Page 180 of The Home Grown
“What? Is it so wrong of me to want to come home and spend a little alone time with my wife?”
Ellie extends her arm out and places her hand, palm up, on my leg instead.
“A handy?” I ask. “I mean … it may be a little dangerous, but I’m willing to let you?—”
“No, silly. Hold my hand,” she says. “I’ve missed you.”
And I do, because having her hand in mine sends a warmth from the tips of my fingers through every cell in my body.
I’m home.
“We can have our time later, I promise. Just … everyone is really proud of you, Mike. They want to celebrate.”
I nod. I understand. I mean, it’s not ideal … but I understand.
“It’s not every week you win the playoffs and a promotion to the top flight of the World Championship. Maybe you should be less successful,” Ellie says with a mock frown.
“Well, yeah, but I can’t really help it…”
“Besides,” she says. “We need to tell your parents we’re moving in together.”
Ellie squeezes my hand, and I spin my head in her direction, watching her grin intensify.
“You’ve figured things out? With work and your place?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’ll take a bit of time to get in a good place with work, and I’ve committed to being back here for a day a week—I mean, it’s a good trade-off.” She glances in my direction before settling her attention back on the road. “Vicky said she knows someone who can help grow my reputation, anyway. It’s worth a try.”
“And Jessica’s agreed to rent your house?”
“Yep. Well, it turned into more of a beg, to be honest. Her begging me. She’s come to an agreement with Phil … she wants to move in as soon as possible.”
God, I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.
“Did she call Greer yet?” I ask.
Ellie shakes her head. “She won’t even talk about it. Ever since we got home, she’s been … weird. I don’t know, but she’s desperate to move out so…”
I blow out a breath. “Well, I guess we’ll never find out. But it’ll be good for her to start fresh. And what did your parents say?” I ask.
It’s a leading question—one I’m not sure she’ll want to answer, but she sighs and glances in my direction before she replies.
“They—well, my mam, said she’s happy that I’m happy.”
“That’s it?” I say. “That’s all she had to say?”
“What else were you expecting?” she asks, looking towards be briefly.
“I dunno—maybe … something? I guess I was hoping your mam and dad would … care a bit more?”
“I’m surprised you’re surprised,” she says.
“Yeah but?—”
“I think they’re just worried about Kathryn. And that’s fine. She needs more support—and I think it’s obvious that it’s been this way for a long time.”
I cringe at the mention of Kathryn’s name. But only because I feel a little sorry for Langer. Not because he was the ‘other guy’, but more because he believed Kathryn. We caught up properly in Romania, and he told me all about their plans—the ones he made with Kathryn and her promise to leave Greg. More fool him, really—but I guess you can’t help who you fall in love with. They just went about it all the wrong way.
I’m just really fucking glad I got lucky with it.
Eventually.
I reach into the pocket of my hoodie, pulling the Polaroid out—the one Ellie gave me before I flew to Romania with Team GB—the one I’ve carried withme ever since.
I glance at it, wondering what the eighteen-year-old Bettsy would say about this moment—how he’d feel, knowing he got everything he ever wanted?
“I guess we can start looking for a place then, Kitch,” I say, slipping the picture back into my pocket.
“Yeah. You’re stuck with me now,” she says.
“I’ve always been stuck with you,” I say, turning to look at Ellie. “It just took us forever to figure it out.”
