Page 67 of Full Court Crush
“I only tested when I started getting cravings for Marmite and ice cream.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah, I know.” Evie held up her hands. “I don’t even like Marmite. Won’t let it in the house. But TJ got it for me,” Evie said, placing a hand on TJ’s arm and looking lovingly into his eyes.
“And we’re just coming up to ten weeks. I know it’s early, but I didn’t want to lie to you anymore about why I wasn’t at training or games. Everyone else, on the other hand, will continue to be told I’m injured, for at least another two weeks.” Evie laughed, and Amelia couldn’t help but join in.
“Do your family know?”
“We’re telling them tomorrow. They’ll be over the moon.”
“I can imagine!” She pulled her friends in for another three-way hug before sitting back down. “Your parents will love being grandparents, and Jenna wasbornto be the cool Auntie.”
The good news was infectious, and Amelia’s face started to hurt from grinning so much.
They spent the rest of the evening talking about the upcoming new arrival, whether they had any baby names picked out, and Googling cute onesies the baby could wear to home games as the chief mascot. Amelia didn’t want to leave an environment so warm and full of love, but at around nine o’clock, Evie started to look exhausted, so she thought she better make her excuses. TJ and Evie both walked her to the door, still talking about baby outfits. Evie hugged Amelia tight and spoke into her ear.
“Text her, okay?” she whispered, before squeezing Amelia tightly.
“I’ll think about it,” she replied before letting go of her friend. “Congrats again, man,” she slapped TJ on the back as she hugged him. She was genuinely thrilled at the idea of her best friends becoming parents.
She reluctantly stepped outside and walked to her car, turning to wave as she got there. She climbed in before the cold air could freeze her hands. Starting the engine, she waited for the thin amount of condensation on the windshield to dissipate. Evie’s words echoed around her head. Finally, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, staring at the dark lock screen.
They were going to have to spend the rest of the season in close proximity, and that would be hard if they weren’t speaking to each other. She had always had fun when they had hung out, and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t have the largest pool of friends in the world. Expanding it, especially now TJ and Evie were about to have their hands full with a new baby, might be an idea. But could they do it? Could they go back to being just friends?
She squared her shoulders and unlocked her phone, navigated to the texting app, and quickly scrolled to the message thread she had with Keira. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard while the cursor blinked patiently at her, waiting. Her throat went dry.
Hey. Happy Christmas (eve).
I don’t want things to be weird between us. Could we meet for a coffee? Or a walk? I’ve enjoyed spending time with you over the last few months. We could continue to do that, as friends, if you're willing.
She read it over several times before pressing send, then placing her phone face down on the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t fixate on any notification she received back while driving. Taking a deep breath, she put the car in gear, trying not to think about the text whizzing its way through the ether to Keira’s phone. Would she want to meet up as friends? Would she reply at all? She’d been pretty clear in their conversation about her feelings, but they owed it to the team to at least try.
Amelia’s heart fluttered, lighter than it had been in days. She refused to admit how much she had missed Keira, even though it had only been a few days. But friends? She could do friends. Right?
Chapter 20
Keira
Keirawokeupearlyon Christmas morning, unsure if the text she’d received late last night was a present or a piece of coal. It had kept her awake, tossing and turning, as she fretted over what to do with the olive branch Amelia offered. She and Amelia had always got on well, and their easy banter and casual memes had added light to a pretty dark time in Keira’s life. However, now the line had blurred between friendship and something more, she didn’t know if they could ever go back. It wasn’t like they could undo seeing each other in the throes of orgasm, nor could Keira forget the way Amelia had ripped herself away under the gaze of others. She also couldn't forget the hurt in Amelia's eyes when she'd ended things. Hurt she'd caused.
She sighed and read over the text again, hoping this time there would be a single word that would tip the scale. But, as per the countless other times she’d read it, she still didn’t know what to do.
She started pulling the duvet off herself, hoping getting up and making herself busy would distract her, but the chill in the air sent her scurrying back into the warmth. She’d frugally turned her radiator off a few weeks ago. Instead, she scrolled social media and waited for the rest of the house to heat up, so she’d at least have somewhere warm to go when she finally left her cocoon.
An hour later, she dragged herself out of bed and shuffled over to her drawers. Inside, under a pile of pyjamas, was a present, carefully wrapped in festive paper and a silver bow stuck on the top. At the Christmas market, which had thankfully been just after she got paid, she had found the beautifully ornate, hand-carved chess set, with detailed wooden figurines and a decorative outside edge. The board folded to become storage for the pieces, decorative even when not in use. She smiled as she held the precious cargo.
She grabbed her dressing gown and wrapped it around herself before she exited the room, carrying the chess set carefully down the stairs. She put it under the tree before movement in the kitchen caught her attention.
“Dad?” she asked. “I didn’t hear you get up.”
“I can be sneaky when I want to be.” Her dad chuckled. “Cuppa?”
“Yes, please,” she responded, joining him in the kitchen. “Why didn’t you wake me? I could have started breakfast.”
“Everyone deserves a lie-in on Christmas Day. Especially you.” Warmth filled his eyes. She never needed any thanks from him, for all the sacrifices she had made. He didn’t need to say it with words.
“Merry Christmas, Dad.”