Page 25 of The Scrum-Half (Lincoln Knights #3)

Harper

Harper

I have a real hankering to make pizza today for me and Jack. Would you like one too? =D

Matty

Like make pizza from scratch?

Harper

Yeah! =D It’s super easy and really fun. Plus it’ll get Jack involved and I can make sure he puts veggies on it too.

Harper

I can either make one for you or you can do it when you get back.

Matty

That would be great, thanks! Just no mushrooms or green pepper please.

Harper

I’m on it. See you later!

Matty

Thanks sunshine

That was the second time he’d called me sunshine and just seeing the word made me smile. I’d never really been a big fan of pet names, but sunshine didn’t feel the same to me. It was different somehow.

But like so many of my other feelings towards Matty, I couldn’t explain it.

At some point I was going to have to confront the situation and deal with it, along with my swirling emotions and the consequences of my choices, but I was leaving that for as long as physically possible.

It was the first time in my life I hadn’t wanted to do the responsible thing and face everything head-on.

I hadn’t even told Marissa what we were doing when I’d seen her at Sophie’s house last weekend.

She, Sophie, and Leigh had asked endless questions about my job, Matty, and Jack, but I’d kept my answers super professional.

Even if all I’d wanted was to confess everything to them and ask what I should do.

Logically, I knew I couldn’t sneak around with Matty forever, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try. Being with Matty felt like I had a shot at the romantic relationship I’d always dreamed of, and I couldn’t be upset with myself for clinging on to it.

Hope was really all I had.

Shaking my head, I walked over to grab the aprons off the back of the kitchen door—a standard sized one for me and a small one for Jack so he could help make and knead the dough without completely coating himself in flour until he looked like Casper.

Although he would make a very adorable tiny ghost.

“Would you like to help me make some pizza dough?” I asked Jack as I held out his apron.

“Pizza?” Jack’s eyes shone with delight as he took the apron, tugging it over his head so fast it made his hair stand on end.

“Yeah, we’re going to make the dough now so it can rest and then later we’ll make pizza for tea.

And you can choose what you have on it. You could have cheese, ham, maybe some sweetcorn.

Pineapple is always nice too.” I would be an advocate for pineapple on pizza until I died and I wasn’t above trying to convince Jack to join team pineapple either.

Jack frowned. “Nineapple? That sounds yucky, Harper.”

“It’s very nice, though.”

Jack patted my leg gently and smiled at me sweetly, like he was trying to comfort me. “As long as you like it that’s okay.”

“Thanks, Jack,” I said, trying desperately not to laugh from what felt like the world’s most scathing put-down. Toddlers: they always knew how to hit you right where it hurt while giving you the most encouraging smile. It was a freaking gift.

“You’re welcome.”

I grinned, because that was new too. “Okay, let’s make some pizza so it’s ready when Daddy gets home.”

“Wait, he said what?” Matty asked, chuckling as he poured himself a small glass of whisky while I rolled us out two pizzas.

Matty’s was larger than mine, but I figured he needed the extra calories given how much he had to eat to maintain his muscle mass.

It was much later that evening, Jack was tucked up in bed, and the two of us were hanging out in the kitchen together.

If I squinted, I could almost have called it a date.

“As long as I like it, that’s okay,” I said with a grin as I stretched the dough out a little further before lifting it onto the prepped trays, because it was easier to put toppings on them like this. “I take it he’s learned his anti-pineapple ways from you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever offered it to him. Because I’m normal.”

“Er, excuse me? Pineapple on pizza is a God-tier combination. And this is coming from the man who hates mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms are slimy and weird,” Matty said as he sipped his whisky, giving me a teasing smile. “And they’re poisonous.”

“Not the ones you get from Tesco!”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

I chuckled and shook my head fondly as I grabbed the pizza sauce and began to spread it across the bases.

It was nice, spending time with him like this, just chatting about our days, our lives, and our weird thoughts about mushrooms. There was a warmth and comfortableness to it, like slipping on a cosy pair of slippers or wrapping myself in a blanket.

I’d had relationships that felt like this before, but not many. And yes, this technically wasn’t a relationship, but I didn’t know what else to call it.

