

“I understand. If I want to stop, I will say: ‘Just Oklahoma,’” she smirked.

“You are in rare form tonight, Rebecca Welton,” he laughed.

“It’s because in my head it’s four in the morning, and, now you know what that means to us Brits, so how about you take me over to that terribly comfortable looking bed of yours, unless of course, you want to move it into the bathroom first. I think there’s more space in there.”

Ted took her hand and together they walked to the edge of the bed.

Rebecca was practically trembling with desire, every touch ran through her like an electric current. The anticipation had been building for days at this point, really years if she thought about it, meaning this would either be the best or the quickest sex of her life. Maybe both.

She still couldn’t quite believe she was really here; everything that had happened since discovering the letter was a bit of a blur. And Ted wasn’t wrong, she was exhausted, but still more awake than perhaps she’d ever been.

The bedroom was bathed in a low, orange glow from a single lamp in the corner. As Ted stepped closer to her, she admired the way it brought out the warmth in his brown eyes.

Ted’s lips found the hollow of her throat, and she closed her eyes, craning her neck back in pleasure. His hands teased apart the towel's knot. The cool night air kissed her still damp skin as it fell away, sending a little thrill through her.

She heard a hitch in Ted’s breath, and she looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes to find him apparently drinking her in. Under the weight of his appraisal, she didn’t feel shy or uneasy, even knowing her body was a bit softer, a bit rounder (or flatter, depending on which part) than the last time he’d seen it. There was a twinkle in his eye, a light curve to his lip as he murmured, “I’ll never, ever get used to how gorgeous you are for as long as I live.”

Rebecca desperately wanted to feel his skin against hers, so she reached forward and tugged his t-shirt off. She wrapped her arms around him, his hands finding the tender areas of her body, running up and down the valley of her spine, along the crest of her hip, over the curve of her breast, but carefully—or perhaps cruelly—avoiding the most sensitive parts.

“You’ve had a very trying day.” Ted’s fingers dug into her hips, pulling them in towards his own, and she sucked in a breath as she felt the hardness growing there. “How about you let me take care of you?”

“Well, if you insist,” she sighed with mock exasperation.

“Nope, no insisting here. Just an offer of 5-star, first-class service, to make up for the lack thereof on the airplane.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, biting back a grin, “Awfully bold of you to mock me when you have a bathroom the size of Buckingham Palace.”

“I’m not mocking you,” he insisted. She shot him a look. “Alright, I’m mocking you a little, but also you deserve nothin’ less than the best, so have a seat, won’t you, Ms. Welton?”

Rebecca obliged, stealing a kiss from him on her way down. Ted planted one knee on the ground, and winced a little as he dropped the other. Noticing this, Rebecca grabbed one of the pillows from the head of the bed and pushed it into his chest. “For your geriatric knees,” she said as alluringly as possible.

“If you say that one more time, this is all going to be over very quickly,” he muttered teasingly as he prised her legs gently apart and dropped the pillow into the space they left behind. Re-positioned, his mouth lined up perfectly with her breasts, which he took immediate advantage of by taking one of her nipples into his mouth, circling it with his tongue until it was a tight peak. Rebecca’s back arched in response, the ache between her legs blooming.

Ted’s nails rasped up the outside of her thighs, settling on her hips. Rebecca twined her fingers into his hair, her head falling backwards, her eyes closing as Ted kissed and nipped his way down her abdomen and the tops of her thighs, the scratch of his mustache drawing a moan from her.

“Alright, baby, I’m gonna need you to get nice and comfortable,” he said, his voice intoxicatingly husky, as he slid an arm beneath her thigh. Rebecca opened her eyes, arousal spiking as she saw Ted’s euphoric, tender expression. “Can you hand me another pillow, sweetheart?” She untangled her fingers from his hair and retrieved a pillow, which he positioned behind her lower back. She took the cue, falling backwards until her shoulders hit the soft bedding, her hips lifted slightly thanks to the pillow. “Comfortable?”

“Yes,” she said. The small gesture made her feel loved and cared for, and it flooded her with a warmth that had nothing to do with arousal.

“Good, ‘cause we might be here for a minute,” he said with a wink.

Ted hooked the crook of her knee over his shoulder and clawed his fingers into the top of her leg, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. He kissed the inside of her thigh, and she gasped as he sucked the tender skin there between his teeth for the briefest moment.

“Oh, fuck,” Rebecca groaned as Ted parted her lips with his thumb and set her ablaze just by grazing her clit. “More,” she pleaded.

“Does that feel good?” he asked as his finger found her clit again, circling it tortuously slowly.

“God, yes,” she said, her voice anchored low in her chest, and then moaned a few more affirmations as the feeling intensified.

She nearly groaned in frustration when he stopped, but half a beat later, his tongue flattened against her, and that groan turned into a noise of unbridled pleasure.

Ted found a steady rhythm, rotating between broad strokes of his tongue and light suction, never increasing his pace in an attempt to rush her to an end, instead building her up slowly, patiently. As she felt herself getting closer to the edge, one of her hands fisted the sheets beside her while the other traveled across her stomach and over her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck,” Ted groaned. She felt the vibration of his voice and the warmth of his breath spill over her clit as the swear slipped out. She looked down to find him peering up at her, his eyes hooded and dark, locked on the hand she was touching herself with. She could just see the top of an impish smile dimpling his cheeks as his tongue started back up again.

The sight of him watching her got her close, so close.

“Please, Ted,” she whined.

He paused long enough to say, “Since you asked so nicely.” He pulled her other leg over his shoulder and pressed his tongue against her again. Rebecca’s hips bucked, Ted’s grip tightening so she could press herself closer, certainly remembering in that moment there was not another soul around for miles and she could be as loud as she wanted to be. Back arching, toes curling, she tensed hard before her body released, Ted riding the wave with her without letting go until she shuddered and stilled.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rebecca panted, her already damp hair wetter than it had been before.

Ted stood up, using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth as he tugged the pillow out from underneath her and tossed it away. Oops.

