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Ted Lasso loves the feeling of an empty shop, the bare shelves lined with a thin layer of dust, the floor that needs to be swept, the windows that need washing. He loves it because he can see what it could be: sunlight streaming in, baked goods in baskets lined with bright clothes, people filling the space with light and laughter and peace. He can see it all, standing in the open door. All the potential, just waiting for him.Henry comes barreling in, breaking the moment, but Ted doesn’t mind, ruffling his hair as he moves past. “There’s like ten kids just playing out in the park! And one of them has a dog that can push the soccer ball around with his nose! And Uncle Beard showed me where he likes to get lunch and says he’ll take me there if you gotta get to work.” His cheeks are pink with exertion, eyes happy and excited, and it makes Ted feel a little relief, just a reminder that Henry’s life isn’t ruined, that this ten year old can see potential too.He doesn’t like how much they’ve moved around, doesn’t know what will make him feel settled. Henry’s used to being the new kid in school, telling everyone on his first day that his dad is the best baker in the whole world, handing around a plate of cookies if the teacher says it’s okay. He’s also the kid without a mom, and Ted knows there’s teasing about that, but Henry is affable and well-adjusted and shrugs it off, finds other crafts to do when his class makes Mother’s Day cards, earnestly pays attention to the other kids’ moms when they come to class help out or take them on field trips. He always comes home to fresh cookies and milk and a grin on his face, and that makes Ted feel better.This is their biggest move, coming to a whole new country, leaving the ol’ US of A behind for life across the pond, Ted’s oldest friend Beard’s suggestion for a change of pace. Ted just hopes it sticks, hopes this might be the place that makes his hands stop shaking, that makes his mind calm, that this is the place that lets him rest.“I’m just gonna start on the cleaning. You can help if you want, or you can go hang with Beard, I don’t mind,” Ted says to his son, and Henry tilts his head to the side.“Can I wipe down the shelves?” he asks, and Ted grins, knows it’s his favorite chore, the way he likes to make straight lines as he wipes away the dust, methodical and careful and maybe he sprays too much of the dusting stuff and it’ll be a strong lemon scent for a day or so, but there’s worse things than that.When the day is done, when the sun is setting, the empty shop looks like new, and Ted thinks about what he wants to bake first, makes a list of all the things he needs to buy, his brain practically whirring as he works through the logistics. He lays in bed, wide awake while Henry snores softly, lightly, next to him. The apartment (flat he tries to remind himself) above the shop is small, just the one bedroom, but they’re used to sharing, and the bed is big enough for two. Ted closes his eyes, willing sleep to come, tries to let the comforting presence of his son, close by and safe, pull him towards slumber. -Naming his bakery every time he starts over is the fun part. He looks around the neighborhood, sees the people, sees what they like, who they are, tries to find a name for the shop that fits. He sees people wearing bright red and blue jerseys, sees scarves and jackets and signs with the crest of AFC Richmond, learns their mascot is the greyhound. He watches kids playing soccer (football is the mental reminder that comes a moment too late) with Kent and Tartt and Obisanya written across their backs. There’s a pub across the way that smells like fries and fish at night, and he sees people sitting out at picnic tables with pints of beer. He thinks he and Beard will take Henry over some night soon, hopes the fish is wrapped in newspaper. Ted writes “Honeyhounds Bakery” in strong bold letters, blue writing on a yellow background, and hangs the sign in the window. And then he moves behind the shop counter and begins to mix some dough. It’s calming, to sift flour and knead dough. To know what steps come next and what’s expected, no surprises. He rolls out croissants and shapes loaves. He makes cookies and reminds himself to call them biscuits, shaves chocolate bars and adds cinnamon sugar, dusts things with confectioner’s sugar, the air dancing with powder. He props open the door while he bakes, hopes the aroma wafts out to passersby. “Why is it passersby and not passerbys?” Henry asks, a finger inching towards a chocolate chip cookie, and Ted slides it closer to him.
