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Trent is just rounding the corner of Richmond Green, on his way home from work, when he hears “Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Trent Crimm, the Independent?” from the direction of the Crown and Anchor. When he turns to look, Ted is sitting at one of the tables out front with Coach Beard and Roy Kent and as much as Trent would like to keep on walking and avoid...whatever is about to happen here, his feet carry him across the street as soon as Ted starts waving him over.
“No Georgie today?” Ted asks, and Trent shakes his head.
“She’s with my parents for the weekend.”
Ted slides over on the bench, making room. “Join us!”
Roy looks at Ted like he has three heads. Beard looks at Trent like he knows exactly what’s going on here. Trent looks at Ted, beaming up at him, and sits.
“Every single fucking word is off the fucking record.” Roy barks, glaring at him.
“Don’t mind him,” Ted says. “He’s just feeling a bit vulnerable. Buying an engagement ring will do that to a fella.”
“I’m not feeling anything except hungry,” Roy insists.
“It has been awhile since we ordered,” Beard agrees.
“I’ll go check on things. Trent, you want a drink? It’s definitely my turn to buy you one.”
“Sure,” Trent agrees. He’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he hears Roy growl at him.
As Ted stands, Trent realizes his mistake. Ted going to buy him a drink means Ted leaving Trent alone with Roy and Beard. Under normal circumstances, he might relish the opportunity to ask a few questions about the strategy for next season, but Roy already squashed that and making small talk with these two seems nigh on impossible.
“Back in a jiff,” Ted says, “Y’all have fun.”
Trent can think of about a thousand things more fun than having Roy Kent glare at him in awkward silence for five minutes. “So you’re getting engaged?” he asks.
“Only if Keeley says yes,” Roy says, his tone communicating he thinks Trent is especially stupid.
“Is that in question?”
“No,” says Beard at the same time that Roy says, “Maybe.”
Beard frowns, skeptically, and shakes his head at Trent.
“She’s very independent,” Roy snaps. “She might not want to get married.”
“Don’t know unless you ask,” Trent says.
“Have you ever been married?” Roy asks, and somehow the subtext is still fuck off.
“No,” Trent says. “I was engaged but we split before there was a wedding.”
Roy blinks, like this particular possibility has not occurred to him. “Why?”
“We discovered we had rather significant differences of opinion about children.” Trent doesn’t feel the need to elaborate beyond that, not for Roy and Beard’s sake, anyway.
“Me and Keeley are on the same page about all that.”
“Puts you a far sight ahead of me and Graham, then.”
Ted returns carrying Trent’s pint and somehow balancing three orders of fish and chips as well.
“Thought I’d save Mae the trip,” Ted says, handing off Trent’s pint and everyone’s dinners. “She didn’t believe I could carry it all, but back in college I was employee of the month at the Doo-Dah Diner in Wichita eighteen months running.”
Roy snorts but makes no further comment. Ted sits down next to Trent again and slides his fish and chips into the space between them. “Help yourself. Shoulda asked if you wanted anything else.”
Trent takes a chip and eats it under intense scrutiny from both Roy and Beard. Ted either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the way this feels like some kind of meet the parents farce.
“So, Roy,” Ted grins, “when’s the big day?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Soon,” Ted says gleefully.
“I’m not gonna be one of those pricks who carries the ring around for six months,” Roy says.
“It took me at least that long to propose to Michelle,” Ted says. “Had the ring hidden in my sock drawer. She asked me what took me so long before she even said yes. Turns out she’d found it the week I bought it.”
“What was it, then?” Roy asks, still gruff, but Trent can see the difference in Roy Kent when he’s fond of someone, the way his expression softens with his tone.
“Nerves, mostly,” Ted admits. “And also there was this whole thing with her daddy and him wanting to give his blessing but not wanting to give it to me.” Ted shrugs. “We got there in the end.”
“Stupid fucking tradition,” Roy grumbles around a mouthful of fish.
“It was important to Michelle,” Ted says cheerfully enough, but there’s something about the tightness of his mouth in the corners that Trent recognizes, a hint that Ted isn’t being wholly truthful. He takes another chip, and then a piece of Ted’s fish because he is actually hungrier than he thought. Ted shoots him a smile and Trent can’t help smiling back.
“You did offer this time,” Trent points out.
“Mrs. Higgins noticed I was three madeleines short of two dozen.” Ted says, mock accusingly.
“Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone?” Roy explodes. “Will someone explain what the actual fuck is going on right now?”
“What he said,” Beard agrees. “And don’t try to tell me you joined an improv group.”
Ted’s mouth twitches like he wants to laugh, so Trent assumes that’s some sort of inside joke between the coaches. He glances over at Trent, a question in his eyes. Trent nods.