“Thank you,” he muttered, a little dazed sounding as he crawled into the center of the bed.

“Why are you thanking me after you just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life,” she laughed. “Thanking you isn’t enough, I should be awarding you the Nobel fucking Prize or something.” She slid into position next to him and kissed him, a little jolt going through her as she tasted herself on his lips.

“Is ‘fucking’ one of the categories of the Nobel Prizes?”

“If it isn’t, it should be,” Rebecca said, still breathless.

Ted brushed back some of the hair sticking to her face. “I said ‘thank you’ because getting to watch you was…well, it was just about enough to put me over the edge.” Ted started tracing lazy patterns across her bare skin, “How are you feelin’, sweetheart?”

“Give me one minute to stop seeing stars, and I’ll be ready for anything,” she grinned, already feeling that familiar ache starting to simmer low in her belly once more. “How are you, my love?”

“Oh, better after you just called me that,” he chuckled. “I won’t lie, I’m feelin’ a little nervous. See, past Ted would never have told you that, but I’m upholdin’ my promise to you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, kissing him again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Well…” He seemed a little flustered, “It’s been a long while since I’ve done this. Like, a really long while. And I’m already so keyed up…I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Rebecca traced the line of his jaw with her finger, then cupped her hand behind his ear. “First of all, let me remind you of 30 seconds ago when I said, without exaggeration, that you just gave me the best orgasm of my life.” He smiled at that. “But even if you hadn’t, the only way you’d disappoint me is if you weren’t honest with me, which, according to my notes, you just were, so there we are.” She pulled his face towards her own, kissing him deeply and slowly. “From here on out, I’ve decided every second we get to spend together is precious, so you tell me what you want to do.”

Ted pushed himself up onto one elbow, shifting until he was draped over her, and he looked down at her. “I want to be inside you. I want as little space between us as there can possibly be. I also want to make sure I don’t accidentally knock you up again.”

Rebecca barked a laugh at this. “I’m on the pill and there’s a condom in my bag, if you’d like to be extra careful.”

"Forgot to pack clothes, but she remembered a condom." Ted kissed all the lines around her smiling mouth before he got up to dig the condom out of her purse.

He paused at the edge of the bed to slide his joggers and boxers off. Her body pulsed at the sight of him, moisture already dripping from his cock. “Come here,” she gestured to him, “Let me do it.”

Ted returned to the center of the bed, dropping the condom wrapper into Rebecca’s open palm. She wrapped her other hand around the length of him, relishing in the drawn-out moan that he released as she did so. Wanting to make matters a little worse, she leaned down and took his tip into her mouth, her tongue circling around it just once. “Fuck, Rebecca,” he groaned. That noise was even more satisfying.

“Sorry,” she said as she unwrapped the condom, “Couldn’t help myself.”

She laid back down alongside him, and he rolled over, kneeing her legs apart to place himself in between them. Rebecca propped herself up and kissed him, her tongue dipping into his mouth. She pushed her hand down between them, Ted lifting his hips slightly, and gave him a couple of teasing strokes, relishing in the way he moaned against her lips, before she guided him into her.

He slid into her slowly, more for his own benefit than hers, she assumed, both of them gasping as their hips met. “I love you,” he whispered breathlessly as he held himself still, letting her orient herself to him. The fullness of him inside of her felt all the sweeter with those words on his lips.

“I love you,” she exhaled back, “I can’t believe this is real.”

Ted’s hips reeled back, his palm gliding along her thigh and gripping her hip as he pushed himself forward again. “Guess we better both start believin’ it,” he said, his voice breathy and quivering with pleasure.

Rebecca canted her hips as he rocked back into her, her nails scratching down his back, palming his ass, his hips, wanting to memorize every inch of him.

In the end, it didn’t take long. He tried to be slow and methodical, the way he’d been earlier, but his body clearly had other ideas.

His eyes were fluttering, his groans coming hard and fast. Rebecca clasped a hand around his jaw and said, “Keep your eyes on me, love, I want to see your face when you come.” This was apparently enough to pitch Ted over the edge, his lips forming her name as she clenched around him. She hummed with pleasure at the look on his face as his fingers tensed around her thigh, his body and breath rattling before he went limp, his weight pleasantly collapsing onto her.

Rebecca scratched his back appreciatively, savoring the warmth of his cock still buried in her. Ted seemed to come back to himself a little, dropping a clumsy kiss onto the corner of her mouth. “Was that okay?” he mumbled, a little drunkenly.

“You were perfect, love,” she said reassuringly, stroking back his hair.

Her free hand wandered down into the space where their bodies were still flush together, looking to relieve the heavy pressure there. Ted, realizing what she was trying to do, wiggled out of her way. “Want me to help you, or just watch?”

“Help is always appreciated, but not required,” she replied, her middle finger circling around her clit lazily.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up her still slick thighs, “I could watch you do this all day.” He pushed one, then a second finger into her, matching the pace of his movement to her's.

With Ted’s assistance, the feeling of her own wetness, and the memory of everything else she’d felt that night, this also didn’t take long. Rebecca hissed. She sank her teeth into his shoulder lightly and moaned. Every sensation broke across her at once, Ted’s fingers curling, her own pressing down harder against her clit until she fell apart, hips jerking, knees squeezing together.

She fell back on the bed, panting, sweaty, exhausted, indescribably satisfied.

Ted gathered her up in his arms and kissed her shoulder.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

“Should’ve waited to take a shower,” she laughed, “You made a mess of me.”

“A mess I’d be more than happy to clean up,” he replied. “A great benefit to having a bathroom that big is that there’s room enough for two.”

"If not a hundred," she added.

They re-emerged a short while later. Not as short as it could’ve been since Ted insisted on demonstrating the room’s great acoustics with “shower karaoke.” But they returned to the bed, clean and warm, Rebecca in Ted’s beloved Joe Arthur’s BBQ t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, suddenly feeling every minute of the night’s sleep she hadn’t had.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she whispered, her words thick and sluggish, into Ted’s chest, which her head was tucked into as they laid in the middle of the bed. “Bad things happened last time.” Sleepiness was apparently having a similar effect on her as drunkenness, loosening her inhibitions, compelling her to say whatever came to mind.