“‘Cause there’s only one way to go by but a lotta people that might be passing,” he says, spooning dough onto a baking sheet, shrugging his shoulders. He doesn’t really know but it makes as much sense as anything else. He likes the word. Passersby. Passersby. He almost gets stuck in repeating it when the bell on the door jangles.“Hello!” Henry is the best greeter anyone could ask for, head popping up for anyone and anything that comes by, as easy to make friends as his father is, but ten times as adorable, especially with a tooth missing. “Oh, uh, hello.” It’s a shorter man with black hair and a tracksuit jacket zipped up tight, even though it’s not very cold outside.“Howdy,” Ted says, with a nod. “I’m Ted Lasso, owner of this here bakery, and we’ve got Henry right there on the stools.” He tilts his head, but there’s a long silence, where he’s just staring at their new customer and he’s staring back. “And your name is…?” “Oh, right. Right. It’s N-nathan. Nathan Shelley.” He seems remarkably nervous for all that they’re just in a bakery but Ted just grins. “I’d shake your hand, but,” and he lifts dough covered fingers. “Also, these are just for Henry. I wear gloves when I’m makin’ for the store. Don’t worry.”“Ah, that’s good, I suppose,” Nathan says, inching further into the shop. “What can I get you?” Ted asks then, watching as Nathan looks at the shelves full of biscuits and breads and pastries. “I don’t know, there’s just…there’s so much here,” he says, eyes a little wide. “Mmm, let’s see. Why not try one of these plum cakes?” Ted says, wiping his hands off, gesturing towards a tray to the left of the counter, small tins with delicately sliced plums resting on top of the dough. “I learned the recipe when I was getting ready to come to merry old England. Y’all really like your fruits over here.” “Oh, I love a plum cake,” Nathan says as he reaches for the tongs resting gently next to the baked goods. “My mum makes them every year at Christmas, almost makes my dad smile. They’re my favorite.”“I thought it might be,” Ted nods. “On the house, for your first visit. Good to meet you, Nate.” He slides a small napkin and a little paper bag across the counter. “Come back any time, you’re always welcome.” Nathan gives Ted a small smile, slips the little cake into the bag and steps back outside, pausing only to take a bite once he’s outside, and Ted can see the way his eyes close, the way that smile widens at the taste.“I don’t like the plum cakes all that much,” Henry says, twirling on the stool. “They’re bitter inside, even though they look all nice and sweet on the outside.”“Well that’s just what some people like, kiddo,” Ted says. “Everyone’s got a favorite.”“Hmmm,” is all Henry says, and Ted just smiles fondly at him. At least he knows enough not to say things like that when other people are around. Henry takes a bite into his cookie and grins around the crumbs. “Well, I’m glad these are my favorite and not a cake with plums in it.” -Henry starts school and Ted spends his days in the bakery, learning the people who come by. There’s Keeley, who always gravitates towards the things with sprinkles, but he can tell there’s more to her than flash and sparkle. He’s got a little bit of a menu going - things that he wants to make and serve but won’t do well in the bakery cases. Keeley likes the lava cakes, dark and imposing on the surface but with a warm and gooey center when you cut right through it. “You’re going to have to serve tea, you know,” she says one morning, late enough that there’s not a lot of people moving by, not a lot of foot traffic, and she’s perched with a birthday cake cookie - she’s told him that it’s too American to be a biscuit so he can keep his name for it. “Hmm, why’s that?” Ted’s back is to her, rolling butter out into a flat sheet with strong, determined movement. “You can’t serve baked goods without tea, Ted. It’s practically sacrilegious! Am I just supposed to drink tap water like some kind of cretin?” She delicately coughs as if to prove a point and Ted can’t hide the grin. He likes Keeley, likes how friendly she is, how kind. But also that she’s smart and a little bit cheeky - one of his favorite new British vocabulary words. “Besides, I keep telling my friend Rebecca about this place and if she comes here and can’t get a cuppa, I think she’ll have a conniption. I’m just trying to watch out for you.”“I appreciate you, Keeley, but I just can’t get on board with tea. If I just have a pot of boiling water available, and people can do what they want with it, and I don’t have to be involved, does that work?” Keeley laughs and nods and Ted decides he’ll buy an assortment of teas from Marks & Spencer when the shop is closed for the day. “You can have some tap water if you want, though. On the house.” He winks and gets another chuckle.Keeley is the start of what Ted thinks of as regulars, people who come by every day, sometimes to sample, sometimes to stay. He loves recognizing faces, familiar smiles that light up when they step inside. Sometimes Keeley brings Roy Kent with her, and he likes the fluffy cupcakes with big dollops of frosting, but won’t admit it. When Ted first slid one across the counter towards the man, dressed all in black, Roy only grunted. “I think it might be your favorite,” is all Ted said, with a little shrug and a tiny smile. “Worth takin’ a bite, no one here to judge.” “It’s a fucking cupcake, of course it’s my favorite,” Roy said, pulling the cupcake towards him, peeling back the wrapper. “You’d have to be mental to not like one of these.” Ted half wonders if he could get that in writing, an endorsement from a human embodiment of Oscar the Grouch. There’s Dani, Henry’s gym teacher (“They call it phys ed, Dad,” Henry always corrects), and he always goes for the lemon bars, bright sunshine-y yellow, and orders boxes of cookies to bring for the other teachers. “We are both across the ocean from our homes, mi amigo,” Dani