Chapter Text
December 21
Rebecca loved how easy it was to have Ted in her bed, in her house early in the morning, his suit hanging on her closet door. It had the tingling electricity of newness, his presence, the smell of his cologne on her pillow, his stubble under her hand, but at the same time, it felt painfully familiar, like they’d done this in a past life, in several past lives.
She got up before him the next morning, standing in her silent kitchen, the floor cold beneath her feet, and realized that the whole house felt different with him in it, even when he was on the other side of the house. Even when he was asleep, he wrapped himself around her in essence and everything else.
She felt bizarrely protected.
She made her tea like she usually did, smiling through every little deviation that she took to make Ted a coffee at the same time. The balls of her feet were still a little sore, as if the rest she’d gotten while she slept had revived everything but that one spot.
She remembered Ted kneeling in front of her, his hand around her ankle, his eyes on hers.
I will gladly make everything fun for you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me, in whatever capacity.
Just thinking about it made her heart pound heavily in her chest. It wasn’t even a question, the way he said it. It was a promise, a reminder. And, now that she was thinking on it a second time, she wasn’t remotely surprised by it. It just seemed logical, that Ted would be in her life forever.
Still, it calmed an unsettled, soft, cynical part of her, knowing that he felt the same way.
Now she just had to make sure she didn’t mess it up.
“Well now, ain’t this a picture,” Ted’s voice startled her out of her reverie. His arms fit gently around her waist, chin on her shoulder. He smelled like her shower. “Didn’t mean to interrupt ya. What were you thinkin’ about?”
She passed him his coffee, giving him a nonchalant shrug. “How many Christmas gifts have you bought me?” she deflected.
He brought the coffee up to his nose and sniffed, sighing happily before he took a sip, his hair wet from his shower, ensconced in one of Rebecca’s fluffier robes. “That’s a secret only Santa can torture out of me, honey bunch,” he said. “You’ll just have to wait a few more days.”
“Ted,” she whined. “I want to make sure I have the same amount of gifts for you.”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
She blinked, momentarily at a loss. “Well, it - it should be equal, shouldn’t it?” she asked. “That way neither one of us feels like the other one put more of an effort in? Though I suppose you did plan out all of these days and I planned all of two -”
“Whoa, there,” he interrupted. “Now just a second, Christmas isn’t a transaction, no matter how many credit cards we max out, alright?” He set his coffee cup aside, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chest against her back, walking her over to her cup of tea, holding on while she took a sip. “The number of gifts doesn’t matter, who did more doesn’t matter because no one is keepin’ score.”
She sighed, taking a sip of her tea. It would be impossible to explain to him that she wanted to give him anything, everything he wanted, but she also wanted to make sure he didn’t think she was trying to spoil him on purpose. How many times had her mother gotten her three gifts when Rebecca bought her two and turned it into an ordeal? How many times had she bought gifts for Rupert and received nothing in return?
“At least, no one should be keepin’ score,” he amended. “Doin’ this for you makes me happy. And so does givin’ you presents.”
She set the cup down. “Giving you presents makes me happy too,” she admitted.
“See?” he asked. “So we’re doin’ just fine.” He pressed a kiss to the soft spot of skin under her ear, breathing her in. “Why don’t we open the calendar and see what’s in it?”
“Do you not remember?” she teased, turning in his arms.
He hummed, kissing the tip of her nose. “Keeley did this one,” he said. “I wasn’t allowed to look.”
“Dangerous,” she muttered, pulling away to go to the calendar, pulling the door open. She passed the paper to Ted, watching his eyes settle on the script before he laughed, passing it over to her.
Kiss under the mistletoe
“We technically haven’t done that yet,” she said. He looked around the room, frowning, before he looked back at her. “No, there isn’t mistletoe in here, if that’s what that quizzical look is for,” she said.
He chuckled. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to find some.”
***
Ted found, as the morning crept by, that one of the unexpected gifts that he received when he told Rebecca he loved her was being able to watch her get ready to face the public, knowing that when she put on armor - makeup, jewelry, designer clothes - she had just been perfectly content to exist without it with him.
She trusted him.
He lounged on her bed, her pillow tucked up under his head, because it smelled like her, watching her tie her hair back, pinning the little wispy pieces away from her face. Her eyes caught his in the mirror, her smile momentary before she refocused. His smile, on the other hand, lingered, watching her work, humming a little under her breath.
“If all we have to do is kiss under mistletoe,” she said thoughtfully. “What else do you want to do today?”
“Before or after we get to work late?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “There isn’t even a match to prepare for until after Christmas. All we have to do is paperwork -”
“If you’re suggesting we play hooky, I am more than willin’ to,” he said as she started rifling through her shelf of makeup. “We could bundle up, go get some lunch, track down all of the mistletoe in London and kiss under every single one -”
“Breaking and entering for a date, Ted?” she asked, arching one of her eyebrows at him in the mirror.
He shrugged. “Christmas adventure?”
“You know you don’t need mistletoe to kiss me, don’t you?” she asked, turning around on her chair, beckoning him closer. He obeyed, as he always did, letting her tug him down to kiss him on the lips, deliberately slow, the push and pull of her lips purposeful, sensual, her hum shivering down his spine.
She leaned back, letting out a breath, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as she surveyed him. He leaned in for a momentary, half-second kiss, a peck against her lips and her teeth, retreating almost immediately back to the bed, falling onto the pillows again. She laughed, beautiful, unrestrained, and turned back to the mirror.
“We could,” Ted said cautiously, swallowing when her eyes came back to him. “Instead of going out and playin’ hooky, you know, we could…”
“We could what, love?” she asked.
“We could stay in and play hooky,” he said.
She pursed her lips at him, her eyes shimmering with amusement. “Really?” she asked. “And what, pray tell, would we be doing if we stayed in all day?” She opened a jar of something pink on her dresser, using a little brush to wipe it over her lips.
He shrugged, her smile widening. “I’m sure we’ll think of somethin’.”
“Yeah, I bet we will,” she murmured, her phone ringing loudly on the side table. “Oh, could you answer that for me?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, his eyes falling on the display. “It’s Keeley.”
“So either she saw the red carpet photos from last night or she knows we must have opened the calendar by now,” Rebecca said as Ted swiped his finger over the screen.
“Hey, Keels,” he said.
“Ted?” Keeley asked. “I could’ve sworn I called Rebecca.”
“You did,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear to put her on speaker. “She’s doing her makeup. You’re on speaker.”
“Babe, how long has Ted been in your house?” Keeley asked leadingly.
“I dunno,” Rebecca said coyly. “I haven’t kept count.”
“I swear to God, Rebecca, if you shagged and didn’t tell me -”
“Ted, how many hours have you been in my house?” Rebecca interrupted, stifling her laugh behind her hand. “Actually, before you answer that, Keeley, did you look up the red carpet pictures from the gala last night?”
Keeley paused. “No,” she said. “I thought you said you were going to wear that long-sleeved dress, the no one is getting laid dress?”
“No one called it that but you,” Rebecca reminded her. “And I wore a different one.”
“A different one?” Keeley asked. “Fucking hell, you should have to do a press release anytime you change your planned wardrobe, for my goddamn sake -”
“Eleven hours,” Ted piped up from the bed, still holding the phone.
“Eleven hours what, babe?” Keeley asked absentmindedly, clearly looking for the pictures.
“I’ve been in Rebecca’s house for eleven hours,” he clarified.
There was a long pause, long enough that Ted lifted his eyes to Rebecca, who had put down a makeup brush and was waiting, her elbow on the table, for Keeley’s reaction. She caught his eye in the mirror and grinned. He felt, at the sight of her mirth, like a kid again.
“You floppy cocks, you absolutely shagged and didn’t tell me!” Keeley whined. “And these red carpet photos - Jesus Christ, Rebecca, put that fucking leg away before I take a bite of it -”
“We didn’t shag and not tell you,” Rebecca protested.
“Eleven hours, Rebecca!” Keeley replied loudly, Rebecca’s bark of laughter making him giggle. “Eleven hours in your house, where did he sleep, in your huge Jacuzzi tub? In the fucking garden? No, he probably slept on your beautiful fucking -”
“If you’re about to say tits, I’d rather you refrain.”