“Hey, look at me,” Ted said as he shifted, Rebecca forcing her tired eyes open to meet his gaze. He cradled her face with his hand. “This isn’t gonna be like last time, okay? Nothin’ bad is gonna happen.”

“It will,” Rebecca said, her jaw tightening as her eyes started to burn. “Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. I’ll leave, and you’ll stay here, and it’s going to hurt. It already hurts.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ted brushed away a tear rolling down her nose with his thumb. “This is a little bit of a pot callin’ the kettle black situation, I know, but try and focus on right now, not things that haven’t happened yet. Can you try to do that for me?”

He took her hand and held her palm flat against his chest. The gesture steadied her, grounded her. As she took deep breaths, her body began to give in to her exhaustion.

Ted’s voice was a soothing lull as he repeated over and over again, “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Ted woke to the sounds of birds chirping, the buzz of summer insects, and an empty bed. His heart lurched as he pushed himself up, but it stilled when he spotted Rebecca sitting on one of the balcony chairs, peacefully taking in the view.

She didn’t seem to notice him stirring, so he took a moment just to watch her. Her knees were drawn up beneath her chin, arms wrapped around her shins, a placid smile on her lips. She seemed to have her eyes fixed on the distant mountains, waiting for the sun to crest over them. His heart swelled with love for her.

He felt almost guilty when he stood up, the rustle of sheets and his popping joints making enough sound to break Rebecca out of her meditative spell. She turned to face him, her smile growing, and he said, “Mornin’, beautiful.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever woken up before you,” she said as Ted walked over and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“And on a scale of 1-10, how good do I look while I’m asleep?”

“Hm,” she pondered, “What number is 'mostly adorable but with a dash of Henry Fuseli?'”

Ted, having no idea who Henry Fuseli was, offered, “A seven?”

Rebecca smirked.

“Are you feelin’ alright this morning?” he asked delicately, not wanting to send her thoughts spinning out again.

“I’m taking your advice, focusing on the now,” she sighed. “It really is so beautiful here, Ted.”

“Yup, it’s a pretty dang perfect view,” he murmured in agreement, his eyes not leaving Rebecca. “Hey, I know we’ve got most of the day before Ellie and Keeley get here, so how about I make us some coffee and breakfast, and then I take you on a tour of the place?”

An hour later, they set out from the house. Rebecca was wearing the jeans and trainers she’d arrived in, but had borrowed one of Ted’s university t-shirts. The way she’d artfully tucked it in made it look like the height of fashion. Not to mention her ass looked great in the jeans.

He took her through the property, rattling off some facts but mostly a lot of anecdotes about the early years, trying to paint a picture of how different this place had been back then. They walked down to the stables, Rebecca smiling as she patted Doc Brown on the nose, telling him that she grew up riding and how Ellie loved horses, too.

“Wanna take ‘em for a ride? I’m sure they’d appreciate a chance to stretch their legs.”

Ted helped her saddle up Lt. Ellen Ripley and explained the basics to her since she’d never ridden Western before.

They did the rest of the tour on horseback, dismounting once they reached the warehouse. “I know this isn’t very exciting, but there is something I wanna show you in here.”

Ted took her on a winding path through the warehouse. It was a weekend, so there was only a skeleton crew of employees, but every time they passed someone, Ted made sure to chat with them and introduce Rebecca, somewhat awkwardly as he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. After the second time he stumbled over it, Rebecca leaned over to him and whispered, “It won’t hurt my feelings if you just stick to ‘friend’ for now.”

Eventually, he unlocked a door to a cavernous, cool, somewhat balmy room. There were floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with wine bottles. “This,” he gestured around, “is my private collection. Over here.” He jerked his head to the right and took her to a specific section. His eyes scanned the shelves until they fell on a specific bottle. He pulled it off the shelf and held it out to her, “This is pretty cool. Came from a collection that was hidden during Prohibition behind a plastered-up wall. It’s 150 years old. Probably would taste horrible, but it’d be worth about $100,000 on the market.” Ted pulled out a few of his other favorites. “I could show you this kinda crap all day—”

“Every bottle tells a story,” Rebecca said.

Ted beamed back at her. “There’s one collection I’ve got that outshines ‘em all.” He waved her over to a shelf that extended across an entire wall. “Now, this isn’t what collectors would call a rare wine, but to me it’s more precious than gold.”

Ted removed one of the bottles from the rack. In cursive across the label were the words ‘Where dreams have no end.’

“Ted…” Rebecca exhaled.

“Been buyin’ up the 1983 bottles for years. Confuses the heck outta my dealer because I’ve never explained why, but I’m sure you can guess.”

“It’s what you chose for us that first night, I remember.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“The wine was…well, let’s be honest, it’s just okay,” he chuckled, Rebecca joining him. “The company, though? Unforgettable.” Rebecca’s eyes were sparkling in the low light. “And, I remember you sayin’ you didn’t understand the slogan. I didn’t then, but now…it reminds me of us because I don’t think we have an end, either.”

Rebecca’s lips were on his in an instant. “You—” she said, “—are the most—” she paused to kiss him again, “—romantic arsehole—” and again, “—to ever live.”

“Thank you?” he said, smiling. “How about we take one of these to the best place on the vineyard and be a little…irresponsible?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

The horses broke through the line of trees onto the ridge overlooking the entire vineyard. They dismounted and walked to the edge, Ted with the bottle of wine and a corkscrew and tablecloth he’d stolen from the warehouse.

Throwing the tablecloth down on the ground, he held out his hand to help Rebecca sit. Ted sat behind her, pulling her practically into his lap so her back was resting against his chest, his arms comfortably around her ribs. In silence, they took in the sight before them.

“I see why this is your favorite place,” she said softly. “It’s so quiet.” There was no sound but the chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects, the wind rustling through the leaves.