It wasn’t like I’d said it out loud, so what did it matter what I called it in my own head?

“By the way, the baker emailed to confirm the deposit for Jack’s cake went through, so that’s all sorted, and I have all the invitations ready to hand out at nursery tomorrow.

Also, a friend of my sister Sophie is a party princess, and she could do Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas if you were interested?

I sent you her prices and checked her availability—she had a cancellation, so she’s available for Jack’s party, and she has a friend who does Jack Skellington who might be able to make it too.

She’d have to double-check. Or I found a guy who does dinosaur-themed parties and I gave him a call and apologised for the last-minute request, but he thinks he might be able to squeeze us in, especially since I said most of the guests are only three or thereabouts, so we’d probably only want an hour package at most.”

Trying to plan Jack’s party in less than a month was proving a little more stressful than I’d imagined, but I wasn’t going to tell Matty that.

I didn’t want him getting in his own head and thinking he was a bad dad for leaving it until now.

He had enough to worry about and I refused to make him feel worse.

Especially because I’d realised I liked planning the party, so despite the stress it wasn’t a hardship. I was having a lot of fun and I couldn’t wait to see Jack’s face when he saw everything. The theme was a bit of a mashup because he loved too many things to stick to one.

I’d have to find out when Matty’s birthday was and put my new skills to the test for him next.

“Damn, you’re nailing this party planning thing,” Matty said, seeming more impressed than upset.

“Thanks.”

“Do you think he’d like a party princess? I don’t really know what they do—I guess just turn up in character?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It depends on the package. It can include games, songs, things like that. And the dinosaur guy has posh puppets and it’s like an interactive show.”

Matty thought for a second. “What do you think?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah, I have an idea but I’d like your opinion.”

“Maybe get Sally this year since we’ve got a mostly Halloween theme, and then the dinosaur guy next year when he’s four,” I said. “I think he’ll get more out of the dinosaur party at that age, and we could get a bigger package. Make it a whole thing. As long as he still likes dinosaurs by then.”

“That was my thought too,” Matty said with a nod. “Are you okay to go ahead and book it?”

“Sure. Do you want to look at the price or packages?”

Matty pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly read the message I’d sent him.

Considering how anal he’d been about everything else in Jack’s life, I was almost picking myself up off the floor at his current relaxed attitude.

“They all look good,” he said. “He’s only three, so I don’t think anything longer than ninety minutes.

Maybe the hour? Whatever you think is best. I trust you. ”

“Okay, yeah. I think that would be great.” I smiled and tried not to let my voice waver. It surprised me how much it meant to hear those words from Matty, but they’d unravelled me. And I wasn’t sure how to put myself back together.

So instead, I focused on making pizza.

“Do you want to choose your toppings?” I asked, walking over to the fridge to retrieve the bowls of slightly massacred vegetables and meats that Jack had helped me prep earlier.

“I’m assuming Jack chopped these?” he asked as he looked at the bowl of red pepper slices.

“Yes.”

“Thought so,” he said fondly. “I’ve seen worse, though. His coordination is getting better.”

“It really is. And he had fun doing it. Anything that’s left I can use in something tomorrow, maybe a pasta bake or a salad.”

“Sounds good.” He picked up some of the shredded mozzarella and began to apply it liberally.

“Hey, I know Sunday is your day off, but if you don’t have any plans, I was going to make a big roast dinner if you want to join us.

I might take Jack to the leisure centre too, because they have a kids area with slides and fountains, and he loves it.

It’s not quite the beach but it’s close enough.

But, er, I’m sure you have plans that don’t involve spending more time with… ”

He trailed off, like he didn’t quite know what to say. But I did.

“Sure, I’d love that,” I said, reaching out and brushing my fingers against his. “Swimming is one of my favourite things, and I will never say no to a good roast.”

“Perfect, and I promise no crack of dawn wake-up.” He leant closer, tilting his head to brush his lips across mine. “And if you wake up, you have to stay in bed.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll find a way to keep you there.”

I grinned and kissed him teasingly. “Promises, promises.”