“Breasts,” Keeley finished.
“She likes to big spoon me,” Ted said matter-of-factly, Rebecca snorting at the table, setting her mascara wand aside.
“Rebecca!”
“Do you know where we can find some mistletoe?” Rebecca asked. “Because your entry in the calendar -”
“The fact that you’re not actually giving me any details is feeling very Keeley-phobic,” Keeley pointed out. “There’s mistletoe everywhere. I will follow you with mistletoe hanging from a fishing rod and a camera -”
“As fun as that sounds, Keeley, I’m not sure you’d be able to reach -”
“Ted Lasso, you little shithead -”
“Okay, if I promise to call you later and submit to all of your interrogations, will you let me track down some mistletoe?” Rebecca asked primly. “You’re the one who asked for us to -”
“Because I figured you’d both be stubborn and you wouldn’t have snogged yet, but here we are, at an undetermined place between first and home plate - actually, hold on, I do need to stop poking fun at you both and ask you a serious question as your PR manager.”
Rebecca looked up in the mirror, catching Ted’s curious look. “Okay, Keels, shoot.”
“I’m going to get press questions about the cheek kiss on the red carpet,” she said. “I already got some quiet questions from friends about ice skating at Somerset House, the Nutcracker outing, Rebecca, apparently they spotted you two going into some restaurant -”
“We aren’t doing interviews,” Rebecca said. “Certainly not during the holidays.”
“Noted,” she said. “But what do you both want the narrative to be? I can put them off for a little while longer, but eventually they’re just gonna speculate. Twitter already is -”
“Keeley, I’m gonna put you on hold for just a sec,” Ted said, waiting for her affirmative before he pressed the button, sitting up a little straighter. Rebecca turned from her seat, crossing her legs at the ankle.
“I’m fine with telling them whatever you’re comfortable with,” she said. “I won’t be upset if you want to play this quietly -”
“I did promise to shout that I loved you at photographers last night,” he reminded her. “Bein’ with you is an honor, Rebecca. I would tell strangers in the street if I didn’t think I’d prolly get pepper sprayed -”
She breathed a laugh. “Ted -”
“My point is, I’m fine with releasing a statement that says, unequivocally, that I am like…head over heels mad for you,” he said. “I will put romantic comedies to shame kinda in love with you.”
She was looking at him curiously, something playing around the edge of her mouth that looked a little like determination. She smiled when she caught him reading her expression, giving him a light nod.
He pressed his finger to the screen.
“Keeley,” Rebecca said immediately. “I’m going to write you a statement to release. Give me an hour.”
Keeley paused. “That’s my boss arse bitch,” she murmured. “Email it to me, yeah? I’ll call you later.”
Ted let Keeley end the call, the menu disappearing. He let his eyes fall to the phone as he moved to set it aside, his eyes falling on his name.
Ted Facts
“Do you have a…a list of facts about me?” he asked, looking up in time to see Rebecca’s head jerk in his direction, her hand extending out for her phone. He handed it over immediately, his eyes only managing to read one before it was gone -
If he has a panic attack, let him sleep, and then have him call Henry
Her face was flushed when he looked up at her, her fingers tapping on the screen before she gave up and set the phone behind her on the vanity.
“You don’t hafta be embarrassed -”
“It’s silly -”
He tilted his head at her, catching her eye. “Nothin’ wrong with silly.” When she didn’t answer him, he reached his hands out for her, pulling her between his legs, standing while he was still sitting on the edge of the bed. “How long have you been keepin’ it?”
She shrugged. “A while.”
“Honey,” he said, gently enough that she looked at him, looked and didn’t immediately avert her eyes. “I think it’s really sweet,” he promised. “I’m not teasin’ you, I’m not makin’ fun of you. I was just curious. But if you don’t wanna talk about it, then we don’t have to, right? It’s that simple.”
She nodded, two of her fingers tilting his chin up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, chaste and gentle, and then she was stepping away, her hands falling to his shoulders.
“I need to write that statement for Keeley,” she said. “Can you give me twenty minutes?”
“Sure I can,” he said easily. “I’m gonna go back to my apartment and get changed. Wanna meet there when you’re done?”
She nodded, something painfully grateful in her expression - he wondered if she was grateful for his easy acquiescence, or if she was grateful that he didn’t press her about the list she made. Either way, both options were easy for him to accommodate - it was just a matter of listening to her and offering her what she was asking for. The fact that he knew she’d be thinking of ways to make it up to him all day bothered him - her comfort had, for so long, been turned into something transactional, it had been used for leverage.
He lingered at her side, kissing the side of her head, against her hairline, smiling when she swayed into him, like they were a pair of magnets.
“Love you,” he promised.
“Love you more,” she answered.
***
I met Ted Lasso when my life was in shambles - everything I thought I knew was gone, the life I had been prepared to live was destroyed. Ted was, at first, an annoyance, because how dare anyone be happy when I was sad. How could someone who was constantly buried under a deluge of negativity so positive? It was a reflection of my own inadequacies.
And then he asked me how I was doing, and every day since, he has asked me, and really listened to the answer. Perhaps it will sound silly when I say that I fell for him because of simple questions. No one else had ever asked them.
Getting to know and love Ted has been the most rewarding experience of my life. Every day that he is in my life is a day that is worth surviving, even when the day is bad. Knowing that he loves me in return is a reminder that change is a lot like riding a horse: if you’re comfortable while you’re doing it, you’re probably doing it wrong.
We are public figures, which means our relationship will ultimately be subject to speculation. Allow me to dispel the speculation in a way Ted would approve of:
I wrote this press release because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
Rebecca stared at the finished press release, her stomach tight with nerves. She could simply email it to Keeley and be done with it, erase it from her mind until it was inevitably quoted ad nauseum by the press. It would be easier to do that - it was always easier to pretend she hadn’t done something vulnerable, something that left her open to humiliation or hurt.
But it was Ted’s name in the press release, too. He deserved to have the chance to approve it before it was published.
She sent it to his email first, picking up her phone.
“Hey, baby,” he answered on the second ring. She flushed, like she always did when he called her that. “What’s up?”
“I sent you the statement,” she said. “I just…uh…well, I thought you should see it.”
“Okay,” he said, and she heard his chair scraping against the floor. “Lemme take a look.”
“It’s in your email,” she said unnecessarily, falling silent at the sound of his fingers on the keys of his laptop. “I…I mean, I can change it if you don’t like it. Just…you know, let me know.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect,” he said reassuringly. “Okay, give me a second to read.”
The silence felt like it went on for eternity. Rebecca stared at the statement on her computer, reading along with him, trying to figure out where he was at any given second, what he’d just read. She heard the sound of his sigh, almost a chuckle, thoughtful, quiet, and then nothing.
“Ted?” she asked cautiously.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
“Are you alright?” she asked. “I can rewrite it -”
“Rebecca,” he interrupted, his voice so soft she flexed her fingers, aching to reach out and touch him. “It’s…it’s perfect. I mean, I knew it would be, but…you know, sometimes I think I can predict you, and then inevitably you surprise me in the best way.”
She smiled, tapping her nails on the table. “I was just trying to be honest.”
He laughed, a sniff somewhere in there, and she wondered if he was crying. “It’s beautiful, honey. I don’t think…you just gave me such a gift, I dunno if I’ll ever be able to tell you enough.”
She bit her lip, stifling her smile. “I’m gonna…I am going to send it along to Keeley, and then I’ll be over, okay?”
He sniffed again, and her heart panged in her chest. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”
***
He had just managed to get back into his apartment when Rebecca knocked. He adjusted the mistletoe, hanging haphazardly from the fan in his living room with string, and jogged over to the door, tugging it open.
She tilted her head at him, at her scarf that he still wore around his neck (it was his favorite now), at the hat on his head. “Were you just outside?” she asked, pressing a momentary kiss to his lips as he stepped aside to let her in.
“I was, yes,” he said. “I went down to the Crown and Anchor and asked Mae if I could buy her mistletoe.”