Ted sighed into her neck, “You know…I’m startin’ to think my favorite place is anywhere you are.” Rebecca stilled. Ted, nervous he’d said something wrong, asked, “Y’okay?”

Rebecca wiggled out of his arms and turned around to face him, her expression a little unnervingly serious.

“Ted, do you remember the ship—”

“Considering what I just showed you in the wine cellar, I’d say, yeah, I remember the ship,” he laughed, hoping to lighten the look on her face.

“Let me finish, please,” she said, not annoyed, but in that way she did when she was fighting against her instincts to hide from something and any distraction might leave time for her to change her mind. “The night we went dancing. To get me to go, you said you’d owe me three favors.”

“And I seem to remember you using them to give me a blow job, which, in retrospect, is a very generous way to use favors I owed you.”

She cracked a smile at that.

“I only asked you to repay two of the favors. I never asked for the third.”

Ted had never really thought about it again. “I guess you’re right, but, Rebecca, I ain’t some genie in a lamp, there’s no numerical limit on favors. I’d do anything for you, all you have to do is ask.”

“Will you marry me?”

Ted blinked. It was almost like her lips had moved but there was a delay on the sound reaching his ears. “What?” he asked, stunned.

“You said all I needed to do was ask, so I’m asking. Will you, Ted Lasso, marry me?”

Ted’s mouth was dry. “I—”

“I know it’s crazy. It’s been less than a week since we came back into each other’s lives. I know you might think I’m just being irrational because I’m scared to live without you again. And I know we’ve got so much to work through, but you said we can work through it together. And our girls deserve to be with each other and with us, both of us. But most of all, Ted, I love you. I’ve wasted so much time already, and I don’t want to waste another second. And maybe it’s foolish and short-sighted and it won’t work out, but wouldn’t you rather have tried?”

“Yes,” he said, a smile breaking over his face. “Yes, Rebecca Welton, I’ll marry you.”

Chapter Text

June 1999

Rebecca was blissfully calm on the day of her wedding.

Throughout her life, she’d been told by many how nervous they’d felt on their big days, some to the point where it had ruined their enjoyment of the wedding itself. Others were so numb, they’d hardly felt a thing, which usually didn’t bode well for the subsequent marriage.

Perhaps it was because of the sheer volume of weddings she’d attended throughout her life, she’d had enough knowledge to plan her and Ted’s to a T.

Perhaps it was because they’d decided to keep it intimate, almost casual, so the expectations were more reasonable.

But actually, she knew it was because she had absolutely no doubts about marrying Ted. It was the simplest and easiest thing in the world, really. Her faith in that choice had only strengthened in the months that had passed since she’d impulsively proposed to him.

For a few hours afterwards, they’d let themselves be swept up in the romance of it. They celebrated by drinking wine directly from the bottle and Ted had made love to her on the spot. The latter had been a bit more romantic in theory than in practice. Ted digging out a seemingly endless number of rocks from beneath Rebecca’s back, Rebecca brushing an ant off Ted’s shoulder as he thrust into her, the discomfort of it leaving their backs and knees sore for days afterwards, but she wouldn’t change it for anything.

But then, they had to get down to brass tacks.

There were obviously glaring, unavoidable complications. They were each citizens of different countries, each ran a successful business in those respective countries, not to mention that any major change affected more people than just the two of them.

“Ugh,” Rebecca groaned, “It’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” Ted said as he attempted to massage the tension from her shoulders. “It’s pretty simple, actually. Carrie and I should move to London.”

“But Ted…Your life is here—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, because you, Caroline, and Penelope are my life.”

“Well, that’s true for me as well, so maybe Ellie and I should move here,” Rebecca pushed back. She gestured out towards the beautiful vista before them, “I mean look at what you’ve done here, Ted. You’d really just walk away from it?”

Ted sighed, his eyes taking in the view. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this place. I’m proud of what I’ve made here, but I’ve been feelin’ myself wanting to let go for a while. I just never had any idea where I’d land if I did, until now.”

Rebecca turned fully to face him, still unconvinced. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re not just saying it to be…kind or self-sacrificial or something?”

“I’m not. Scout’s honor.” Ted raised his hand in a salute and then swiped a thumb across her jaw, reminding her to relax the tension there. “You remember the story, right? This was never some lifelong dream, just something a grieving, desperate twenty-something threw himself into to find something to live for. There’s a whole lot more life out there for me than this, I think, and it’s time I started livin’ it. Besides, this place hardly needs me anymore. I can maintain ownership and pass the job of runnin’ it to someone who’ll be better at it than I ever was.”

“What about Carrie? Her school, her friends? How would Michelle feel about her daughter moving to a different continent?”

“I don’t wanna presume to know how Carrie would feel. Girls are very mysterious, after all. But one thing I know about Carrie is that all she’s ever wanted is a family. I’m sure she’ll miss her friends, but she’s the type of girl who makes friends with the person baggin’ groceries at the store.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Rebecca said, leaning into him.

“Friends can be found anywhere, family can’t.” Ted’s mouth pressed into a line. “As for Michelle…well, I don’t really think their relationship will change much with a few thousand more miles between them. The only way it’ll change is if Michelle does, and we can cross that bridge when and if we get to it.”

“Alright,” Rebecca said, satisfied with his argument. “I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to the mountains, though.”

“Dunno if you know this, but there’s plenty of mountains in the world we could go see.”

“True. But this place is special to you. And it will always be Carrie’s home. What if we came back here for a few weeks of the summer? Carrie could see her friends, you can check in on the business, and maybe, just maybe you can try and convince me to go camping.”

Ted whistled, “Boy, now there’s something I’d pay money to see.”

“Oh stop,” Rebecca snorted. “I could camp! I’m very rustic,” she asserted. “My family had a lovely rural cottage where we spent Christmas every year.”

“That sounds nice and quaint. Where was that?” Ted asked, his brows raised, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

“I don’t think that’s an important part of the story,” she said quickly.

“There’s not a thing about you that isn’t important to me,” he said as he nudged his shoulder against hers.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and conceded, “Fine. It was in Monaco, if you must know.”

