a long sip before her eyes widen. “How was the friendly match on Saturday? I heard everyone talking about it at the charity event.”
“Decent.” Sitting back, I appreciate the change in topic. “I don’t go to all the matches, but I oversaw the contract negotiations on a couple of the new recruits. I was curious how they looked, so I sat in the suite and watched.”
She nods thoughtfully. “And did they look good?”
“I’d say so, yes. I’m no football coach or anything, though. Just a genuine fan with a vested interest in the club. And I love the atmosphere at Tower Park. There are far worse ways to spend a Saturday in Bethnal Green.”
“You know, I never got to see Mac play there before I moved back to Dundonald,” she replies, catching my eyes on her and then looking away quickly. “I saw him play for Rangers, of course, and that was amazing, but he always spoke so fondly of Tower Park. He said the energy was like nothing he’d ever experienced in all the clubs he played for. I should have made it a priority to visit the stadium when I lived here. It’s one of my biggest regrets.” I notice a dark look sweep across her face, but she quickly masks it with a polite smile.
“You should have seen a match when three of the four Harris Brothers all played together,” I say, changing the subject because I can tell she’s worried she shared too much. “Whenever one of the twins would score, Booker would always run out of the goalie net all the way across the pitch to celebrate with Tanner and Camden. Vaughn used to get so angry, telling Booker to save his legs, but deep down, you could tell he was chuffed. They are a fun family to watch on the pitch.”
Tilly gets a curious look on her face. “Allie calls you family, so you must be quite close with the Harrises.”
“I guess you could say I’m close with Vaughn.” I pause briefly as I think about the quiet, contented bond we’ve formed throughout the years. It’s mostly work-related, but there’s a comfort between us. An unspoken trust. And he may not know this, but I’ve always admired how fiercely protective he is of his children. Losing his wife when all five of his kids were so young couldn’t have been easy. And I’ve gathered from Gareth that they all went through some very dark years. But you’d never know that by looking at them now. “I used to be closer to the brothers when we were younger, as you may recall. But now things have changed. The Harris family are all single-handedly working to repopulate London, it seems.”
Tilly smiles and manages to look carefree for a moment. Our eyes hold each other briefly, and suddenly, her face falls as she points nervously to the coffee shop. “This coffee is amazing, and those Danishes inside look braw.”
“They taste as they look. I come here quite a bit and have to work out twice as hard as a result.” I drag my finger around the edge of my coffee mug to give me something to focus on besides Tilly’s stunning blue eyes. “The owner is a huge Bethnal Green fan, too.”
“That’s nice. I feel like I still have a lot of spots to see on this side of town. I usually try to stay in the house on weekdays in case Freya needs something. But on the weekends when Mac isn’t working, I’m out as much as possible so the two of them can have some alone time. I’ve found some great places already. It’s crazy how many things you notice when you walk around on your own rather than in a group that insists on going to the same spots over and over.” She bites her lip nervously, and I find myself frowning at the thought of Tilly eating by herself.
“Have you not reconnected with your old mates that you used to run around with? What were their names? Wasn’t there a girl named Jam or Maple?”
“Honey,” Tilly corrects, and her face spreads into a genuine smile as she attempts to cover her giggle.
I can’t help but laugh myself because watching her try not to laugh is a beautiful sight. A sight that I wish I didn’t enjoy so much.
She finally composes herself and swipes haphazardly at the tears in her eyes. “Her name was Honey, and she was a cunt.”
“Ouch,” I exclaim with my