She laughed, her arms slipping around his waist, content to hold him in the entry, her head resting against his. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” he said. “I figured that even though you wrote that press release, and even though we aren’t hiding, you might not want to go kissin’ under mistletoe in front of people we don’t know quite yet. And if you do want to do that, well, there’s more mistletoe outside, I’m sure. And I don’t mind kissin’ you again -”
“I hope not,” she said, her eyes searching his face. He let her look, content to pull the hat off of her head, reaching behind her to hang it on the peg, his hands moving toward her scarf next. She let him, her eyes soft, unzipping her jacket herself. He let her take the scarf off of him, knocking his hat off in the process, falling between them.
He was reminded, suddenly, of being a kid, of standing in the doorway and taking off his boots, his hat, his jacket, the movements different from when his mother helped him get bundled up to go outside in the first place. There was something so fundamentally caring about the gesture. I care if you’re warm, I care if you’re comfortable.
It meant more in a place like Richmond, where the cold bit down deeper, where it was harder to stay warm.
And how many times had Rebecca put a scarf around his neck, touched the lapels of his jacket, squeezed his cold hand in her own to warm it up?
Even when she didn’t realize it, she was showing her love silently, quietly, and she had been for a long time. Now - now that she felt comfortable, that she felt secure, she was showing him out loud, publicly, in a grand gesture.
He was so indescribably lucky he felt like he was going to burst at the seams.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Rebecca said as he dropped his hands into hers, tugging her back toward the mistletoe.
“Thinkin’ about you,” he said truthfully.
She ducked her head a little. “Flatterer.”
He shook his head. “Honest,” he promised. “When I was married to Michelle, I got used to bein’ the one who was sayin’ the romantic stuff. I was the one who was tryin’ to do things so she knew how much I loved her. And she didn’t do that, really, not for me. And I don’t blame her, she was always quieter about it, she wasn’t comfortable doin’ things like that.”
Rebecca nodded, her hands still in his own.
“It didn’t bother me until she stopped likin’ it when I did somethin’ romantic for her,” he said with a shrug. “And then it felt like a scale had been tipped for a long time and I’d never noticed. And that’s not the reality of it, but that’s how it felt.”
“I understand -”
“And you just wrote one of the most romantic things I’ve ever read,” he continued, pulling her closer, his hands cupping her cheeks, thumbs brushing soothingly over her skin. “And I know it wasn’t easy for ya, Rebecca, because you don’t like to give people…I dunno, leverage. But you did that for me, for us.”
She nodded. “Talking about how much I love you isn’t hard, Ted,” she said. “Because I’m proud of it. I’m just not used to being able to do it in public.”
His chest ached, deep and rich with complex feeling that only Rebecca could make him feel. He let her pull him in even closer, close enough that her chest was pressed to his, capturing his lips in a kiss so gentle he immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, his tongue sliding past the seam of her lips, the soft sound she made beautiful, delicate.
She huffed a laugh against him, swaying on her feet, tilting her head to catch his lips in a better seal, one of her hands slipping over his stubble, down to his neck, fingers through his hair.
He would never get enough of kissing her - she wrote poetry with her lips, with the line of her body against his - she poured everything into the way she kissed him, like she was trying to tell him something she didn’t have words for. But that didn’t make sense, not when she had already spelled out exquisitely how much she loved him.
The idea that she still had more to say was dizzying.
He tugged her back toward the couch, still kissing her, falling back onto it when his knees hit, Rebecca watching him go for a second, her lips a little swollen, a smile on her face, before she followed, climbing up onto his lap, swallowing his surprised sound with another kiss, her laughter just a hint.
He dropped his hands to the tops of her thighs, gripping tighter when she made a breathy noise, tugging her closer, over his lap, her legs spreading wider to accommodate him. He hummed against her, slipping his hands underneath her sweater to the bare skin underneath, taking her waist with both of his hands, feeling the way she moved her hips at the touch before he explored higher, one hand up her back, the other ghosting up her chest, fingertips over the swell of her breasts, tracing over her collarbone.
“Take it off,” she said, resting her forehead against his, her hair falling over so all he could see was her face, shining gold from the sunlight through her hair. He nodded immediately, tugging the sweater up and off, his eyes falling on a cream-colored bra, pearls sewn into the straps.
He couldn’t stop himself from staring, smiling at the sound of her breathless laugh, her hands gently touching his chest while he looked, her fingers pulling insistently at the hem of his own sweater until he leaned forward to help her take it off.
She groaned at the sight of his bare chest, ducking down to kiss his shoulder, the closest spot she could reach while still on his lap. He wrapped both arms around her waist and shifted sideways, falling back onto the couch, his head on the cushion so she could lean over him, her breathless noise of approval sweet in his ears.
His hands slid up her back as she crawled off his lap, settling instead on her knees between his legs to kiss his chest, her hands flat on his skin, fingers spread wide like she wanted to touch all of him at once. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, her own panted breaths on his skin, a slightly off-beat rhythm that lulled him into closing his eyes to rely entirely on feeling.
Her hair tickled, trailing over his chest as she moved down his torso, nipping gently at the skin of his hip.
“We could - Jesus - we could move this to the bedroom,” he suggested, her fingernails scratching lightly at his skin before her fingers stopped, at the buckle of his belt.
“Something wrong with your couch?” she teased, deftly unhooking the belt and undoing the buckle with one hand, her other hand landing flat on his chest again. He sat up to kiss her again, his hand landing on the clasp of her bra. She slid it down her arms the moment it was unhooked, her voice stuttering over his name when he pulled her back onto his lap, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. “Fuck, Ted -”
He growled, holding her tighter, feeling the ends of her hair when she tipped her head back, both of her hands slipping into his hair. He could feel her hips, the intrinsic swivel of them, matching the rhythm of his tongue, the pressure push and pull over the undone zipper of his pants.
He pushed her back, between his open legs and onto her back on the other side of the couch, pausing for only a second to admire her, flushed and breathless and beautiful, before his hands found the waistband of her tights, her hips lifting immediately to help him take them off.
“You too,” she insisted, still out of breath, her hands reaching for his pants, settling for the brush of her fingers over his thighs before she leaned back to watch him stand up to take off the last of his clothes. He felt like he could hardly breathe, looking at her, naked on his couch, her hair mussed, her face the picture of hunger, of longing, her hand already reaching for him. “Still want to go to the bedroom?” she asked.
“No,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of her, tugging her to the edge of the couch, draping her legs over his shoulders. She watched him, her lips parted to catch her breath, her head falling back onto the cushion when he kissed the inside of her knee, his eyes still on hers.
She moaned his name when he kissed up her thighs, just barely lingering over her center before he gave in to temptation and tasted her, her answering sound just as loud and desperate as he always hoped it would be. For a few minutes, he was content with simply exploring her, learning her, cataloging her reactions. He wasn’t trying to do anything but learn.
And then he brushed his tongue over her, so painfully gentle it nearly drove him mad to do it, and her whole body shuddered, her hand finding the back of his head. He did it again, her breathless moan almost surprised, like she hadn’t expected it.
He teased her, momentary brushes of his tongue, just barely flicking over her clit, every desperate noise she made making him harder, more impatient. But it was that teasing she liked, the gentle, loving drags of his tongue, and she was saying his name, sweet and broken and he could barely breathe, his heart thundering in his chest.
Her thighs on either side of his head were quaking, trembling with every slow lick, her hips chasing the sensation - her hand, at the back of his head, tightened, nails scraping against his scalp, and he moaned against her, kissing her instead of licking, her answering sound almost a sob.
When she came apart against his mouth, she whimpered his name, her body shaking, her hips chasing every last aftershock, the movements so sinful he had to drop his hand to his aching cock to relieve a little bit of the pressure.
He kissed her thighs as she came down, content to watch and ignore the thrumming need in his blood for a few minutes. How often had he thought about what it would look like to make her come? How many times had he dreamed about it?
It took her a few minutes to catch her breath, her hand falling to her chest, as if to track her heartbeat. Her other hand reached for him, threading through his fingers and holding before she sat up, tugging at his hand.
“On the couch,” she said, her voice raspy. He obeyed immediately, and she climbed back on his lap, settling her shaking thighs on either side of his. He looked up at her, her eyes falling to his immediately, holding his gaze for only a second before she leaned down to kiss him, licking into his mouth.