says one day, “but here, in Richmond? We find a new home.” And Ted hopes that’s true, hopes that this is the home that sticks. Isaac goes for anything chocolate and caramel, and Ted’s been perfecting a salted caramel tart just for him. Trent is a local writer who wants a simple croissant to go with the espresso he gets from the coffee shop down the road. There’s Barbara, who says she just likes the basics, nothing fancy, but then always has eyes for Ted’s rhubarb custard with strawberries. He knows their favorites, from the minute they come in through the door. He makes eye contact, and it’s like a neon sign over their heads, a foghorn that just blares baked goods in his direction. Ted doesn’t know why he can tell, knows his father could do the same thing, but didn’t want to own a bakery. His father ran from the knowledge and ended up running from life. So Ted chose to run towards it, to grip this little bit of magic with both hands. He hasn’t stopped running, doesn’t know what will make him sit still. “You’re lonely,” Beard remarks one day, when all the regulars have come and gone, when Ted’s behind the counter, rolling out dough for tomorrow’s croissants. “What do you mean, Beardo? I just got through two hours of non-stop yappin’! Plus you’re still here, and Henry’s gonna get home from school soon. I don’t have time to be lonely! Barely got a second to myself!” He’s known Beard for a long, long time. Known him long enough to know that he prefers the corner pieces of brownies, that he’s not a fan of dancers, that he always sees more than he lets on.Beard just fixes him with a look and Ted shrugs. “I don’t know what you want me to do! I’m busy. I’ve got all this going on here,” he raises flour-covered fingers, “and people that come and go and know my name and people that I say hi to when we go get dinner at the Crown and Anchor.” Beard still doesn’t say anything and Ted shifts the weight on his feet. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying. When’s the last time I had a conversation?” Ted spits out the word because he’s had people tell him before that he’s so busy baking and cooking and proving and making sure people are happy and satisfied and cared for that he doesn’t ever let people get to know anything beyond that. Beard raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah. Charlie Chapbeard over here,” he mutters. “I get it.”Beard leans across the counter to snag a brownie that Ted’s had waiting for him. “You could get to know people here,” he says as he chews.“What’s the point, when I’m just gonna leave in a few months, in a year. Let Richmond think of the baker that made them smile. Richmond doesn’t need to think about Ted.” It’s maudlin, slightly morose, but it’s the feeling that sticks deep down inside Ted, the feeling he only admits to Beard.“You could stay,” he offers. “All towns are different towns.” He flicks a finger against the brim of his hat as he turns to leave. “Yeah, yeah,” Ted says, once more left alone with his dough. He glances at the clock - only four hours til Henry gets home.-After weeks of Keeley talking about her best friend Rebecca, she finally brings the fabled woman to Honeyhounds, clasped hands pulling her through the door. It’s raining outside and Ted can’t quite get a good look at her as she’s closing up her umbrella and fussing about with her hair. But she’s tall, much taller than Keeley, and her hair is blonde and for all that it might be a little damp, it looks meticulously styled. He’s gathered from Keeley, and from Beard, that she’s a bit of a local celebrity, well known in Richmond for her charitable giving and her annual fundraising auction and gala, but also for her painful and highly publicized divorce from, by Keeley’s account, a disgusting snake in a human suit. She used more colorful language, but Ted got the basic idea. Keeley’s also said that she barely goes out anywhere to enjoy herself, tired of being hounded by paparazzi, sick of unflattering photographs of her making the front pages of tabloids. “It’s the woman, the myth, the legend! Rebecca Welton!” Ted can’t help the words popping out of his mouth, and when Keeley’s friend’s head pops up and meets his gaze with wide, worried, green eyes, Ted immediately regrets his turn of phrase. “I just mean Keeley’s told me a lot about you. Mostly that you’re like an elegant giraffe on the Serengeti and the world’s most attractive honey badger all rolled up into one person.” Rebecca’s cheeks turn a bit pink, and she turns to Keeley.“What? It’s just the truth. I saw you after those negotiations last month - honey badger is a compliment!” She settles easily on her usual stool, and pats the one next to her for Rebecca. “It’s not one I’ve had before,” she says a little stiffly as she leans her umbrella against the counter and sits down, her feet touching the floor firmly whereas Keeley’s feet swing a bit. “Well, ferocious solitary mammal or not, it’s nice to meet you, Ms. Welton.” Ted tips an imaginary hat her way.