Ted laughed. “A few weeks back here would be nice. I’m sure Carrie would appreciate it.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him. “So, how do you feel about suddenly becoming a mother of two almost-teenagers?”

“Terrified,” she admitted. “You?”

“I’m not sure which is scarier, two of them, or becoming a mother at my age,” he grinned at her.

“I feel better about it knowing I get to do it with you.”

“Ditto,” he replied.

Discussing the future with him like it was a certainty brought her more happiness than she ever could’ve imagined.

“So…about the wedding. I know I sprung it on you out of the blue, but any gut instincts about where and when?”

“Hm,” he hummed, “The first time I got married it—” He glanced over at her, “Is it okay if I talk about this?”

“There’s not a thing about you that isn’t important to me,” she said, echoing his words. “Even if it hurts a little,” she added truthfully.

Ted kissed her temple before continuing, “We got married in a church in Kansas. Not my first pick, not really my last, either, but it was important to Michelle for her parents’ sake. She was a real hometown girl, so practically everyone we grew up with was there. It was a huge crowd, but I dunno. It made me feel…lonely? Like she was more excited to be gettin’ married than she was to be gettin’ married to me.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Rebecca gave his hand a squeeze. Her face contorted into an apologetic smile. “Am I a bad person because it makes me feel a little bit better to know you hated your first wedding?”

Ted laughed, “I think a little schadenfreude just makes you human, fraulein.”

“Well, we could just do it tomorrow. Everyone important will be here.”

Ted sighed, “Almost everyone important. I don’t know about you, but I think my mother would haunt me for the rest of eternity if she wasn’t invited.”

“Do you want her there?” Rebecca asked, unsure about the specifics of their relationship.

“She can be a lot, but she’s alright in short bursts. And I’m worried I might regret it if she isn’t. I missed out on a life with one parent, I don’t want to intentionally shut out the other.”

Ted’s eyes widened suddenly.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

“I just realized she doesn’t even know about Ellie yet. Oh, she is gonna throw a fit about us movin’ to London,” he groaned.

“Hopefully it’ll be reassuring to her to know that my mother will dote on those girls enough for the both of them.”

“That’ll just make her jealous,” he replied. “What about you? Do you want your mother at our wedding?”

Rebecca looked off into the distance momentarily. “Yes,” she sighed, “We had an illuminating conversation just before I came here, as it happens. She’s part of the reason I’m here at all, actually, so I think it would make her happy to see me happy.”

“We could get ‘em both on a plane in the next couple of days?”

Rebecca laughed, “Despite what I just said, my mother pledged long ago to never set foot in this country. I’m not sure even my happiness outweighs that. She’s unbelievably stubborn.”

“So what should we do?”

“Hm. If you could get married anywhere on earth, where would you choose?”

Ted thought about it for a moment. “Disneyland.” And off Rebecca’s death glare, he said with a laugh, “Alright. If that’s not an option, what about…Tuscany?”

“Perfect,” she hummed pleasantly, lacing her fingers between his. “How about in early June? That’ll give us some time to get your visas and the move all sorted. And then we can send the girls to camp and have a long, long honeymoon.”

“And they say wedding plannin’ is hard,” he sighed contentedly.

“Ted,” Rebecca turned to face him, “Are you sure you want to do this? If it’s too much, too soon, you can tell me. ‘Just Oklahoma,’ remember?”

“I remember,” Ted said simply.

***

They weren’t able to escape long distance completely. Ted and Carrie stayed in California for the fall, as it was far too late in the summer to get Carrie transferred into a new school, especially internationally.

While it was less than ideal, it gave Ted time to get everything with the vineyard sorted out. He still came to London a couple of times as they navigated the complex immigration system. While they were technically short on some of the requirements for an engagement visa, the immigration officer seemed to think the fact that they shared a biological child was a good indication of their fidelity.

On one of these trips, he even brought his mother with him so she could officially meet her granddaughter.

The visit was a bit tense at first. Dottie Lasso was not as quick to forgive Rebecca for withholding the knowledge of Ellie’s existence as Ted had been, leading to some terse conversations between Dottie and Ted. But Ellie quickly melted her coldness away. As skeptical as she’d been at the beginning, just before she left, she pulled Rebecca aside and admitted that Rebecca seemed to be Ted’s missing puzzle piece, and how glad she was that they’d found each other, even if she was still a little angry it meant Ted and Carrie had abandoned her in the States.

Rebecca awaited their permanent arrival rather impatiently. Ted reassured her frequently that everything would fall into place just the way it was meant to be, and, the fucker, turned out to be right.

It was one week before Christmas when Carrie and Ted (and Roy, who had not-so-begrudgingly opted to return to the UK with them and carry on until Ellie and Carrie were old enough to look after themselves) officially arrived in London, this time to stay.

She couldn’t remember a happier Christmas. Carrie and Ted bravely battled jetlag and fatigue from moving to let Rebecca and Ellie play tour guide for London’s essential Christmas experiences. Seeing how enraptured they were by the Christmas markets and the lighting displays made Rebecca feel like she was seeing it herself for the very first time.

She invited Keeley and Roy to stay for the holiday, but Keeley had respectfully declined stating that her and Roy would be enjoying a solitary ‘Sexy Christmas’ together, an idea that Rebecca pocketed for some future Christmas they'd inevitably have to spend alone, but she wanted to soak up every moment of this one with Ted and their girls, plural. They spent the entire day in Christmas pajamas, opening gifts, watching holiday films and television specials. Ted cooked a delicious dinner, while Rebecca and the girls baked the ugliest cake she’d ever seen. Life was utterly perfect.

On New Year's Eve, they celebrated Ellie’s twelfth birthday and rang in the New Year, the first one they'd get to spend the entirety of together as a family.

It was chilly in the garden, but Rebecca hardly noticed.