Her hand gently lined him up, her mouth breaking away from his to gasp as she slowly lowered herself onto him, her eyes closing as she took him deeper, inch by inch. He kept himself still, his head tipped back against the cushion, until he was fully seated in her, her walls clenching tight around him.
“I love you,” she murmured against his skin, pressing a ghost of a kiss before she moved her hips, careful, slow, keeping him deep inside. “Fuck -”
He nodded in agreement, out of breath, and she huffed a weak laugh, moving a little faster, her laugh melting into a moan. Every movement of her hips chased his breath out of his lungs - he let one hand slide up her back, holding her as close as possible, the other falling to her hip, increasing her pace with just a press of his fingers, her moan louder, more desperate.
He could hear his voice saying her name, a prayer against her neck, and she answered him with her own sound. He wrapped both arms around her waist and lifted her up just enough to get the leverage to drive into her himself, harder, faster than before - she gasped, clenching around him, her arms, braced on the back of the couch, shaking.
She shifted her hips to meet every thrust, taking him as deeply as she could, her strangled noise in his ear urging him to go faster, harder, please, Ted -
He tumbled over the edge with almost no warning, her body tightening around him only a few moments later, her hips chasing her orgasm as he slowly came down, his head resting on her collarbone, trying to catch his breath.
He didn’t know how long they stayed that way, trying to catch their breath. He just knew he didn’t want to move, didn’t want her to move.
When they finally did move, it was only to fall more completely onto the couch, Rebecca wrapping her limbs around him so they would both fit, and by then, Ted was asleep.
December 22
After an entire day cooped up in Ted’s flat, Rebecca woke to a pleasant aching in her muscles, still naked, her limbs tangled in Ted’s. She watched him sleep, replaying the day before, watching cartoons on the couch, wrapped in blankets because they couldn’t be bothered to get dressed again, Ted’s hand creeping over to touch her thigh, to tickle the back of her knee to make her giggle, his kisses peppered over her body over and over again.
She wanted that kind of affection every day - she craved it more than she expected to, now that she had it.
She sat up at the sound of her phone ringing, trying to decide, glancing back at Ted, if she would leave it to ring or if it would wake him up. He shifted a little, his hand falling from her waist to the blanket, and she used the momentary lack of contact to get up, closing the bedroom door gently behind her.
Her phone was on the coffeetable, some of the papers on it knocked over, tossed haphazardly on the floor along with her sweater, her bra, her knickers. She smirked at the state of the place, scooping up her phone.
“Amelia,” she said, wrapping one of the abandoned blankets on the couch around her still naked body. “Something wrong?”
“Um…yes and no,” Amelia sounded vaguely out of breath, a little harried. “I know you RSVP’d maybe to the fundraiser tonight because of the orchestra gala -”
“Right -”
“And the organization I’m a part of, we hired Cam Cole, the guy Ted found -”
“I remember him,” Rebecca said reassuringly.
“Well he has the flu,” Amelia said. “And we need someone who can sing some Christmas music for…an hour or so? We tried contacting some other suggestions, but they’re all either already booked or already gone for Christmas.”
“Robbie Williams is Rupert’s friend, not mine, remember?” she asked, lifting her eyes to find Ted, leaning against the doorframe, watching her, his hair a mess, in a pair of boxers and nothing else. She extended her hand out for him, grinning when he walked over immediately, standing beside her so she could touch him aimlessly, her hand walking over his chest, stomach, down to his hips.
“I was actually thinking that maybe you could sing,” Amelia said haltingly. “Just some Christmas carols, very casual -”
“You want me to sing?”
Ted, beside her, raised his eyebrows encouragingly at her. She pursed her lips.
“Amelia, I mostly sing karaoke when I’m drunk -”
“You can get drunk,” Amelia said, a little desperately. “We just need someone to do some live music. Apparently, if you suggest a DJ, people will threaten to throw you out onto the street -”
“How many people are coming to this fundraiser?” Rebecca asked, Ted’s hand falling on top of hers, still on his torso.
“A…a couple hundred,” Amelia hedged. “We should have over 400,000 pounds in donations by the end of the night for victims of domestic abuse, enough to renovate the shelter that we -”
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said, Ted’s hand squeezing hers. “But Ted will be with me.”
“Thank you so much, I promise it’ll be…it’ll be fun, I’m going to - I’m going to have the program coordinator call you in a few minutes, let you know when you can do a sound check -”
“Do what you have to do, I’ll be by my phone,” she promised. “Take a breath, it’s gonna be fine.”
She looked up at Ted as her phone went dark, his eyes curious. “That sounded interestin’,” he said with a chuckle.
She nodded. “I hope you’re free tonight,” she said. “And I hope you’ve got a clean suit.”
***
“Are you sure you don’t wanna do this by yourself?” Ted asked, casting his eyes around the room, his gaze falling inevitably on the stage he and Rebecca had already spent the afternoon on, listening to music levels, changing the volume of microphones and playback. “I feel like I’ll be holdin’ you back up there.”
“Impossible,” she said, leaning against the bar, her glass of champagne held deftly with only two fingers. He let his eyes rove over her again, over the sheer overlay on her gold dress, embroidered at the bottom with more gold, accentuating the shimmering glow of her skin. She set the glass aside, moving a little closer. “Thank you for helping me with this,” she said. “I know there was something in the calendar -”
“It’s for a good cause,” he said earnestly. “And hearin’ you sing is always a gift.”
He let her sing the first song by herself (All I Want For Christmas Is You), the crowd entranced by her and her voice, too captivated even to dance. The roar of the crowd when she was done was almost deafening - he watched her bow in on herself a little, covering her face, the angle of where he was standing giving him only a glimpse of her luminous smile.
They sang I’ll Be Home For Christmas together, her eyes an anchor on his, so alluring he couldn’t look away for a moment to even pull the crowd in on the moment. He didn’t mind if his stage presence wasn’t as inclusive as it could be - she was perfect, beautiful, her voice full of aching emotion -
He realized, as the song was starting to wind down to a close, that he hadn’t missed Kansas once this year, not like he had last year. He missed Henry, like he always did, but he didn’t miss home.
He was home.
He let her hand find his as the song drifted into silence, the couples dancing on the floor pausing to clap. She squeezed, holding a little tighter when he loosened his grip.
He realized, almost halfway through their set, that the entry in the calendar had been caroling. He’d planned to do it in the privacy of her house, with a little karaoke machine he bought at the store that hooked up to her television, just in case she didn’t want to sing in public. The irony of it amused him so much that Rebecca tilted her head at him, halfway through Sleigh Ride, like she wanted to be in on the joke.
He made a mental promise to tell her later.
Her final song was River - he left the stage for that, lingering near the front of the stage to film it, knowing as he did that the angle would be all wrong because he couldn’t be bothered to watch through the screen. He had to look at her with no impediments, had to watch the emotions wash over her like a wave - before, he would have worried that the melancholy would linger with her after the song was finished.
But every now and then, her eyes would leave the crowd and find him, and she would smile, and he knew that, maybe for the first time, the song wasn’t going to haunt her later, when the night was over.
He waited for her to leave the stage before he held out his arm for her, welcoming her into his side, pressing a kiss to her cheek, trying to keep her lipstick intact.
“Gorgeous,” he swore, catching Amelia’s eye, giving her a nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me -”
“What?” she asked as he stepped away. “Ted, that was the last song.”
“Just one more,” he said. “For you.”
He didn’t expect the crowd to know the song he was going to sing - he didn’t really care if they did or not. What mattered was that the song was so perfect for Rebecca that he couldn’t not sing it for her.
She tilted her head a little at him when it started, confused, Amelia pausing by her to pass her a glass of champagne, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and then it was just Rebecca watching him, the couples on the dance floor just barely swaying together. Maybe, when they got home after this (his home or hers, it didn’t really matter), he would hum this in her ear again while they danced in the living room. Maybe he’d take a bow off one of the gifts and stick it to her, like that one gold one that he still hadn’t forgotten.
“Just put a ribbon in your hair, darling. You’ll be the best gift anywhere Christmas mornin’. There’s no worldly treasure, I’d like any better than you standing there. Just put a ribbon in your hair.”