“All right, I’ve been feeling sneaky not telling y’all about this anyway,” Ted says. “But I’d appreciate it if it could stay between us for now.” Beard and Roy both nod. “Part of my, uh, therapy with Dr. Sharon has been dealing with my father’s death. I didn’t spend much time on it when it happened because I was mostly just angry.” Ted pauses, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his Richmond zip-up. Trent recognizes the tell now, the sign he’s starting to get uncomfortable, his anxiety creeping up on him. He shifts slightly, pressing his knee against Ted’s under the table. Ted sneaks him a glance and presses back with his own knee. “He killed himself. And I’m not very good at talking about it. The doc thought it would help to go to a grief support group. Trent happens to attend the same one. Funny coincidence or small world or something like that.” Ted lets out a shaky exhale. “He’s been a real friend.”
As Ted talks, Roy and Beard’s expressions shift from stunned to concerned, and Beard’s hand twitches, like he wants to reach across the table and clap Ted on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Roy says, and maybe Trent shouldn’t be, but he’s surprised how genuine it sounds. “Both of you,” he adds, looking at Trent with something approaching sympathy.
“Thank you for telling us,” Beard adds.
Trent wonders if he was too hasty, deciding not to write his follow-up article about Ted and Richmond. There’s something special here, a kindness and respect that is increasingly rare in every workplace but in professional sport especially. But, Ted’s knee is still pressed up against his own, and Trent doesn’t want to move for fear Ted will pull away, and he has his answer in the way that feels far more important than any article he would write.
Things get a bit easier after Ted’s confession. Beard and Roy stop glaring daggers at Trent across the table, some of the tension seeps out of Ted’s shoulders as he and Beard start teasing Roy about actually having bought three engagement rings so Keeley has choices, and Trent finds he’s quite enjoying himself.
“But what if she likes all of them?” Beard asks.
“Fuck, I’ll buy her a ring for every day of the week if she says yes.”
“That’s true love right there,” Ted says.
“Or a man with more money than sense,” Trent chimes in, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to end up with Roy’s drink thrown in his face.
Instead, Roy grins and says, in almost the same tone he’s been using with Beard and Ted, “Fuck off, Trent.”
Beard is the first one to leave, jumping to his feet when he notices the time and saying something about Jane and tapas before dashing away. Roy only stays long enough after that to finish his pint.
“I should go, I promised Phoebe she could see the rings tonight.”
“Can’t let Phoebe down.” Ted nods. “Best of luck tomorrow.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Roy says grudgingly, and Ted beams, delighted.
And then it’s just Ted and Trent, side by side, knees still touching under the table. “Another round?” Trent offers but Ted shakes his head.
“I’m still feeling a little...iffy,” he admits. “Turns out alcohol and panic attacks, not a great combo.”
“No,” Trent says, “I imagine not. A walk, then?” He’s not quite ready to go home to his empty house.
“Sure,” Ted agrees.
For the first few minutes they walk in comfortable silence around the outer edge of the Green. The sky is turning orangey pink with the start of a sunset that’s shaping up to be rather lovely, and Richmond is bustling with Friday night dinner goers, many of them sitting at tables outside, enjoying this tiny sliver of proper summer weather.
“Hey there, Shannon,” Ted says to a teenage girl approaching from the opposite direction. “Haven’t seen you lately.”
“Summer job,” she huffs. “No time for showing you up on the pitch, gotta save money for university.”
“Where are you working?” Ted asks. “We can always use an extra hand over at Nelson Road.”
“Ha,” Shannon scoffs, “I’m not here for washing a bunch of spoiled football players' kits. Making coffees at Costa suits me just fine.” She glances over at Trent and her eyes go round. “You’re Trent Crimm, you write for the Independent!”
“That he does.” Ted grins. “Trent, Shannon; Shannon, Trent.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Shannon.”
“I really liked that article you wrote about Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo. I wish people would tell the league off like that more often.”
“Thank you,” Trent says. “Me, too.”
“Me, three,” Ted says and Shannon shakes her head in exasperated amusement.
“I gotta go, Mum’s expecting me.”
“Nice to see ya, Shannon,” Ted calls after her as she jogs away. “Great babysitter,” Ted says to Trent. “Henry still talks about her.”
They continue their walk toward the river and Trent asks, “Beard and Roy know about your panic attacks?”
“And Nate and Higgins and Rebecca,” Ted confirms. “Secrets and Lies is a great movie but not a good strategy for a functional team. Also, as you’ve spotted, I’m not very good at hiding them. That food poisoning excuse really only works once.”
“Barely worked the first time,” Trent agrees.
Ted elbows him playfully. “You’re the only one who called my bluff, so I’m considering it a success.”
Trent’s mobile rings in his pocket and he pauses to retrieve it. “Sorry, it’s Evelyn.”
“No worries,” Ted says, putting his hand on Trent’s elbow and steering them both out of the path of an oncoming jogger.
Trent answers. “Is everything all right, Evie?”
“Everything’s fine. Someone just wants to say goodnight,” his stepmother says, and there’s a rustling as the phone changes hands before Georgie’s voice is in his ear, low and sleepy. “Daddy, I love you more than ice cream and cats.”
“More than ice cream and cats?” Trent smiles. “I definitely love you more than cats. I’m not sure about ice cream, though, I’ll have to think about it.”
