Page 93 of Dominate
And possibly even more gorgeous than she was yesterday.
I cup the back of her head and press my forehead to hers. “I love you.” My words are simple because it’s all I can think to say right now. The adrenaline of the game consuming all of my good sense.
She holds my face in her hands and kisses me chastely on the lips. “I love you, too. I’m so proud of you.”
She laughs and tucks under my arm as we turn toward my family, and Vi all but assaults me with a slightly terrified Rocky in her arms.
“You brothers of mine! You crazy, insane brothers of mine!” she cries, wrapping everyone into a large group hug. “I love you all. And there’s one thing that I know for certain: Mum is smiling down at all four of you crazy, wonderful, ridiculous, and incredible Harris Brothers!”
1 Year Later
THE IMAGE OFSLOAN,SOPHIA, and our new son walking out onto the Old Trafford pitch is an image I want to remember forever. The fans’ cheers are unrelenting as I embrace my family during my final moments on this beautiful pitch.
Milo is only four weeks old, and he’s nestled into Sloan as she wraps her free arm around me. He’s kitted out in red Man U gear to match his mum and his big sister. Sloan pulls back and has tears in her eyes as I lift Sophia up into my arms and pat the Harris name on her back that belongs to her now as well.
The past year hasn’t been easy. Sloan and I were married shortly after the World Cup and were blessed with a pregnancy soon after. We thought our life was going to be full of incredible highlights until my retirement. But once we were married, Callum quit showing up for Sophia entirely. No calls, no emails. Nothing.
We tried our best to protect Sophia from that reality. We gave her excuses for Callum’s absence, but after several months, Sophia started to catch on. Then one night, while nuzzled up closely and watching a recording of Camden’s match from the night before, Sophia looked up and asked me why I couldn’t be her real dad.
I thought she was asking me about the birds and the bees since we had only recently told her about Sloan’s pregnancy. I started muttering things about love and our bodies, but she cut me off and asked why she couldn’t be a Harris. It was a simple question that inspired me to do something about it.
I discussed my thoughts with Sloan and we quickly put Santino to work to see if this could even be possible. There were a lot of talks with Callum’s lawyer. And following the exchange of some hefty funds, Callum voluntarily terminated his rights as a father to Sophia.
Four weeks later, we put pen to paper to make Sophia mine, both in heart and in surname. It was the most special day of my life.
Then Milo was born and I thought that was the most special day of my life.
But staring at them here with me on the Old Trafford pitch with seventy-five thousand fans chanting “Harris” all around us, I think this might be the most special day of my life.
I lower Sophia to the ground and press my lips to the tiny, delicate hand of our boy, Milo, who came two weeks early and had me sprinting into the hospital in my football kit to make it in time for his birth. Sophia was cross for not getting a sister, but to our delighted amusement, she informed us that we can try again next year.
Sounds like a great idea.
The rest of my family joins us on the pitch next, along with my cousin Alice Harris who’s visiting from America for the big match. Tonight was a testimonial match put on by Man U strictly to honour my service to the team, so it’s entirely a family affair.
Booker has both his one-year-old boys in his arms as Poppy trails behind him with a big smile. Rocky is running circles on the pitch, eating up the crowd’s attention. Vi has a large bouquet of white roses in her hands as she’s followed closely by Hayden, Camden, Indie, Tanner, and Belle.
I look over at my father to see how he’s holding up, amazed that he’s standing here at all. He bends down and scoops Rocky up into his arms, his eyes glossing over as he takes in the stadium and smiles with pride.
A microphone is suddenly passed over to me. The crowd instantly dies down, their voices magically muting to prepare for the words I’m about to say. Holding onto Sophia’s hand, I clear my throat and attempt to find the words I want to convey on such a special day.
“First, I’d like to thank you all for being here for my farewell to Manchester United and the sport of football.”
The crowd erupts into cheers, a faint chanting of “Harris” echoing over at the Stretford End. When they quiet down again, I continue. “Before I say anything else, I’d like to take a minute to honour a family member who isn’t here with us today.”
I turn to Vi and she nods. She pulls six long-stemmed roses out of the bouquet. Then she hands the remainder back to Hayden and passes a rose out to our three brothers, Dad, and me, and keeps one for herself.
“Our mother was taken from us far too soon, but no one was a bigger Manchester United fan than her. So, Mum, these are for you.”
I hand the microphone to Sloan, grab hold of the flower, and gently pull the petals off the stem. I hold my hand out high and slowly sprinkle them down onto the grass. My brothers and Vi move to stand beside me in a long row and do the same.
With shaky legs, Dad walks over to stand beside me and helps Rocky peel one petal off at a time. The two watch the petals sway down to the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the large stadium screen filled with a close-up of the long row of white petals on top of the lush green pitch.
It’s an image I want to remember forever.
The crowd quiets for a moment of silence, and I hear Dad sniffling beside me. I wrap my arm around him and we squeeze each other for comfort. He never got his goodbye with this team, so this moment is just as much his as it is mine. I look him in the eyes for a long while and I swear he can hear my thoughts.
We’ve both truly come a long way with each other in the past year. Becoming a father myself has shed so much light on all that he must have felt when he lost Mum. And in many ways, what Sloan and I have now is what he and my mum never had a chance to be. This moment on this pitch—this experience with our family—belongs to him.