“Please, call me Rebecca. Ms. Welton’s my father,” she says, and she looks almost a bit embarrassed as she closes her mouth, like she didn’t mean to let anything else slip out, and Keeley’s looking at her with wide eyes.“If that's a joke, I love it. If not, I cannot wait to unpack that with you.” He grins at her, and she smiles, slightly abashed. “Now, Keeley told me that you would die without a cup of tea to go with your sweet treats, so that there is the Rebecca Welton Commemorative Tea Kettle that we got in your honor, and you can make that disgusting pigeon sweat all you want while I grab y’all some snacks.” Rebecca lets out a small snort at the idea of a commemorative tea kettle and Ted’s glad he made the joke, can see that she’s letting herself feel a little more at ease. He warms a lava cake up for Keeley, and then looks at Rebecca, who’s talking to her companion, head bent slightly. He suddenly feels glad that his son had an idea for something new to try, and he goes to the refrigerator to grab a few glasses of his latest creation. When he comes back over to the two women, he holds out the plate with the warm cake on it to Keeley, who accepts it with eager hands.“And this is for you,” he says, “Just had the urge to make Eton Mess this morning, looked up the recipe last night and everything. My son Henry says it sounds funny but it tastes good.” He slides a small cup of it towards her, and she flicks her eyes to his, hesitating. “Go on, I think it might be your favorite.”That’s what makes her smile, and she willingly picks up the spoon and takes a bite. Her eyes flutter close and her smile widens, and Ted feels like he’s won the lottery - and briefly wonders if there’s a lottery in England. “It’s good, Ted,” she says, and he grins. “But it’s not my favorite.” She takes another bite, looking a little bit pleased with herself, and Ted can only shake his head ruefully. He’ll figure it out, he thinks. But he’s never had to work at it before. So he just watches Rebecca eat the Eton mess, a dot of meringue smeared against her lip before she licks it off with a quick dart of her tongue. -It bothers him that he doesn’t know Rebecca’s favorite. Bothers him enough that he spends a significant portion of the evening scrolling through recipes of classic British treats, even gets Henry to weigh in. There’s frangipane and Victoria sponge and trifles and his mind wanders as he starts to think through how he can make individual servings and if a cake tray with slices would look nice. And he thinks of her face, the blonde hair and the green eyes and the way her lips curve slightly when she smiles, the way her teeth show when she can’t hold the happiness inside. He’s glad he got to see her with Keeley, with someone she loves, because he thinks he got to see a whole ‘nother side of her, one that he might not have seen if he was just some guy on the street. Her face is familiar because he’s seen the tabloids; he’s seen the headlines calling her old, the wrinkled and gleeful face of her ex-husband with his arm around some young lady. He hasn’t read the stories, but he’s gotten the gist. Keeley’s filled in some of the details too. “Dad, what about profit-er-rolls?” Henry sounds out the word slowly, and Ted’s not sure if he’s saying it right or not, but he’s not one to judge pronunciation, not by a long mile. He’s pointing to something on the laptop screen and Ted remembers something about them on Bake Off. He likes making choux pastry, likes the opportunity for making puns. “I like it, bud,” he says, ruffling Henry’s hair. He’s already thinking about making a peanut butter cream for the filling or a white chocolate drizzle. And maybe he can make one with berries, make a version that’s like an Eton mess but different enough that it might be Rebecca’s favorite. He tries to imagine her eating a cream puff - if it’s a delicate bite or if she’ll shove the whole thing in her mouth.He’s not even sure she’s going to come back ever; maybe her first visit was a fluke, just a happenstance of schedule. The thought makes him feel itchy, because he doesn’t like that he couldn’t figure out the answer to the mystery of her, doesn’t like the thought that he might’ve missed a chance to make a difference in her life. That is what it’s about in the end. He wants to show people they matter, even if it’s something as small as a little slice of cake that makes them smile. He wants them to know that there’s someone in the world who sees them, who knows them on some level. That’s the magic of it: seeing someone and handing them a part of themselves back when he slides them a baked good.When Henry is tucked in bed, asleep after two chapters of A Wrinkle in Time, Ted moves back to the kitchen and starts mixing choux pastry, standing at the stove and stirring enough that his arm feels a little sore. And then he fills a pastry bag and begins dotting a sheet tray with the batter. Everything starts to feel rote, he feels tension ease from his shoulders at a building routine, at something he has control over. -It isn’t even a week before Rebecca returns, and she’s on her own, without Keeley. She almost looks self-conscious when she steps inside, eyes darting around to the shelves, and Ted can’t stop the boisterous, “Hey, Rebecca,” that escapes his lips, and any uncertainty is now replaced with surprise and slightly parted lips. “You remembered me,” she says, a little dryly, and he can see how she pulls herself back together, the slightly severe facade clicking into place again, though her eyes stay bright as they meet his