New Year’s Eve in the past had been a complicated holiday. Usually, she’d spend the day with Ellie, taking her shopping and then to a nice dinner to celebrate her birthday. Ellie could never keep her eyes open past 10 PM. Some years Rebecca would just go to bed herself. In others, her mother would come spend the night so Rebecca could go out to some swanky party where she’d kiss the first man who caught her eye. Both had made her feel lonely in different ways.

This year though, things couldn’t be more different.

Carrie and Ellie were bravely fighting off exhaustion, a little loopy from all the sugar they’d been allowed to consume over the past week, but Rebecca could see them fading as the minutes crept closer to midnight.

Even Keeley and Roy had opted to stay until the year turned. Keeley had tried to persuade Ted and Rebecca to live a little and stay out all night with them, but they had mutually declined, bone-weary from their very full week.

As the radio announcer counted down the seconds to midnight, Ted’s arms were circled around her waist, the warmth of his body staving off the wintry chill.

“5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!” they all cheered in unison. There was a boom of fireworks echoing across the city, the pop of a cork from a champagne bottle Keeley held.

Ted pulled her closer to him, his lips finding hers in the semi-darkness. It was a long, deep kiss that made Carrie say, “Yuck,” and Ellie groan, “Stooooop.”

He broke off the kiss and turned to Ellie. “Oh, hush,” he said with a grin, “It’s not your birthday anymore, so I don’t have to do what you say.” He kissed Rebecca again, his palm pressing tightly against her lower back. The girls giggled and darted back inside, leaving the two couples swaying as Auld Lang Syne played over the radio.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” Ted murmured.

“I have a sneaking suspicion this might be the best one yet,” Rebecca replied, planting another kiss on his lips.

“I got you a little present,” he said, “Though I can’t take all the credit. Keeley and the girls helped me pick it out.” Rebecca glanced over to see Keeley eyeing her over Roy’s shoulder.

“Oh? Is it some American tradition to give a New Year’s gift?”

“Nah. Though it is a traditional gift of a different kind, I s’pose.” Ted dug one hand into his pocket and revealed a small velvet box.

“Oh,” Rebecca gasped, her heart fluttering a little.

“You spared me from the whole havin’ to get down on one knee thing, but I wanted to do my part.” He pushed the box open with his thumb, revealing a sparkling blue sapphire ring.

“Ted…it’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“I assume you still want to marry me? It’d be awfully awkward if you changed your mind now…”

“Of course I do.” He lifted her left hand and slid the ring onto her third finger. “Thank you,” she said, stretching her fingers out so they could both admire it on her hand.

“Don’t thank me. I’m just the lucky guy who gets to marry you.”

There was a high-pitched squeal from across the garden and suddenly Keeley’s arms were flung around both of them. “You two make me sick. I’m so happy for you I could just die.”

“That would rather kill the mood, don’t you think?” Rebecca said, smiling, and returned Keeley’s hug with one arm.

“I love you both to absolute fucking bits. Happy New Year, babes. Me and Roy need to get going before he changes his mind.”

“You two have fun. Be safe, alright?” Ted called out to Roy.

Roy grunted a response as Keeley took his hand in hers and dragged him away.

Rebecca circled her arms around Ted’s neck, pressing her body flush to his. “So, what are you most looking forward to this year?” she asked.

“What am I not looking forward to this year is a better question.” Ted pressed his forehead to hers. “But let’s see…Raisin’ our girls together is pretty high on the list. Livin’ here in London. For real this time. Since I’ll have some time on my hands, thought I might pick up the guitar again since you were kind enough to re-gift the guitar to me. And…hmmm…I think there’s something I’m forgettin'…” Rebecca pinched his side affectionately. “Oh yeah. Gettin’ to call you my wife.”

The word sent a shiver down her spine. “It’s still strange to think about myself as a wife, but I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

“I like the way it sounds when I say it, too.”

There were a few hiccups as they learned to integrate their lives. Carrie’s untidiness quickly became a source of irritation in Rebecca’s relatively smaller home. Rebecca could grin and bear it, gently encouraging Carrie to clean up after herself. Ellie had a harder time regulating her emotions, and it was this that led to the girls first proper sister-worthy screaming match.

Fortunately, this fight helped them figure out what was really going through each girl’s head.

While Ellie was overjoyed to have her sister and her father around, she was an introvert at heart. The house was a little crowded with four people in it making it much harder to find a minute alone. Most of the time, she was happy being attached to Carrie at the hip, but she needed a break from her from time to time, especially considering Carrie would prefer never to spend a second to herself. Ted and Rebecca encouraged Ellie to find healthy ways of communicating when she needed some space instead of only finding out she was overwhelmed once she broke down crying.

As for Carrie, her teachers reported that she was fitting in well at school, most of the time her and Ellie were thick as thieves, but after the heaving sobs from her fight with Ellie subsided, they finally helped her voice that she was feeling a bit stir crazy. Transitioning to city life had been hard on her. Carrie no longer had the forests, the mountains, her horse, and the unbroken silence of the place she’d grown up in.

Rebecca adored her townhome, but it was truly in the heart of one of earth’s largest cities. That evening, after the girls had calmed down enough to go to bed, she pulled Ted onto the sofa and curled into him. “Should we move?”

“Move? We just got here,” Ted said, wrapping an arm tightly around her.

“Not from the sofa,” Rebecca laughed, “From this house.”

“I promise I'm not tryin’ to be a smartass, but we did just get here, too.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t want it to feel like it belongs to Ellie and I, and not to you and Carrie.”

“Speakin’ for myself, I’m pretty sure I once told you I’d be happy wherever you are. Meant it then, mean it now. And Carrie…I think she just needs a little time. It’s a lot of change all at once.”

“I don’t want to be the reason she’s unhappy,” Rebecca sighed.

Ted kissed her temple and said, “‘Course you don’t, because you're a good mom. How about this…If she’s still feelin’ this way by the fall, we can talk about it again. Another big change right now might do more harm than good, anyway.”

“You’re a very good dad, my love,” Rebecca said, settling into him.

Now that they’d finally shaken off the countdown ticking away their time together, it gave them plenty of time to truly talk.

