Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,88

it was different for me. "Do you think Noah will propose soon?"

Her eyes sparkled happily. "I do. I overheard him asking Paige something about her ring, and he didn't realize I was in the next room."

"Molly!"

It was her turn to squeal. "I know!"

"Promise me something," I said, gripping her hands with mine.

Her eyes got big at my grave tone. "What?"

"Please try not to get married like, the week of my due date. Because then my options are being as big as a whale in your wedding pictures or missing it because I'm in labor and I don't particularly like either option."

She laughed. "How about we wait until he proposes first, then I can worry about setting a date." Molly nudged me under the table with her knee. "Look at you, Lee, planning ahead and everything. Did you swap personalities with Claire?"

"I know, I know."

"Ready to go?" Molly asked.

"Yeah. I told Paige I'd help her make the dough tonight for family dinner."

"Oooh. Pizza?"

I nodded. "Little Banana wants some."

"Another reason me and that kid are going to get along just fine."

I followed Molly out of the cafe and found myself glancing back at my phone screen. Wanting that glimpse felt a little bit like his tease about being addicted to scones. Two months away from Jude, and I still craved the pieces I could get. Even though the picture was in thumbnail, I stared at his face, wishing that any planning I did could include a clearer picture of what role he'd have in my life, in Little Banana's life.

But as February came to a close, and March dawned a little warmer, a little less gloomy, we stayed exactly in the same place—getting to know each other—and I knew that I'd have to be okay with that.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jude

I'd learned a lot as winter thawed into an early spring in England. Not all things I wanted to learn, mind you, but I'd learned them all the same.

First, it was entirely possible to sit out of a game and still feel the amount of pressure you felt when you were starting. And losses hurt just as bad from that vantage point as well.

Second thing I learned was that I yelled. A lot.

The starting players began calling me Boss, and not necessarily as a term of endearment. My manager normally just looked back at me with raised eyebrows as he calmly watched us navigate through the middle of the season in complete and utter fucking mediocrity.

"Get your head out of his arse, Williams," I bellowed. "Learn how to clear the ball."

"Do you want to stand here?" Conworth asked dryly with a quick glance over his shoulder.

"No, but if you don't do your bloody job, I will," I muttered. The young player next to me must've heard me because he snorted.

I gave him a look, and his cheeks reddened.

Third, I learned with complete and utter fucking clarity that Lia might've been thousands of miles away from me, but I couldn't get her out of my head for a single second. It was hell.

And the reason it was hell was because I couldn't do anything about it, except try to forge a friendly truce until the season was over.

In the locker room after the match, a 1-1 draw against Aston Villa, I sat on the bench in front of my cubby and stared down at my phone.

She'd started sending me “bump pics” as she called them. Always right in the middle of our weekly phone calls.

I hated them.

I loved them.

She was changing, somehow getting more and more beautiful with each centimeter she grew, and I felt very much like I was staying the same.

"What's got your balls in a bunch?" Declan asked, tossing his dirty kit onto the floor and tightening the towel around his waist. "You yelled even more than normal today, which is impressive, considering how much you yelled the week before. Conworth is going to be out a job not because he can't win, but because you're going to take it from him."

I ignored that because I didn't want to coach. I wanted to play. I didn’t want to be sitting on the bench in any facet of my life, and I seemed doomed to that position.

Waiting on an opportunity to play

Waiting for calls.

Waiting for pictures.

Waiting for something to happen so I could shove the door open and see what was on the other side.

I scrolled back up to the last few pictures she'd sent, all in front of the same long mirror in