“Someone’s feeling sassy tonight,” he said with a raised eyebrow, putting a hand on my waist to drag me closer.

“A little.” I nudged his nose with mine and kissed him again, letting my tongue slide into his mouth. “You should sneak up to my room at some point. I’m good at being quiet, especially if you put me on all fours with my arse in the air so I can bury my face in the pillows.”

Matty groaned, his hand tightening on my waist as he kissed me fiercely. “I’d miss all the pretty sounds you made for me, but it would be worth it to slide my cock into that tight arse of yours.”

“Mmm, see? You should definitely sneak in one night.”

He hummed, then pulled back to look at me with a deep frown, concern evident in his eyes. “With your joints… does it make penetration harder? Are there certain positions you can’t do?”

“Er, yeah, actually there are. I mean, I can still do them but sometimes not for long. And I can just push through, but—”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“If it’s hurting you, why would you push through?”

“Well, er, I…” I sighed. Of course Matty would say that, because he was a selfless doughnut.

How did I explain to him that I often dismissed my own pain because I was used to it or I didn’t want to put myself first or make it seem like I was weak, broken, or being ridiculous. Nobody had ever told me I was, but somehow I’d managed to internalise those thoughts.

I’d known I was hypermobile since about the age of nine, when the doctor had told my mum I’d probably grow out of it.

I hadn’t, obviously, and eventually I’d figured out what I could and couldn’t do and how it affected me.

But half the time I still forgot it was a thing or pretended it wasn’t until it caught up with me.

And as funny as it was to have joints that did things they shouldn’t, I sometimes hated the fact that the wrong shoes could make my ankles swell to the size of golf balls or one intense sex session in the wrong position would make my hips ache and burn so badly I could barely walk.

I just wanted to live the way I wanted, without having to think about how much my body would punish me for it afterwards.

Maybe I shouldn’t have thought that, but there were days I did. And I never quite knew how to deal with the feeling. Internalised ableism was a sneaky, powerful thing, creeping into my brain and catching me by surprise when I didn’t expect it, no matter how much work I put in to try and undo it.

“Sometimes it’s because everything else feels good and I don’t want to stop,” I said.

“Sometimes it’s because I’m worried if we do stop, I wouldn’t actually be able to continue, even if we change position, because my legs will start shaking and I’ll be in pain and then sex will be the last thing on my mind. ”

I sighed and rubbed my face. “Sometimes it’s because I want to pretend my body isn’t like this, especially because I know it will probably get worse as I age.

When I was a teenager or in my early twenties, I could ignore it but now…

I’m only twenty-seven. I know there’s no age requirements for these things, but I don’t want to think about how my joints are already held together with stretched-out Sellotape and a prayer.

It sounds silly, and I know ignoring it doesn’t help, but… sometimes I wish I was different.”

Matty put his arms around me and pulled me against him, tucking his head under my chin and letting me rest on him.

“I’m sorry, it must be hard. I get it a little, not because I’m hypermobile but because I’ve put my body through the wringer to the point I know it’s broken.

It probably doesn’t help but my body might be even more fucked up in five years.

I try and ignore it too, but it doesn’t always help.

But making a career out of a sport known for its intense physicality and injuries was my choice and yours wasn’t. ”

“Thanks.” His empathy helped, because maybe he did understand, at least a bit. “Although I’m pretty sure doing three-day EDM festivals in shitty Primark trainers hasn’t helped, and those were definitely my choice. If I go again, I know I need to wear ankle supports and insoles.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a music festival,” he said. “Maybe we could try one together one day? I’m not camping, though. My back is too fucked up to spend four days in a tent. Not unless it’s one of those really posh ones—I could do that.”

“Tomorrowland does do some very fancy packages, if you ever fancied a weekend in Belgium.” I was half-teasing and half-serious, not sure how to process the casual way Matty was suggesting we do a festival together.

We still hadn’t talked about what we were to each other, but it was obviously something.

“Sounds fun,” he said, tilting his head back so he could lean up to kiss me.

And just like that I realised I was in too deep.

But there was no going back now.

It was either swim or drown.