own. “You’re hard to forget,” he says, and almost instantly blushes at how it sounds. “It’s just that it’s not every day that I can’t figure out someone’s favorite.” He pushes a tray of profiteroles, made just a few hours earlier, some with custard, some with cream, just a few with a peanut butter filling that he’s still trying to figure out. “Give this a taste. Henry suggested it.”Rebecca tilts her head, and Ted remembers that they actually don’t know each other, even though sometimes it feels like they do, even if she’s somewhat shrouded in mystery for him. “My son,” he says. “Just turned ten, and having the time of his life learnin’ all about y’alls culture over here. If Keeley didn’t make me get tea for you, Henry’d have asked for it soon enough, the traitor.” He grins, and Rebecca gives him a soft smile. “That’s right,” she says. “You mentioned him last time. Do you always go to a ten year-old for advice on what to stock in your bakery?” Her eyebrow lifts and Ted can’t help but laugh. “Only when they have excellent taste in baked goods,” he says, and watches Rebecca slide the profiterole in her mouth, one smooth bite and she doesn’t even look like a cow as she chews, which is not something everyone can accomplish. She settles on the same stool she sat on last time, and Ted likes that she’s making herself at home, likes that maybe she’s going to have a usual spot, that maybe she’s going to come by often. “So in all the complimentin’ you that Keeley does, I don’t think she actually ever told me what you do,” he says, a question even though he hasn’t phrased it that way.
“I, ah,” she pauses, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against the countertop, “I work with the AFC Richmond team.” She looks up at him through her lashes and he knows she’s not quite telling him the whole story. “They got you out on the field?” He grins at her and gets an answering one back, along with a small eyeroll. “We call it a pitch over here,” she says. “And I am usually behind a desk fielding hundreds of emails with varying levels of annoyance. I was actually coming by to get a box of sweet things to keep in my office, something to break up the day when I feel like snapping a pencil and using it as a weapon.” Her eyebrow’s lifted again, like it’s a challenge, like she’s waiting to see how he’ll respond.“Well that’s a mildly terrifying prospect, but I’m hopeful I’ve got something that’ll keep all those murderous impulses at bay.” He slides a light pink box out of a bin of them and starts to fold it up. “Must mean you’re the boss,” he says. “Can’t imagine you reporting to anyone.” He manages the cardstock with practiced ease, and he can feel Rebecca’s eyes on his hands. “Yes, well,” she says, taking another profiterole - custard this time, from the tray that sits between them. “I spent twelve years with a man who treated me like an employee and decided it wasn’t for me. Got the team in the divorce and,” she shrugs slightly, “that was that.” It’s a whole life story packed into a couple of sentences and Ted just wants to know more. Wants to know who was there for her when it was over, if someone held her hand when she signed the papers, who taught her about football, if she always wears heels as high as the ones she’s wearing today, everything. He wants to know everything.But it’s equally clear that she’s not inviting further questions, and despite what Beard says sometimes, Ted can take a hint. “That’s that indeed,” he says. “Now, what’s your pleasure? We’ve got a box to fill.” Her eyes twinkle. “Whatever you like, Ted. I trust your judgment.” He squints at her, tries to suss out the favorite she isn’t saying. But she isn’t giving anything, and so he turns away with a rueful smile, and picks things from trays at random, and can imagine her enjoying them all, but nothing feels exactly right.She pays for her box and leaves extra for the cream puffs she sampled, though Ted tries to say they’re on the house. “Oh! What’s the verdict on the profiteroles, boss?” Ted calls after her, before she’s out of the shop. She turns and smiles softly. “They’re good. But it’s not my favorite.”And then she steps through the door, gone again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s a few days before Rebecca stops by again, but she isn’t alone, Keeley and Roy coming in ahead of her, and it feels like maybe he’s starting to make friends, real ones that he can expect to see regularly. There’s part of him that likes it, feels warm and fuzzy about it. And there’s part that feels itchy, like a scab waiting to be picked off.