And they did. Often for hours on end, throughout the night, sometimes, about the good, the bad, and the ugly.

As happy as she was for the time they had together now, it also intensified her regret over all the lost years. They kept their promise to one another to not avoid talking about it, no matter how much they wanted to.

She learned Ted still suffered from panic attacks. He’d woken her up in the middle of the night, as she’d once long ago told him he should, his muscles tense, his breathing restricted. Rebecca had held him, and instinctively started talking to him about some obscure corner of fashion history in a gentle, lulling voice, periodically reminding him that what he was experiencing was temporary, until his body unwound, his breathing returning to normal.

The following morning, she woke up before Ted for once, making sure he had a glass of water and a scone waiting by the bedside for him.

After he returned from the toilet, he crawled back into bed, taking a sip of the water and a bite of the scone. “You take such good care of me,” he murmured. “Thank you, really.” Ted pulled her into him, nuzzling into her neck.

“It’s the least I can do, love. ...How often does that happen?” she added hesitantly.

Ted sighed, “Do we have to talk about this now?”

“I think we should. It’s awful to see you that way.”

“I’m sorry,” the apology rushed to his lips.

“You don’t need to apologize. This is what I’m signing up for. In sickness and in health, right? You’re hurting, Ted. I can’t take it from you, but I can help shoulder it. I want to help you.”

“You do. You help so much, you have no idea. I dunno how you know exactly what to do, but it pulls me back somehow.”

“I'm glad, but...Have you ever tried to figure out what’s really behind them?” Rebecca asked, not wanting to pry or at worst, somehow bring on another attack.

His fingers clawed into her side a bit harder. “Michelle and I did some marriage counseling. It uh…left a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well…” Ted said, his voice a little pinched. “What I got out of it was a hefty bill and a divorce settlement. What Michelle got out of it was a new boyfriend.”

“Really?” Rebecca said, quite shocked by this information. “Isn’t that…illegal? Or unethical? Or something?”

“Oh, almost certainly,” Ted laughed sardonically. “It’s more than just that, though. I know things are different now than they used to be when it comes to all this stuff,” he waved his hand around his head, “But seein’ what happened with my dad…In my hometown, there was no problem they didn’t think a little prayer couldn’t fix. People talked about Valium like it was the devil’s drug.” Ted’s voice fractured a bit as the words poured out. “I-I overheard him one night tellin’ my mom that our family doctor had told him the way he was talkin’ was gonna be a one way ticket to the Psych Ward if he wasn’t careful.” Ted brushed a tear out of his eye.

“Ted, I’m so sorry.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around him. “It’s not going to be like that for you.” She kissed his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “For what it’s worth,” she said with a light smile, “People in London love drugs.” A deep, resonant laugh emerged from Ted’s belly. Rebecca was so fond of how it made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Alright. I can try talkin’ to someone. For you.”

“No, Ted,” she said, her fingers wrapping around his cheek and turning his head to face her. “For you.”

By the time June rolled around, Rebecca realized what a fool she’d been for getting so close to marrying Luca. This, she thought, was what it was supposed to feel like.

Though Rebecca moved through the world with confidence, she wasn’t sure she’d ever known something to feel so right. It was as though every decision she’d ever made, the good and the painful ones, had led her to this exact moment. Even grief is a joy in time.

There was no doubt in her heart that Ted felt precisely the same way because he told her, he showed her, frequently.

They finally knew exactly where they stood.

Rebecca tried her hardest not to wish away the time because every second was utterly precious, but she was practically buzzing with anticipation for the wedding.

They got married, legally speaking, a week before they set out for Italy. It was a simple affair. Just Ted and Rebecca signing some papers at the courthouse. They’d tried to maintain a casualness around it, like nothing had really changed, but that night when Ted’s weight was pressed into her, filling every inch of her, he whispered “my wife,” against her neck like it was a secret, and it had made her heart swell so much, she thought it might burst.

Ted was beside himself with excitement to finally, after 45 years, set foot in Italy. They’d chosen it as their honeymoon destination as well, planning to spend the six weeks the girls were at camp traveling through the country at their leisure.

When they arrived at the Tuscan villa they’d rented for the occasion, Rebecca was relieved to find that it was perfect. Notched into a high hill, it had the same solitude as Ted’s vineyard. Not a road or another house in sight, only the green valley and hills beyond, the golden haze of summer glittering in the sunlight.

The day before the ceremony, it rained from dawn to dusk, forcing them all to start thinking about moving the wedding indoors.

The night before, she and Ted thought it would be romantic to lean into one marital tradition and spend the night separately. Rebecca, fortunately, easily fell into sleep, sandwiched happily between her daughters.

When her eyes blinked open the next morning, they were greeted by unfiltered sunlight. The previous day’s rain had washed away the rising heat and left in its wake perhaps the most perfect weather Rebecca had ever seen.

Rebecca only felt herself grow more calm as the day progressed. Both mothers were on their best behavior. Keeley had insisted on taking the role of wedding planner, enlisting Roy and the girls to help her, so Rebecca and Ted had nothing to think about except one another.

It was as though everything was falling into place, just the way it was always meant to be. Exactly as Ted had said it would.

She chose to leave her hair down, loosely waved, knowing Ted liked it that way (even though he complimented her equally as much when she wore it in any other style). Her dress was a soft cream color, form-fitting but comfortable with a skirt that came to just below her knee.

There wasn’t really an aisle to walk down, but she emerged out of the villa’s front door into the golden light of the courtyard.

The guitarist they’d hired plucked out Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird (Ted’s choice) as she approached him. Ted looked dashing in a tan linen suit, but it was the expression on his face that just about bowled her over. The dimples in his cheeks, the tears brimming in his eyes, the contented smile on his lips. She never wanted to forget it as long as she lived.

When Rebecca reached him, she passed her bouquet of flowers to Keeley, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she did so. Ted took her hands in his and pressed his forehead to hers as the song transitioned into another.