Her smile was so soft he thought maybe it was supposed to be a secret, her lowered eyes almost shy. He met her at the edge of the stage, her hand extended out for his cheek, guiding him in for a kiss on the lips, long enough that he knew what she was saying without saying it.
I love you
December 23
They didn’t make it home until after midnight - her home, not Ted’s - her feet aching from standing onstage and then mingling afterward, her skin buzzing a little with the champagne that was starting to wear off. Her eyelashes were heavy, her body tired - but when they walked into the house, Ted gently took her clutch out of her hand and set it on the table, pulling her into the living room and into his embrace, swaying slightly on his feet.
He was humming the same song he sang onstage earlier, soft and sweet and a little rough, the way all country music sounded to her when he sang it. He had both arms around her waist, his head leaned against hers - he pulled away for only a second to take one of the ribbons off the tree, setting it gently on top of her hair, chuckling a little when it fell.
“Ahh well,” he murmured, pulling her close again. “Worth a shot.”
She looked over at the bottom of the tree, at the little spot she’d cleared out to lie beneath days ago, Ted’s eyes following it.
“You haven’t done it yet?” he asked, and she didn’t bother to ask how he knew what she was thinking. “Do you want to?”
“If I get down there, I might not get back up,” she admitted.
Ted hummed. “I’ll help you,” he promised. “Come on.”
There was hardly enough room around the pile of gifts for them both - Ted’s head ended up pressed against hers, their shoulders overlapping. He reached for her hand, finding her wrist instead, and pulled it up so their joined hands were resting near their shoulders.
“Well?” he asked. “Is it like you remember?”
It was - the gold sparkled through the dark green of the branches, the red ornaments reflecting the gold light like a warm fire, the stained glass glimmering like a jewel. It felt like being a child again, like Christmas had magic beyond the magic she’d already experienced. For a few moments, Santa Claus was real, Christmas was a dream, and nothing wrong had ever happened. She was a child, untouched and untethered, every vein full of unsaid sentiment, unheard laughter. She was possibility.
“Yeah,” she said, feeling suddenly choked up. “Yeah, it is.”
She felt him look over at her; she turned to meet his gaze, his eyes sparkling like the stained glass above her.
He was Christmas, even more than this childhood memory. She hoped that the magic of him would never fade, even after Christmas was done.
She didn’t think it would.
***
Rebecca insisted that Ted open the calendar for the 23rd. She leaned against the dining room table, sipping her tea, in his sweater and no pants, watching him take out the 22nd and show her the piece of paper inside.
She chuckled, setting it aside while he reached for the 23rd - when he opened the door, a thicker piece of cardstock came out, folded haphazardly. Ted glanced over his shoulder at her, confused, and opened it.
“I suppose this was another Keeley entry?” Rebecca asked as his eyes ran over it, his smile widening. “What is it?”
“You are cordially invited to Sexy Christmas,” he read aloud. “Keeley’s house, 9 p.m. Dresscode is…lace, satin, and sexy.” He looked over at her. “I don’t know if I have clothes that meet that description.”
She laughed, holding out her hand for the invitation.
“She really didn’t tell you about this?” Rebecca asked, rereading what Ted had already said. “Not even a hint?”
“Nope,” he said. “Though I suppose she was worried I’d chicken out -”
“That’s why kissing under the mistletoe was first,” she said. “So you’d be more inclined to go to the Sexy Christmas Party with me.”
He hummed, slipping his arms around her waist. “Goin’ to any kind of sexy party and not bein’ able to come home with you would be torture of the highest order,” he admitted. “I suppose this is why Keeley told you to buy somethin’ sexy?”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “I suppose so,” she said. “She’ll be pleased with what I picked.”
“I’ll plug in Rebecca-induced heart palpitations into my schedule,” he murmured, kissing the side of her head. “But that means I need to go find somethin’ to wear. I’ll go run out and do that and we can meet for lunch, how’s that?”
“Have Walter take you,” Rebecca said. “It’s too cold for you to walk.”
“Of course, honey bunch,” Ted said, pressing a kiss to her lips.
***
Rebecca stared at herself in the mirror, the white bodysuit and white shorts shimmering a little under the lights of her vanity. She fiddled with her hair, left down and loose, her ring nearly catching in it. She took it off, setting it aside, both of her thumbs finding her empty ring fingers.
She went back into her closet for her white coat, slipping it up her shoulders, tying it around her waist. Sexy Christmas or not, it was still too cold to go without it.
“Tell me again how this is sexy,” Ted said, leaning against the door to Rebecca’s closet, fiddling with the button to the black satin pajamas he was wearing. “I think the suit was sexier -”
“You’re sexy in everything,” she said easily. “And the invitation did say lace, satin, or sexy. You’re on theme.”
“And which of the theme did you embody?” Ted asked, his hands reaching for the lapels of her jacket to peel it open. She gently swatted his hands away.
“Don’t you worry about it yet,” she said.
He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip just far enough that she leaned over to kiss it.
“If I show you now, we won’t ever leave,” she warned.
“Now I really wanna see,” he said, his hands reaching for her even as she darted out of his reach, out of the bedroom and down the stairs, where she had a pair of white heels waiting. Ted held onto her arm while she slid her feet into them, waiting patiently until she had her balance back before he let go to find his own coat.
“On a scale of one to ten, how quickly do you think she’s going to pull me into another room to interrogate me about you?” Rebecca asked as the car pulled up to Keeley’s house, the red lights glowing through the windows.
“Ten being immediately?” Ted asked. “Eleven.”
“That’s what I figured,” she said, taking Ted’s hand, his eyes lingering on her bare leg as it extended out of her coat, following it up, she knew, to try to find a hint of what she was wearing underneath. “Promise me you’ll say nice things about me while I’m being interrogated.”
He tilted his head at her. “Of course I will,” he said blankly.
She paused. “I - I don’t know why I said that,” she admitted. “I know that you will -”
“It’s alright,” he said reassuringly, his hand settling on the small of her back. “I understand. Sometimes you just need to hear it. And I don’t mind saying it.”
“I love you,” she murmured as the door swung open, Keeley on the other side in a sheer red dress, red lingerie underneath.
“Get inside, the cold is going to get in,” Keeley said, tugging them both inside with both of her hands, her heels clicking on the floor. Her entire house was decorated with red, white, and black, a vinyl record crackling in the other room, a chocolate fountain in the kitchen, strawberries arranged around it.
“Oi, Merry Christmas,” Roy said, pausing at the chocolate fountain, in a black matching set of pajamas, rather like Ted’s, the torso fitted against his chest with a harness. “Beard brought mulled wine, but there’s champagne over here that’s cold if you want to torture yourself.”
“Roy -”
“I only meant because it’s cold,” he said as a peal of laughter rose in the other room. He turned toward it, taking a strawberry with him, sans chocolate.
“Okay, you, this way,” Keeley said as Rebecca untied her coat, shrugging it off. “Jesus fucking Christ, Rebecca -”
Ted, behind her, cleared his throat - Rebecca glanced at him over her shoulder, catching his eyes on their way back up her body, his hand finding his collar, pulling it away from his throat. “I agree with Keeley,” he said unnecessarily, reaching one hand out to take her coat, the other to slip around her waist, tugging her back toward him so he could kiss her, a solid but still chaste kiss in front of Keeley.
She squealed happily anyway. “Okay, okay, I’d love to watch, but you, move it,” she said, swatting at Rebecca’s ass, pushing her toward the stairs. “My room. Ted, go have fun, we’ll be right back.”
She looked back at him one more time at the stairs, his eyes on her legs, mouth just barely open. She giggled, loud enough that Ted’s eyes jumped up to hers, his cheeks flushing, and then he was gone, the burn of his eyes lingering even as Keeley shut the door to her bedroom and pushed Rebecca toward her bed.
“Now what in the fuck is going on with you and Ted?” she demanded.
Rebecca furrowed her brow. “We’re dating. I sent you the press release.”
“You sent me a love letter,” Keeley insisted. “You sent me what sounded like a bloody marriage announcement. Dating announcements are boring as shit, babe. They’re always like yeah our genitals touch, so what and that’s it.”
“He deserves better than that,” Rebecca said easily, shrugging.