He pulls out a pink box for Keeley and Roy’s usual order of cupcakes: three to take away with them so that Roy’s niece has something sweet when she comes round after school lets out for the day. Rebecca hangs back, looking into the display case and Ted can’t help but feel distracted, feel like he wants to see just what it is she’s looking at. But then she blinks and turns towards him, towards Keeley and Roy, and smiles brightly. “What’ve you got today, Ted?” Rebecca asks, and he feels an answering grin spread across his face without even trying. “Still haven’t gotten her favorite, eh?” Keeley says, with a nudge of her elbow to Rebecca’s hip. She says it like it’s a joke, like there’s no magic to it at all, and Ted’s fine with that. He doesn’t need people to know the reality of it, how much it stymies him to not know her favorite. “Not yet,” Rebecca says, her voice smooth, “but he’s giving it a hell of a good try.” There’s something about her tone that makes his spine snap straight to attention, and he thinks he catches sight of a wink on her face as he glances between Keeley, Roy, and Rebecca. “How about one of these, boss?” Ted slides a homemade poptart on a plate towards her. It’s still an experiment, and he’s doesn’t think it’ll be her favorite, but he mostly just wants to see how she reacts. “It’s been warmed in the oven, so it might be a little bit toasty!”Rebecca breaks off a corner, inspects the inside filling. “What is this?”“A poptart! I was craving them the other day and spent a lot of time on the ol’ internet seeing where an American might get some of these suckers, and found out they aren’t sold here! I mean y’all got something called ‘Toast’Ems’ but that didn’t seem right to me. Then I started thinking, ‘How hard could it be to make ‘em myself?’ and so started lookin’ up recipes. I found a nice YouTube video about it, and then wanted to see what else she’d made and that led me to a whole ‘nother part of the internet - did y’all hear about the Bon Appetit Test Kitchen over here?” He knows he just said a whole lot of words, can see Keeley’s wide eyes and Roy’s furrowed brow, and Rebecca’s just looking at him. “I’m almost certain we did not,” she says, finally putting the little corner of pastry in her mouth. He watches her take a second piece, with more of that brown sugar cinnamon filling in it, and savor it a bit more. “It’s not bad, Ted,” she says. “Yeah, yeah, but it’s not your favorite. I’ve heard that song before.” He grins at her and she smiles back and they just stand like that until Roy clears his throat, and Ted remembers that they’re in public and they’re in his bakery and his job is not to just stare at the beautiful blonde woman that sometimes comes in. “What do you think Phoebe wants for her cupcake today?” Ted asks, gently pulling out Keeley’s usual chocolate and Roy’s usual vanilla. “She specifically asked for lemon, if you have it, and if you don’t, she’d like you to consider making them for next time. Little prick.” There’s absolutely no venom in his voice and Ted grins. “No lemon today, but I’ve got this custardy one that I think she’ll get a kick out of.” Roy just grunts and that’s good enough for Ted; he pops it in the box with the rest. “You should come to the pub with us this evening. Phoebe wants Roy to show her how to play darts, you can bring Henry too, see how much damage the little menaces can do,” Keeley says, and Ted catches Roy’s slight eyebrow raise, like she’s going rogue on something. “Plus Rebecca’s coming too and we don’t want an odd number.”“Right, right, of course,” Ted says, scratching at the back of his head, because he’s not exactly sure her logic works out in this particular case. “Pubs are real particular about seating even numbers, huh?”Rebecca’s lips twist and her eyes flick from Keeley to Roy to Ted. “You can’t imagine the dozens of lectures we’ve had about three people sitting at a table for four.” She drops a quick wink in Ted’s direction.“Feels like y’all are probably joking but you can never be too sure, so maybe Henry and I better come along, just to be safe. Plus he can keep Pheebs company if the adults get too boring.” Rebecca’s smile makes him feel like he’s made the right choice.-Henry is more than happy to come along, affable as always. He’s met Phoebe before, when Roy and Keeley have brought her by the shop after school’s done for the day and they’re friendly in the way kids are when their adults are hanging out. Ted thinks they’re probably both used to making the best of their situations, both affable and friendly and relatively easy-going. Mae, the woman tending bar, hands the two children a bunch of darts and points them to the board in the corner. It makes his hands twitch a little, Henry playing darts; Henry doing the thing that Ted used to do with his father. Henry making a home here in Richmond. Henry laughing and grinning and being happy. And it makes his hands twitch. Not for the first time, he wonders if he’ll ever be strong enough to stay. But then Rebecca puts a pint of beer in front of him and slides next to him on the bench, and she smells like flowers and sunshine and he goes into a bit of a stupor. “They’ve already wrangled Roy into showing them what he knows,” she says, leaning in ostensibly because of the noise of the pub, but it also feels like maybe an excuse to get close, and Ted doesn’t mind it. Keeley settles across from them, grinning and bubbly and full of stories about the latest shoot she’s arranged, something with wild animals and vodka and she’s just thanking her lucky stars she doesn’t have to dress up in a costume anymore. “Those days are behind me,” she says, and Ted catches sight of the proud look on Rebecca’s face. He only knows some of their history, little drips and drabs that come out in conversation, but he thinks each woman would credit the other one for saving them. “Well now, that depends - what kinda animals are selling this alcohol?” He settles back against the wood. “Lions and pandas,” Keeley says