Page 170 of Off the Pitch

David made a squeaky noise and smiled, looking at me like I was some sort of baby panda he’d see on Reddit. “You two are fucking adorable. You know that, right?”

“I try,” I said, running through my mental checklist to see if I had everything. “By the way, did you and Christian want to come over for dinner tomorrow? I found a recipe for bouillabaisse I wanted to try.”

“Sounds perfect. We’ll bring pudding. Do you want more profiteroles?”

David and I chatted for a little longer while I pottered around the kitchen, retrieving the crackers from their hiding place, digging out some cheese knives, washing some grapes, and slicing some figs into little bowls before arranging the cheese on the platter, leaving everything wrapped. I’d debated making the full thing up early, but I didn’t want the unwrapped cheeses sitting around for a couple of hours. Mostly because I’d be tempted to eat them. At least if I had everything ready to go, I’d be able to assemble it at a moment’s notice.

When David finally left, after more hugs and the promise to bring a chocolate-based pudding tomorrow, I made myself a cup of tea and curled up on the sofa. I reckoned I had about twenty or thirty minutes before Hugo got home, which was enough time to sneak in some French practice.

One of my, secret, new year’s goals had been to teach myself French. Hugo had mentioned over Christmas that he was a little out of practice. He’d been chatting with his mum, and after he’d gotten off the phone, he’d laughed and shaken his head, saying he’d found it harder than he’d expected. These days he only really spoke French with his parents and occasionally Micah. It hadn’t seemed to bother him at first, but later he’d admitted it was hard because he felt like he was losing a part of himself.

As soon as he’d said that, I’d decided I’d teach myself so we could practice together and use it as much as he wanted. I thought it would be fun. Besides, none of our close friends spoke French, so it would almost be like we had a secret language of our own!

I’d done some basic French at school, and I hadn’t thought it would be too hard to pick it up again. Unfortunately, I hadn’t realised my brain had thrown out everything I’d learnt and replaced it with useless information about business plans and offsetting costs instead.

To restore my knowledge, I’d dutifully downloaded Duolingo and now lived at the mercy of a small, green owl who ruthlessly tormented me. So far, my French extended to asking for a ticket, some basic colours, and ordering a fish sandwich. Not exactly enough to have a riveting conversation with my better half. Still, as David would say, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I figured if I kept practicing for long enough, I’d eventually be able to speak an adequate amount of French or at least, enough to be able to hold a basic conversation about cheese with my beloved.

I’d decided not to tell Hugo about my goal. I wanted it to be a fabulous surprise I could reveal when the moment was right. In my head, it was a dramatic scene that included Hugo being stunned by my language prowess and then sweeping me off my feet and kissing me senseless.

Apparently, my imagination had indulged in one too many romantic fantasies. Not that I was going to stop it.

I took a sip of my tea and opened the app, loading up my first lesson of the day. The little green owl waved at me and then gasped at me as I began muddling my way through the session in the Activities lesson. I’d been amused to discover that the French for football was simplyle football, but at least it meant I wasn’t likely to get confused.

“Nous avons un chien,” I muttered, tapping the suggested word blocks to form a translation. “We have a dog. That doesn’t really feel like an activity.” The app dinged and flashed green as I hit the Check button. I smiled to myself. “Nous mangeons une pizza… We are eating pizza.”

I made it through the lesson without any errors for once, then looked up because I could have sworn I’d heard a car in the driveway. I listened again but heard nothing, so I assumed it was my imagination and turned back to the app, wondering what new ridiculous sentences it would concoct for me.

“La musique… Music. Nous aimons Duo… We like Duo. That feels a little self-congratulatory,” I muttered. “J’aime la France… I like France.”

“Oui, j’aime la France.” Hugo’s voice sounded softly in my ear. I screeched in shock and practically jumped six feet in the air, nearly throwing my phone across the room in the process. Hugo chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my head. “Surprise.”

“I’m going to get you a cat bell!” I cried, clutching my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, mon coeur. I didn’t want to disturb you. I didn’t know you were learning French. You sound good.” He kissed my temple again, and I twisted in my seat to look him in the eye.

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” I said mournfully. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I see.” Hugo stood from where he’d been crouched behind the sofa and walked around to sit next to me, pulling me into his side. “I’m sorry to ruin your surprise.”

“I forgive you.” I tilted my head up, my lips meeting his in a deep kiss.

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked, his mouth mere millimetres from mine.

“I don’t know. When I could say more than ‘We have a cat’ and ‘A table for two’ I think.” I chuckled. “I hadn’t really thought it through.”

“You’re adorable,” Hugo said, kissing me again. There was heat behind his kiss, and I couldn’t help the light sigh that escaped me. I loved every single one of Hugo’s kisses—the soft, sleepy ones he gave me first thing in the morning when both of us were only half-awake, the quick ones he gave me before he left for training or matches, snatched from my lips while he was halfway out the door, the deep ones full of love that let me know just how much he adored me, the heated ones that promised so much more and often lead to the shedding of clothes and the desperate press of skin to skin.

“I love you so much.” His fingers caressed my cheek. “You’re incredible.”

“I love you too.” I smiled, my face heating at his words. Hugo was forever heaping praise on me, and I wasn’t convinced I always deserved all of it. After all, he was equally wonderful. “And so are you.”

“No. It’s you. I can’t believe you’re learning French for me.”

“Well, you said you missed it, so I thought if I learnt, we could speak it together. Then you wouldn’t be so out of practice. Although, I have to admit it might take me a while to be fluent. But the Duolingo owl is a hard taskmaster, so I’ll get there.”

Hugo chuckled. “I’ll help you too. And I’ll give you rewards.”

“Oh? What sort of rewards are we talking about?”

---