Keeley’s expression softened. “That’s really sweet, actually. So you’ve talked. About Rupert, and Michelle -”
“Yes,” she said. “A great many other things, too.”
“Good,” Keeley said seriously. “Good, because I know that’s hard for both of you to do. I’m proud of you, babe.”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
“Now tell me about the shagging.”
***
Ted was already buzzed by the time Rebecca returned from upstairs, her white outfit just as breathtaking the second time as it was the first time. He couldn’t decide where to look - at the lace cups of the bra, designed to look strategically see-through, the satin bodice that clung to her waist and hips, or at the white shorts, trimmed in lace, that stopped just below the curve of her ass, her legs longer than he remembered, longer than he thought possible.
Beard chuckled at him, passing another glass of mulled wine into his hands. “Drinking will help,” he promised as Ruth came back into the room in a green lacy nightie and black stockings. “At least, that’s what I’m banking on.”
“Okay, we should play a game,” Keeley said, plopping down on the couch beside Roy, halfway on his lap.
“Sexy Monopoly,” Ted said, Rebecca sitting down beside him, tossing her legs over his lap.
“I say strip poker,” Keeley said brightly, as if they were suggesting the same thing somehow.
“All of the women in the room are wearing like…two things,” Roy said. “Hardly seems fair.”
“I’m not playing Scrabble with you again, Roy, that was the least sexy experience of my life -”
“Fuckhead is a word, I don’t give a fuck what the dictionary says -”
“When I was in school, we always played a cheeky game of Spin the Bottle,” Ruth suggested, sipping her champagne. “Made everybody laugh -”
“I have like fourteen bottles,” Keeley said immediately getting up.
Ted leaned into Rebecca’s shoulder while the room erupted in muttering, little pockets of conversation. “You have a nice chat?”
Rebecca nodded. “Not nearly as torturous as she led me to believe. Turns out it isn’t hard to talk about who I’m dating when they’re you.”
He pursed his lips, trying not to smile too widely when Keeley came back in with an empty bottle of champagne. She kneeled down on the floor, motioning for everyone to follow suit.
“Okay, we’re going to play until I get to give Rebecca a kiss on her beautiful mouth,” she said, spinning the bottle so hard it nearly rolled into Beard’s knees. “Hold on, do over.”
The bottle clattered and came to a stop, pointing at Ruth, who shrugged and leaned over, giving Keeley a kiss, her hand on Keeley’s chin. Ted leaned against Rebecca’s shoulder, chuckling when Ruth’s spin on the bottle stopped at Beard, who shrugged and gave her a kiss on the tip of her nose.
Ted sipped his mulled wine and contented himself with watching, somehow avoiding the end of the bottle until Roy’s turn. He chuckled at Rebecca’s shoulder shimmy against his chest, leaning over to kiss Roy momentarily on the lips, Keeley cheering happily at it.
When it was Rebecca’s turn, Keeley leaned forward, expectantly watching the bottle turn until it came to a gentle stop, pointing at Beard.
“I swear to fucking Christ,” she muttered as Rebecca leaned over the bottle to press her lips to Beard’s, chuckling when he swooped in to kiss her on the cheek afterward.
By the time everyone was a little too drunk to keep track of the game, Keeley still hadn’t managed to get a kiss from Rebecca, her whining becoming a running joke, and Ted was pretty sure he’d kissed everyone around the entire circle. Again, as he often did when he was with Rebecca, he felt like a kid again, a giddy teenager caught up in an inch of skin, the smell of her hair, the thrumming of alcohol in his veins.
He made sure, before he and Rebecca collected their coats to go home, that everyone had their gifts in their hands.
“Don’t open them until Christmas,” he said warningly, Rebecca folding herself into his side, her eyes closing while she hummed, tucking her head into his neck. “Come on, sweetheart -”
“I am never going to get fucking tired of that,” Keeley promised, wrapping her arms around them both at the same time. “Merry Christmas, you beautiful fuckers -”
“Love you,” Rebecca murmured as she pulled back.
“Love you most,” Keeley said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then Ted’s, ushering them out the door. “Now go home and get naughty.”
***
“She asked me if I wanted to marry you,” Rebecca said softly on the ride home, her hand on his leg, head on his shoulder. “Keeley.”
She felt him look down at her - she could tell he wasn’t sure what to say to that, how to move the conversation forward without telling her what he wanted her to say. She snuggled a little deeper into him.
“She thought I might be adverse to the idea of getting married again,” she said thoughtfully. “After Rupert.”
He nodded. “I would be concerned about the same thing,” he admitted.
She shrugged. “Marriage wasn’t the problem with Rupert,” she said. “Rupert was the problem.”
His hand, around her shoulders, found the ends of her hair, playing aimlessly with it, and she let it distract her, the gentle touch of the tips of his fingers, knowing simultaneously that he wanted to touch her all over, that he had wanted to touch her since he saw what she was wearing. There was something so comforting about knowing that she was wanted, knowing it was a fact and not a possibility.
“What did you tell her?” Ted finally asked when they got out of the car, unlocking her front door himself, her bag in his hand.
She kicked off one heel and then the other. “I said not wanting to marry Ted Lasso should be considered a sign of insanity,” she said, catching the way he nearly fumbled her purse, carefully setting it down on the table. “She didn’t seem terribly surprised.”
He shrugged off his coat, his eyes still on her, like he was thinking about what he was going to say next. She waited, her hand on the belt of her coat, for him to speak.
“Were you?” she asked when he didn’t speak. “Terribly surprised?”
He hung his coat up on the peg, clearing his throat. “I uh…I don’t know,” he said, holding his hands out for the belt of her coat. “Sometimes I think that I hope for things so much that I convince myself they’re not possible.”
He carefully untied the coat, easing it down her shoulders.
“I thought you didn’t like it’s the hope that kills you,” she said, letting him step away to hang up her coat. He came back to her immediately, arms around her waist.
“If I got my hopes up about you, Rebecca, and then somehow managed to mess it up, I don’t know that I would’ve been able to come back from that,” he said. “Because you’re…you’re you.”
“That’s not so scary,” she said softly. “Is it?”
“You’re not scary, honey,” he said. “But for a little while, what I felt for you was scary, because I didn’t know if I would ever get to tell you, or show you, and you know me. Bottlin’ things up is my speciality until it isn’t.”
She nodded. “Well, I plan on being with you for the rest of my life,” she said carefully, firmly, so he couldn’t misunderstand. “Married or not, that part doesn’t matter too much to me. What matters is you.”
He made a noise, something soft at the back of his throat, and then he was kissing her, his hands on her hips pushing her back toward the stairs, his lips on hers rich, sensual, like he was grateful to be kissing her, like at some point, she might stop him.
He let her break away long enough to get up the stairs, catching her around the waist at the top of them, his lips finding her neck, her collarbone, easing one of the straps of her bodysuit down, his teeth sinking into her neck, a momentary spike of pressure he immediately soothed with a kiss, his hands running up her back, down over her arse, down to her thighs - his hands were everywhere, gentle and purposeful, directing her back toward her bed, pushing her down onto it.
She was still buzzed from the mulled wine, the ceiling bouncing a little in her vision when she fell back onto the pillows, but then Ted was there, and she could focus on him in a way she couldn’t focus on anything else, her hands undoing the buttons of his shirt, her legs locked around his waist to hold him in place, the weight of him a grounding pressure she loved - she couldn’t stand it, suddenly, how much she loved him, how badly she wanted him -
“I love you,” she panted into his ear, her shorts discarded, his own pants gone, his shirt open. He paused at her neck, his mustache scraping against her skin. “I love you so much -”
He leaned back to look at her, on his knees between her legs, his hair falling over his forehead, and placed both hands on the insides of her thighs, watching her face as he slid them down, unhooking the bodysuit so she could take it off, tossing it away onto the chair. The movement made him laugh, and she welcomed him back into her arms while he was still laughing, pressing a kiss to his cheek, where she knew his dimple was.
He kissed her back, a haphazard press of his lips, too preoccupied with his hands, with touching her without stopping, his voice in her ear, rough and low and thick with his accent.