and Ted feels, rather than sees, Rebecca’s huffed laugh. “I woulda loved to hear the pitch for that. Can’t imagine those are two critters that hang out together all that much.” He lifts his pint to his mouth. “If a panda came within metres of a lion, I don’t think we’d be hearing from that panda again,” Rebecca says, sipping on her gin and tonic and Ted grins. “They sure are cuddly, though,” he offers, a little bump of his shoulder against Rebecca’s, and he catches her gaze, holding her eyes for a long moment until Phoebe and Henry come bustling back over, trailed by Roy, looking every inch like an imposing shadow. “Roy’s not very good, Dad,” Henry says bluntly in only the way children can be, and Ted’s hand comes up to cover his mouth, to hide his smile, made all the harder by the fact that he can see Keeley and Rebecca doing their level best not to laugh too, and for a moment, it all feels wonderful and safe and like something he can keep.Ted’s about to offer to take the kid back over to the dartboard when he hears the door to the pub open and hears a man’s voice boom out a greeting and hears the sharp intake of breath from next to him. Rebecca’s hand is on his thigh, gripping tighter than he thinks she realizes, and he drops his fingers to hers, his thumb soothing a pattern against her skin. “That fucker,” Keeley hisses and Phoebe doesn’t even say anything about it being a bad word. There’s a low growl in the back of Roy’s throat, and when Ted turns to look, he sees a tall man with silvery hair and, he can tell even from the distance, a slimy sort of smile on his face. And he’s making his way to their table, and Rebecca’s back is ramrod straight and the laugh lines that had been bracketing her mouth only moments earlier are gone, her face held stiff and still, except for her eyes, tracking the man’s movements. Henry’s looking at Ted and all he can do is shrug almost imperceptibly because he’s not exactly sure what’s happening, except that it isn’t good. “Ex-husband,” Keeley breathes out softly, and it all clicks into place. The snake of a man who had the nerve to make Rebecca’s life hell when all she’d done is marry him. “What a festive gathering,” Rupert says when he’s made it to the head of the table, and Ted hates that they’re all looking up at him. “He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?” he asks Rebecca, a glance spared towards Henry, and his words all gilt with fool’s gold. “Unless you’re playing house with…” and he trails off to look at Ted now, and Ted feels his own mask take over. “Ain’t no houses to play with, unless it’s gingerbread ones,” he says, sticking his hand out. “Ted Lasso, owner of Honeyhounds Bakery across the Green.” Rupert’s eyes practically sparkly at that, and Ted isn’t sure Rebecca’s moved even a millimeter since the man entered the pub. He’s glad the table is hiding the way her hand is still on his thigh, the way his thumb is still pressing against her. “Not a baker, Rebecca,” Rupert says, all condescension and oil. “You know you have to watch your figure. A moment on the lips….” He trails off, his hands gently falling to his waistline and Keeley looks like she’s about to launch herself across the table, her hair practically fizzling out from her ponytail like some sort of static reaction to Rupert Mannion. “I’ve always thought that was a silly saying,” Ted says, knowing he’s talking a little too loud, knowing he’s white knighting when he doesn’t even know if it’s what Rebecca wants. “Forever on the hips? I’ve never gained weight in the hips. Always the thighs. Maybe it should be ‘A moment in the eyes, forever on the thighs.’ Ah, well, I’ve never begrudged an inch that a tasty cookie - I guess y’all say biscuit - has given me. Better to enjoy the good things while you have them, because you can’t get ‘em back when they’re gone. Guess you’d know something about that, Rupert, eh?” He keeps his voice carefully bland, sees how Keeley’s looking at him now, slightly open-mouthed, and Henry’s looking at him too, confusion on his little face.But Rupert looks like someone’s shoved a lemon in his mouth, and Ted just can’t stop the words, can’t stop himself. His thumb taps against Rebecca’s hand once, twice, carefully, quickly, and then he removes her fingers from his thigh as he slides out from the bench, his own hand dropping to Henry’s shoulder. He’s the same height as Rupert, they match eye for eye, and Ted would just about wager everything he owns that Rupert hated when Rebecca wore heels. But he blinks his brown eyes as Rupert tilts his head slightly, appraisingly, like he’s trying to find a weakness. Ted’s shoulders shrug a little of their own accord. “Listen, I was just about to show my son the finer points of darts. I know it’s all the rage over here, and Mae just handed him a fistful of these pointy little guys and just pushed him in the direction of the board. Know anything about the game?” He’s choosing his words carefully, lightly.