Page 222 of Off the Pitch

“Only if you promise not to drop it on the floor and get it stuck to the carpet.” Jordan leant over her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No amount of magic will get rid of that.”

“Promise.” Mia scooped the slime out of the bowl, a gleeful smile on her face as she disappeared out of the kitchen again.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Jordan sighed. “I’m gonna end up picking glitter out of the fucking carpet, aren’t I?”

“Do I need to remind you to put money in the jar?” I teased, sitting back in my chair while Jordan flipped me off and began rooting around in the fridge and pulling out various tubs Ant had left us. “Don’t be rude.”

“Being rude to you doesn’t count,” he said, ignoring my raised eyebrow and the smirk on my face.

“Oh really? I could make it count.” I watched Jordan from my seat, my eyes raking over his body. I could have so much fun with him. “Do you want a hand?” I asked, as Jordan laid out a series of tubs and opened them, trying to work out what was in each one.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said. He stuck his finger in one of the tubs, tasting the sauce. “I think this one is for Mia. And I think this one is for us. Ant usually makes one a bit less spicy for her.” He dipped his finger in the other. “Yeah, I think this one is ours.”

Ours. I liked the way that sounded. It wrapped itself around my heart, bathing me in warmth. I’d never thought about being anusor anoursbefore. I’d never thought I’d wanted to be one. But if it was with Jordan, I thought I’d like that.

In fact, I knew I would.

It was one of those rare, insignificant moments of clarity, when everything was crystal clear, like sunlight shining through fog. If I could have a future with Jordan, I’d take it in a heartbeat.

I had fears. It would be stupid if I didn’t. Was I too old for him? Could I give him everything he wanted? I wasn’t sure if Jordan was the marriage and babies type of guy, and since he was only twenty-three, I didn’t expect him to know for certain. I’d gotten this far without an interest in either, and I was happy enough to continue that way. I liked being an uncle. It gave me the fun part of having children without the responsibility. Then again, I’d never considered being with anyone long enough for children to become a talking point.

I wondered if the age difference bothered him. Fifteen years was a long time, although we weren’t the only couple I knew with such a large age gap. Just thinking of us as a couple had my heart racing. Technically, we hadn’t even had a conversation about whether we were dating or not.

The sound of a ringtone cut through my thoughts, startling me back to life. I didn’t know anyone who still had their phone on anything but silent.

“Ah shit,” Jordan said. “Can you stick those in the oven?” He pointed to two oven dishes on the side while rubbing his hands on his joggers and grabbing his phone off the table. I assumed it was Isaac or Sarah phoning to check in on Mia, but when I looked at Jordan’s expression, I knew it wasn’t.

He looked shocked, disbelief etched onto his face. He barely spoke as he leant against the kitchen doorframe and nodded occasionally, making little noises of agreement. I’d never seen him so quiet. He chewed his lip, listening intently to whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

I placed the dishes in the oven, trying to keep to the other side of the large kitchen because I didn’t want to appear nosey, even if Idesperatelywanted to know what was going on. I’d always been a sucker for interesting gossip. It was one of my worst habits.

“Everything okay?” I asked, as he ended the call. Jordan was staring at his phone, his mouth slightly open in shock.

He nodded, then cleared his throat. “That, um, that was Nigel Grant, the England manager. I made the squad… I’m going to the World Cup.”

Chapter Twenty-One

#timetokeepyourpromises #facedownassup

Jordan

Everything went a little bit bonkers after I got off the phone, and I didn’t have a chance to process any of it until later.

Félix’s expression after I told him I’d made the team was something I’d never forget. Pride and passion were clear on his face as he wrapped me in his arms and squeezed me tight, whispering how proud he was as he pressed a quick kiss to my lips that promised so much more.

Telling Mia had been very different. Mostly because it hadn’t been as interesting to her as the slime she’d been playing with. She’d told me it was cool, and then asked if it was nearly teatime. I swore she broke my heart more than any girl I’d ever known.

Dad’s and Sarah’s reactions had nearly deafened me. They’d come to pick Mia up after dinner on their way home, and even though I’d thought about trying to keep it a secret, the words had fallen out of my mouth as soon as I’d opened the front door. They’d both screamed and pulled me into crushing hugs while leaping up and down. Dad had even cried, telling me over and over how proud he was of me.

“You can’t tell anyone though,” I’d said, gasping the words out while Dad squeezed me so tightly I thought my ribs were going to break. That would be a fucking mood killer. “They’re not making the announcement until Saturday. You gotta be cool, Dad.”

“Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll be cool.” I didn’t believe him, but it was okay.

I was still slightly numb. The shock hadn’t quite worn off, and the news hadn’t sunk in. My brain was struggling to process the idea that I’d made the England World Cup squad.

It wasn’t like I didn’t think I was going to. I’d never doubted myself. But fantasy and reality were two different things. I’d dreamed about this moment for so long my brain was worried it was just another fantasy. That it couldn’t possibly be true, even though I knew it was.

“How’re you feeling?” Félix asked, as the front door closed behind my family. The chaos had actually worked in his favour, because although he’d briefly met Dad and Sarah in passing before, tonight neither of them had been interested in asking any probing questions about his presence. Mostly because they were both doing an impression of a giant squid on my ribcage.

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