“You’re so beautiful in white,” he said against her neck, his fingers teasing her, the slow stretch of two of his fingers. “He didn’t deserve you, Rebecca, none of them deserved you -”
He whispered praise to her as he worked her to her peak, every compliment warming her skin a little more until she felt tears prick her eyes, the obvious, tangible love in his voice impossible to deny, impossible to shy away from.
He held her close when he entered her, his arms wrapped around her, capturing her lips in a kiss so deep she couldn’t escape that he was covering her completely, that he was around her, over her, in her, and still, it didn’t feel like enough.
He didn’t let her go even after he came, even after he caught his breath - she wondered if he could read her mind, if he knew that she wanted him as close as he could get forever.
December 24
He dreamed of a wedding, of Rebecca all in white, her smile under the veil reassuring, gentle, while he waited for her at the end of an aisle in a church he didn’t remember ever walking into. The faces around them all were blurred - he couldn’t see anyone but her, couldn’t hear any voice but her own.
Everything passed in flashes of light, like photographs - he lifted her veil, smiling at the curve of her grin, her eyes full of tears - her kiss was sweet like honey, her hands holding tightly to his. He could feel the press of a wedding band on his finger again.
He woke at the sound of the church bell tolling, Rebecca still asleep beside him, the sheet down near her waist. He gently extricated himself, slipping on the fluffy robe, his eyes falling on Rebecca’s white clothes from the night before, still discarded in the middle of the floor.
She slept for another hour, long enough for him to make a stack of chocolate pancakes, the last one ready to be flipped when she finally came downstairs, her hair sticking up on one side, her robe hanging off one shoulder.
“Happy Christmas Eve,” she murmured.
“I made pancakes,” he said, smiling when she groaned against his back. “Now that’s the sound I love to hear.”
“Cheeky,” she said, releasing him. “I’ll make you a coffee.”
He loved that about her, the little ways she supplemented his gestures, added to them, responded to them. There was never anything he did that felt like it fell on deaf ears, or anything that felt unappreciated.
They ate pancakes standing up near the counter, Rebecca stealing bites while Ted turned on the kettle for her tea, Ted stealing his own in retaliation. In the end, neither of them ate their own pancakes, but instead mostly each others, between giggles and sips of coffee until her tea was brewed.
“I thought we could exchange gifts today,” he said as he put dishes into the dishwasher. “Since we’re gonna be delivering gifts tomorrow -”
“Is that what’s in the calendar?” she asked coyly.
He nodded faithfully. “I would never double book you on Christmas. I know how much it means to you. I thought I could pop over to my apartment, pack up the gifts, and we can open them together.”
She hopped up onto the counter, tugging him between her legs, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to carry them all?” she asked. “Since you apparently bought out every department store you found.”
He shrugged. “I have no idea what you mean. That was all Santa.”
“A day early?” she asked.
“I don’t pretend to know how his mind works,” he said playfully. “Also Santa left me a box to help with transport.”
She laughed, kissing his lips sweetly. “Okay, get going, I’ll see you in a little while.”
***
Rebecca had just finished stacking up Ted’s gifts when he knocked haphazardly on the door, his hands full of a box stacked with gifts. She jogged over to the door to open it for him, still in her robe - he was wearing the scarf she gave him again, his coat buttoned up completely, his smile bright over the collar.
“Ho ho ho, or somethin’,” he said, leaning over to kiss her, his lips cold.
He set the box down on the coffee table, going back to the entry to take off his coat and the scarf. She watched him do it, warmth blooming in her chest at the sight of his excitement, realizing as she felt the emotion that she was going to feel that forever, that he’d given her the opportunity to feel it forever.
“Okay, so before you tell me that I bought you too many things, some of these things are a little silly, a couple of them are practical,” he warned, taking the presents out of the box.
“So are some of yours,” she said reassuringly.
“I don’t remember which ones are which,” he admitted, looking at a sizeable box before he set it aside, taking out a tiny box and putting it on the edge of the table, far from the others. “So you could pick any one and go to town.”
“I’ll open one if you open one,” she said, picking up a gift wrapped in blue paper.
They alternated gift after gift, each new one an answer to the last one. She opened a diamond hair clip in the shape of a butterfly and he opened a set of TL cufflinks; she opened a pair of pink Nikes and he opened a custom pair of Nike ice skates -
When they got down to only a couple of gifts each, she had gold thorn earrings, her own pink Switch Joy-Cons, a pink blazer that matched a green one she already owned, a certificate for an all-inclusive spa weekend, an apron that said “Kiss the Cook,” and a bottle of Arthur Bryant barbecue sauce (he laughed at her confused look when she opened that one, promising that she’d understand one day.
He had Armani undershirts, silky soft to the touch, a new standing mixer in forest green, rubber spatulas with AFC Richmond embossed on them, new tea towels, a matching maroon scarf, gloves, and hat set, a Burberry wool coat, a book called “American’s Guide to Tea,” a pair of limited edition Nike’s that Rebecca insisted matched a pair she bought for Henry, too, and an apron that also said “Kiss the Cook,” which made him laugh so hard her smile made her face ache.
“Okay, this one is a little…different,” Ted said, passing a bigger box over to her, the movement of it so careful that Rebecca wasn’t sure how to open it, her hands gentle on the unknown box. “It’s not…I dunno, I’m talkin’ too much -”
“No you’re not,” she said, tearing the paper, the glass making her squint to see what was inside. She tugged the paper off and set it aside, her eyes taking in every detail of the glass box. It was pieces of scrap paper, the different advent calendar events written on them, a copy of their Nutcracker tickets, a picture of Somerset House, the little gnome she bought at Home Bargains on one of those first days.
“I thought maybe we did so much in such a short amount of time that it would be hard to remember one day,” he said when she didn’t speak. “So…you know, maybe this’ll help.”
“I love it,” she said softly. “I love it, Ted, thank you.”
The next gift she handed him was a receipt, folded down the middle. He tilted his head at it, making her smile.
“I got you a new bed,” she said sheepishly. “One of those great big ones.”
“Rebecca -”
“I figured if I put it down here near the tree, you would notice it,” she said in exasperation. “So it’s up in my guest room waiting to be moved into your flat.”
“That apartment isn’t that big,” he warned with a laugh.
“Then I guess you’ll have to sleep on it here,” she shrugged, ducking her head when he laughed. “Okay, I have two more for you, unless you -”
“Go ahead,” he said.
She took out her phone, clicking away on it, his phone pinging in his pocket. She nodded at it, giving him the silent permission to look. She watched his eyes drop to it, his smile widening.
“You sent me the list you made about me?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s not much, but you wanted to see it, and I realized that there was nothing about it that I should be ashamed of. It was just…an instinct.”
He looked down at it again. “Let him ramble if he’s nervous, he’ll get more nervous if you stop him,” he read out loud.
“Sometimes I need to be reminded,” she said.
“He’s never betrayed your trust,” he read, looking up at her. “Rebecca -”
“It’s true,” she said, the lump in her throat making her voice shake a little. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, that was supposed to be silly, not emotional -”
“Sorry, sorry,” he said.
“Okay, one more,” she said, catching his gaze and holding it. “Last one from me.”
He shifted a little on the sofa, his eyes following her hand as she reached for it.
“You know,” she said softly, looking down at the envelope in her hand, a golden bow tied around it. “All I’ve ever wanted, for every holiday, every birthday, every anniversary, more than any jewelry or material thing, was for someone to love me unconditionally.”
She watched his lips twitch in a sad smile.
“Because everyone has always shown me that love is always conditional. My parents, my friends, my husband.” Her fingers fiddled with the flap on the bow, a nervous tapping he wished he could stop. “In the end, all love is conditional.”
She looked up at him, eyes shining, and passed him the envelope. “And then I met you.”
He frowned, looking down at the manila envelope, looking back up at her before he opened it, taking the papers out.
“So at one time, I thought that you might decide to go back to Kansas when your contract was up,” she said as his eyes dropped to the papers. “I thought that I would give you something of Richmond to take with you, so you could always have a part of it -”
“These are ownership shares,” he said blankly.
“You saved Richmond,” she said. “And you saved me. It only felt right that you should have a say on how the club moves forward -”
“These are ownership shares,” he repeated.