“Silly Daddy.” Georgie yawns.
“Night night, Georgie.”
“Pillow,” she says, yawning again.
“More than cats, huh? Stiff competition,” Ted says, after Trent has said good night to Evelyn too and re-pocketed his phone. “This reminded me...I won’t be at grief group tomorrow.”
“Everything all right?”
“Oh yeah, it’s just Henry’s weekend home between his summer camps, so we’re going to FaceTime, get caught up.”
“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” Trent blurts, the words escaping his mouth before he can second-guess himself. “Georgie will still be with my parents, we can order a takeaway. Maybe watch a film.”
“Sure thing,” Ted says, smiling easily at him. “That’ll be good. Something to look forward to, keep me from missing Henry quite so much once we hang up. Should I bring anything?”
“Just yourself is fine,” Trent says.
“I’ll think of something. Don’t like to show up empty-handed.”
Trent doesn’t say what he’s thinking, that Ted could show up with a bin bag full of the team’s dirty laundry and Trent would still invite him in and offer him use of his washing machine. He would do just about anything, he thinks, to keep Ted in his orbit.
“That was brave of you, telling Roy and Beard,” Trent says softly, as they follow the path along the riverbank.
“It’s getting easier, talking about it,” Ted admits. “I’m not as angry. I’m just...really fuckin’ sad.”
Ted curses so rarely that it hits Trent like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. “I know,” he says.
“Really sneaks up on you sometimes, huh?” Ted says. “The sadness. I can be having a perfect day and then, pow! It pops out from behind a corner, out of nowhere. Like a way less fun version of Gotcha.”
“I find it’s more like a sinkhole: what you thought was solid ground underfoot just slides away with no warning.”
“Phew, it’s like you’re a writer or something,” Ted says. “You ever get stuck on everything your sister is missing? My life’s gotten so much bigger than my dad could’ve even imagined, I think. Sometimes I just want to hear what he thinks.”
“Daily,” Trent says, swallowing hard around a sudden lump in his throat. “There’s nothing like a child to put the passage of time on display. Viv was so excited to be a mum. I feel like Georgie ended up with the second rate version, some days.”
“Hey now,” Ted frowns at him. “You’re a first rate dad, Trent Crimm. I won’t let anybody say different, even you.”
“I never wanted children,” he admits. “My fiancé and I split up over it, about two years before Georgie was born. I’m sure Graham is laughing himself silly about it now.”
“I doubt that, unless he was a real piece of work.”
“No,” Trent sighs. “He was lovely. Never even said I told you so when I ran into him with Georgie when she was about six months old. He was so sure that it would be the right thing for us, being parents, and I never was. It always felt like too big of a risk. You can’t return a baby if it doesn’t fit.”
“It would be too much of a cliche to quote the Rolling Stones here, right?” Ted asks.
“Even for you,” Trent agrees and Ted laughs. “Georgie is a ray of fucking sunshine in my life, sometimes the only one. The day she said ‘dada’ for the first time, it was the best feeling in the world and the worst, simultaneously. Up until then, I was sure I wanted her to call me Uncle Trent. But I feel so guilty sometimes, like I stole Viv’s spot.” Trent clears his throat, determined not to start crying in the street for all and sundry to see.
Ted stops and turns to face him. He reaches out, his hands curling gently around Trent’s upper arms. “You didn’t steal her spot. Life threw you the meanest curveball it could, and you still stepped up to the plate and hit it out of the goddamn park.”
“Is this a baseball metaphor?” Trent says, a little wetly. “It’s like you’re a coach or something.”
Ted smiles and squeezes Trent’s arms lightly. It would be so easy, just a matter of a step, to close the distance between them, to lean up and kiss him. He wants to, badly, has wanted to for months if not longer, maybe even since that first day in the press room. Ted is looking at him with the same sort of intent, his eyes dark, and—
His phone dings three times, in rapid succession, startling them both. Ted smiles sheepishly and lets go of Trent’s arms, the moment truly broken. “Probably just Michelle,” Ted says, “letting me know Henry got home okay.”
Trent nods and puts his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing Ted by the front of his Richmond zip-up and tugging him back.
“Oh,” Ted says, and a grin spreads across his face. He hands Trent his phone. Trent reads the messages on the screen.
Keeley knew something was up soon as I walked through the door
She said yes
Don’t you dare tell Trent Crimm but she thought three rings was overkill
Trent laughs, vindicated.
Ted’s phone dings again, a new message appearing on the screen.
You handed him the fucking phone, didn’t you?
No comment, Trent types back. And congratulations.
Ted peers over his shoulder. “Well, he’s gonna know that was you. I would’ve used at least seven exclamation points.”
On cue, another message comes through. Fuck off, Trent.
“He likes you.” Ted nods. “I bet you score a wedding invite and everything.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Trent says, handing back Ted’s phone.
“I bet you five bucks—sorry, five pounds—you end up invited to Roy and Keeley’s wedding.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Trent says, and they shake on it.