He looked out over the small crowd and said, “Thank you all for being here. You may have noticed we opted out of having an officiant. We considered Keeley for the job, but thought she might cry too much.” Everyone turned their head to Keeley who was in fact using a handkerchief to dab at her already falling tears. “And then we thought about Roy, but we wouldn’t be standing here today because he probably would’ve killed us for asking him to speak in front of a crowd.” Roy lifted his eyebrows, smirking lightly as he nodded. Rebecca could’ve sworn he looked a little misty-eyed himself. “So, we’re gonna keep this pretty short and sweet because, well, technically, we’re already married.” Rebecca smiled up at him. “But we’ve got a few words we’d like to say to each other, so, Rebecca?”

Nerves fluttered lightly in her stomach. She looked up into Ted’s warm eyes, flecked with amber in the sun, and he gave her an encouraging nod.

“Ted, my love,” she began, already feeling the burning of tears, “We’ve done it all a bit backwards, haven’t we?” He chuckled, squeezing her hands. “But our timing has always been…unusual, so if it had been an ordinary love story, it wouldn’t be ours, I think.” Ted’s smile softened, his eyes growing watery. “When we first met, I, ever the romantic, told you that I didn’t believe in love, real love. But I think that’s because I hadn’t met you yet.” Rebecca sniffed. “For a long time, I was afraid, so I ran away, but even that just led me right back to you. I thought that fear was bravery, but it wasn’t.” Rebecca glanced over to her mother who smiled back at her. “I know that now because you’ve made me brave, Ted Lasso. Brave enough to say ‘I love you’, brave enough to marry you, even. Brave enough to raise those two girls. Brave enough to face whatever comes because I have you by my side. I love you, Ted. Today. Twelve years ago. Forever.”

Rebecca raised her hand to his face and brushed away the tears from his cheek.

“I dunno why I agreed to g-go second,” he sniffled. Rebecca laughed.

She really didn’t even need him to say anything. She knew.

Ted took a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath before he began, “Rebecca, you make me feel like the luckiest man in the world every single day. In fact, I think we all feel pretty lucky to have you in our lives—as a best friend, as a daughter, as a mom, as a soon-to-be wife. Right, folks?” The small crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers at this. This broke the dam of her tears, and they began falling freely. “There is a quote I wanted to read.” Ted tugged a little piece of paper out of his pocket. “This is from A Room With a View. I know it’s a little corny, but considerin’ we’re in Italy, and it’s Rebecca’s favorite book, I thought it was fitting.” Ted cleared his throat and read, “‘When I think what life is, and how seldom love is answered by love–Marry him; it is one of the moments for which the world was made.’”

“Ted…” Rebecca breathed, her chest tightening.

Ted wasn’t holding back his tears anymore either. “I've always called it luck because I couldn't figure out a better way to put it. But I think ‘luck’ leaves too much to chance, and what we have is more than just chance. I think...I think this world made us for each other. I love you, Rebecca. I will always love you because it’s what I was made for, and I don't know how to do anything else.”

Rebecca knew she wasn’t supposed to kiss him yet, but she’d never wanted to more in her life. So she did it anyway.

Ted laughed, she felt it rumble in his chest as she pressed her mouth to his.

“It’s the bad timing thing,” she mumbled into his lips.

“Girls?” Ted called over to Ellie and Carrie, who jumped up from their seats. Both opened a velvet box, each containing a wedding band. Ted turned out to the crowd again and said, “For this part, we thought we might do something a little different. We each wrote a little vow we’d like the other to make with these here rings. Neither of us have read these either, so...I guess it's also a bit of a trust fall."

Ted pulled a scrap of paper from his other pocket and handed it to her.

Rebecca unfolded it and began to read, her hand trembling lightly. “With this ring, I, Rebecca, promise to remember every day that Theodore Lasso is my heart’s biggest defender.” She had to pause for a long moment, her eyes blurring up with tears too much to even read the paper. “With this ring, I, Rebecca, promise to try and remember that I am a generous, funny, creative, confident, intelligent, sexy, tall person, and a wonderful mother, and that even when I’m not feeling like any of those things, except for being very sexy and tall because I cannot change that, I promise to remember that Theodore Lasso will love me anyway. And with this ring, I, Rebecca, promise to love Theodore Lasso in return for as long as my heart will have him.” Reaching the end of his note, Rebecca looked up to Ted and added, “I promise.” Rebecca slid the ring over Ted’s finger.

Rebecca opened Ted’s ring box and took a folded square of paper out of it, handing it to Ted. He cleared his throat and said, “With this ring, I, Ted, promise to Rebecca that I will never stop making her laugh, no matter how stupid she claims to find my jokes. I promise to be her loving, rational, supportive partner in raising our two beautiful daughters. And while I promise to be as compassionate and giving a husband and father as I naturally am, I promise…” his words drifted off as his eyes got ahead of his mouth. He cleared his throat, “I promise I won’t give so much away that I forget to leave some for myself.” His eyes flicked up to Rebecca and she returned his look with a nod of encouragement. “I, Ted Lasso, promise to find Rebecca no matter how much time or distance may try to get between me and her. And if there are lifetimes after this one, I promise to find her there, too.”

Ted took Rebecca’s hand in his and placed the ring on her finger, before he lifted it to his lips and planted a kiss there too.

“Then I guess that means we did the damn thing. You kinda jumped the gun, but you can kiss me again if you’d—”

Rebecca cut him off with a passionate kiss. Ted wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, his other hand between her shoulders as he dipped her. Behind them, the small audience cheered and the trio of musicians broke out into song. Ellie and Carrie started chucking flower petals they’d apparently stuffed in their pockets into the air, and they fluttered around the courtyard like miraculous summer snow.

They ate a perfect dinner, and danced the evening away beneath a curtain of fairy lights and the twinkling stars.

Each of them shared at least one dance with everyone else. Eventually, they made their way back to one another’s arms as they always did.

“Today is perfect,” Ted murmured into her neck, “I don’t want it to end.”

“It won’t.” Rebecca splayed her fingers across the nape of his neck, tilting his head up so she could press a gentle kiss to his lips. “It’s only just beginning.”