“Those are the ones Bex had,” she explained. “I just put them in your name when Rupert gave them back.”
“So you’ve had them since -”
“Since my father’s funeral,” she said.
“You held onto them for that long?” he asked blankly. “You waited -”
“Waited until the right time,” she said with a laugh. “I thought maybe I’d give them to you when you were leaving to go back to Kansas, but…”
“I’m not goin’ back,” he finished. “I mean, beyond a visit -” she watched his eyes fall on the last gift, a little box on the edge of the table. “Okay…maybe this is…actually, I’m gonna stop overthinkin’ and I’m just gonna -” he reached for the box, passing it into her hands.
She realized the size of the box the moment it landed in her hand. “Ted,” she said, pulling the wrapping paper off. He didn’t answer her, not even when she was looking at the velvet ring box in her hand.
“I intended on givin’ this to you as a simple gift,” he said, her eyes lifting off the closed box. “But now, I think…”
She laughed a little as he got up from his seat, dropping down to his knee in front of her, his hand just reaching over to open the box. Inside was a gold ring, with a pale green stone, pear-shaped, the band delicate, little diamonds offsetting the green stone in a half halo.
“I thought that maybe I’d have a speech planned by the time we got here,” he admitted. “But I’ve noticed that you have a talent for makin’ me forget what I was gonna say -”
“Are you asking me to marry you?” she asked.
“If you’re sayin’ yes, then I am absolutely askin’ you to marry me,” he said, smiling when she laughed. “Unless you want me to ask the question, because I can -”
“The answer is already yes, you silly, perfect man,” she said, handing him the box. “Put it on me?”
She watched him take the ring out of the box, tears stinging her eyes, and she knew, the moment the band slipped over her knuckle, that the ring was going to fit. She wondered if he asked Keeley what her ring size was or if it was fate.
When he got up to kiss her on the lips, she decided to believe it was fate.
December 25
When she was a child, Rebecca would wake up at four in the morning on Christmas morning. She would creep downstairs to the tree, peering in the dark at the gifts and the tags, trying to figure out which gifts were new. Which ones had been left by Santa? Which ones had been left in the dead of night with her in mind?
One year, her parents forgot to put out the gifts from Santa, and the illusion had been shattered. It hadn’t been a painful shattering, really, but she remembered it every Christmas morning, when she woke to her alarm, the excitement a different flavor than it had been when she was a child.
This time, she woke to Ted pressing kisses to her bare shoulder, his hand holding her left hand, the ring glinting in the dim light. She smiled, pushing back into his embrace a little more, his chin hooking on her shoulder.
“Thought it might’ve been a dream,” he explained.
She shook her head. “No take-backs,” she teased.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
“Good,” she murmured, closing her eyes again. “Don’t get up yet.”
“Not goin’ anywhere,” he promised.
She thought maybe she’d drifted off to sleep again, halfway to a dream, the rhythm of Ted’s breathing matching her own. It was Christmas, but there was no urgency in it - it was any other day, the magic of it still there because of Ted, not because it was Christmas.
When she woke again, Ted was gone, her hand still resting on the pillow, the stone glinting in the light. She stared at it, a smile lingering on her lips - she reached for her phone, pulling it off the charger. She took a picture of the ring on her finger, sending it to Keeley with nothing else.
She waited until the message said Delivered and set the phone aside, getting out of bed, leaving the phone behind.
Ted was downstairs and waiting for her when she got there, dressed in khakis and a sweater, a cup of coffee in his hand, a cup of tea waiting for her.
“We have presents to deliver,” he said brightly as she picked up her tea. “We need fuel. Santa wouldn’t want us delivering gifts on an empty stomach.”
Delivering gifts took all day - it was house after house of grateful children, their smiles leaving Rebecca weightless in a different way than any gift ever had. Ted had a way with children that made her wish for things she could never have, a different life where she could have had him sooner, where they could have known each other longer, saved each other earlier.
But so much of her present, her reality, was perfect that even thinking about missed opportunities didn’t feel right - how they got here wasn’t as important as the fact that they were here, that they opened gifts together on Christmas Eve because they were too busy giving to other people on Christmas day.
She had a ring on her finger that represented a promise she actually trusted he would keep.
She had friends waiting for her at home, a little boy in her life who treated her like she was meant to be there with him. She had everything she wanted; what came before didn’t matter anymore.
When their bags of gifts were empty and their feet aching, she drove them to Leslie and Julie’s, his hand anchored in hers over the middle console, his fingers fiddling with the ring on her finger. She glanced over at it, smiling to herself when she remembered Keeley’s unanswered text messages in her phone, more and more emoji-laden, demanding an explanation for picture of her ring.
“Wouldn’t it be funny…” she said leadingly, Ted looking over at her expectantly, a half-smile on his face, waiting for her joke. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we eloped?”
His smile widened even while his eyes looked confused. “Eloped? When?”
She shrugged. “Today.”
He laughed, his hand squeezing hers gently. “I don’t think any drive-thru chapels are open today,” he admitted. “And we’d need a marriage certificate -”
“We can get that tomorrow,” she shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like it’s possible, anyway, but imagine. Our anniversary on Christmas, with no warning, no stress, no stupid arguments with other people about the cake or the food or the dress -”
“Higgins is an ordained minister,” he blurted, so suddenly she looked over at him in surprise. “I mean, his son is a priest, but I think they’ve got a whole bunch of extra hoops to jump through -”
“Seriously?” she asked. “Leslie?”
He nodded. “For the past three years, I think. Maybe more.”
She looked over at him again, turning down the street to Leslie’s house, the light falling into an orange sunset. “Ted, I was…I was joking, a little,” she said when they parked, catching his eye. “I mean, I would absolutely marry you today without a second thought, but I don’t want to throw what you want out the window -”
“All I want is you,” he promised. “All I’ve ever wanted is you. I think that gettin’ married on Christmas, with our friends and the team, is perfect.”
She grinned. “Well, I think we’re going to make one hell of an entrance.”
***
The first thing Rebecca said when she walked through the Higgins’ front door was, “Merry Christmas, Leslie, would you be willing to marry me and Ted?”
Ted, standing at her side, snorted, Leslie looking up from setting the table (the table in question a surfboard, a coffee table, a dining room table, and a pool table, all connected), his mouth open. Rebecca, in answer to his unasked question, lifted her left hand, where the ring glittered on her finger.
After a moment of stunned silence, all of the players, Leslie’s sons, his wife, Beard, Ruth, Keeley, and Roy all erupted in overlapping conversation, so loudly Ted nearly took a step back, Rebecca laughing gleefully beside him when Ruth ran to her side, holding out her hand to look at the ring, Keeley bounding up immediately after to swat at Rebecca’s hip, complaining about a text message, Beard grinning widely beside Roy, unmoved from their previous place.
It was absolute chaos.
“Congratulations, Coach,” Jamie said, clapping him on the back, Dani’s arm around his shoulders, a single scarf draped over both of them. “Well done, it’s about time.”
It was surprisingly simple - once Higgins realized that Rebecca was, in fact, not joking, he ushered all of them out into the street, Beard directing everyone into makeshift rows, an aisle in the middle, where the snow had piled up between the tracks of tires, Keeley on one side, Beard on the other, Higgins in the middle.
When he married her, she wasn’t wearing white - she was wearing a red sweater and a Christmas hat with furry boots, but her smile was the same as his dream, soft and sly like she knew what he was thinking, how far his promises extended beyond wedding vows.
She said “I do,” with a laugh in her voice, and he knew, the moment she said it, that he would hear that particular cadence for the rest of his life, the easy way she promised herself to him, the way she wanted it so much she couldn’t keep the happiness in her voice even.
He said “I do,” seriously enough that her smile faltered, and for a long moment, the giddiness of their surprise wedding was gone, and he knew she understood that he meant it, that even though they were doing something other people would see as reckless, he understood the gravity of the promise -
When she took his face in her hands and they had their first kiss as husband and wife, the cheers in the street were so loud she laughed, breaking away to catch her breath before she kissed him again, his hands winding around her waist to lift her up, spinning her in a circle before he set her down, her Christmas hat falling off.
She met him halfway for another kiss, and he knew that his time for wishing for something as simple as effort was done.