“Oh, I’ve dabbled,” Rupert says, sliding his hand into his coat pocket and pulling out a silver case, monogrammed and everything, and of course he’s the kind of guy who’s got his own darts, but he’s also exactly the kind of guy that Ted had picked him out to be, so it’s all fine, or as fine as it can be. Ted puts himself between Rupert and the table of his friends, ushering him towards the corner Phoebe and Henry just vacated. “Wanna come too, bud?” he asks Henry, not wanting to make him anymore of a pawn in whatever this ends up being. Henry shrugs, looks at Keeley, Roy, Phoebe, and Rebecca in turn, and then nods. “Great. We’ll be over there if y’all need anything. Just give a shout.” Rebecca finally moves, a slow blink and a tilt of her head, and Keeley’s attention snaps back to her. All Ted can do is a nod of his own in her direction, figuring Keeley’s got things well in hand, and then he follows Rupert to the dartboard. He lets Rupert show off a bit, but he can tell he’s not as good as he thinks he is, that he tends to overcorrect, that his darts go a little bit to the left and he adjusts too far to the right. He takes a couple of shots with the darts that came with the board, red plastic that’s slightly worn he can tell they’ve been well-used. “Dad, why are you throwing with your right hand?” Henry asks, and Ted kinda wishes he didn’t have such an observant kid. Rupert turns towards Ted with a grin, like a shark looking at prey, or maybe a lion looking at a panda. “Were you trying to hustle me, Tim?” Rupert asks, and Ted just shakes his head ruefully. He would’ve shown his hand at some point, Henry’s just tipping the cards a little early. “Nah, just seeing if being ambidextrous is as fun as they say it is. And it’s Ted, if you’re plannin’ to keep track.” He spins a dart in his hand, looking down at it thoughtfully. He looks at Rupert, sees Keeley and Rebecca watching him. “You live here in Richmond?” he asks. “Haven’t seen you around.” “Lord, no,” Rupert says. “It’s nice enough here, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing. No, my home is in Kensington. Just a short drive, easy enough to come this way, revisit,” his eyes flick to Rebecca, “old memories.” Ted can see how Rebecca shrinks, even just from Rupert’s gaze, but he shrugs again, playing up the affable American, the way so many people see him when they first meet.“You know, Rupert, I don’t really like to brag, but I know things about people. The second I meet ‘em, I get a clear picture about them, about what makes ‘em happy and what makes a day seem worthwhile and what feels like a big ol’ bearhug to the heart.” He looks down at Henry who’s looking up at him. “Henry here loves chocolate chip cookies, from the minute we let him eat things he had to chew. Made his whole face light up. Keeley,” he gestures, “likes the things that don’t look so sweet at first but have just the softest insides.” Keeley smiles, gives a slight nudge to Rebecca, who’s just watching. “And Miss Phoebe, she likes those tart flavors that surprise you, keep you on your toes.” Phoebe gives a dimpled grin, laughs softly against Keeley’s shoulder.“When you came in, there wasn’t a single person in here that looked happier for havin’ you around. You might wanna think about why that is. You’re nobody’s pink frosted cupcake, nobody’s chocolate chip cookie. And in all my life, I’ve never met a single person who didn’t wanna be something to somebody.” The pub is quiet, he knows everyone’s craning an ear, and he really wishes he knew Rebecca better to know if she’s just hopping mad or in shock or what, because she seems more like a statue than a person, if he’s honest.“I don’t know what makes you happy, Rupert,” Ted says, and that’s not exactly true, because he bets if he made some anise pizzelles, they’d be nothing but crumbs in front of the other man, but sometimes it’s about more than baked goods. “You can throw your special darts around and wave a big wad of cash and feel like the King of England, but at the end of the day, what does that get you?”Ted throws a dart, makes it look effortless, and he hits the center of the board. He remembers being eight and learning that the bullseye isn’t even as important as most people think. It’s just the most obvious target.“We can play a game if you want, Rupe-a-dupe, but I don’t think you can win, and I don’t think you’d be any happier even if you did.” He throws another dart and it kisses the first as it makes its home on the board. “Maybe you’d just feel better if you go on ahead back to Kensington and leave the memories, no matter how good, here in Richmond.”Rupert doesn’t say anything, just sniffs slightly and turns on his heel, doesn’t even nod at Rebecca on his way out and Ted supposes that’s better than nothing. He knows that men like Rupert love a biting remark on the way out.“Holy shit, Ted, are you, like, a speechwriter on the side? That was like fucking poetry.” Keeley’s hands are on his forearm and she’s beaming at him, and he feels like he’s coming back to himself a little, free from whatever curse Rupert brought in with him. “Thanks, Keeley,” he says. “Must be the land of the Bard with a beard rubbing off on me at last. Listen,” he drops his voice, drops his chin to whisper in Keeley’s ear, “is she-“ He looks to where Rebecca was, but she’s gone. Keeley turns to look too.“I think she’s fine, Ted. Like she’s not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Probably she just needs some air. Or a smoke.” Keeley grabs his hand and gives his fingers a squeeze. “I’m just gonna - Henry, you good in here with Keeley and Roy and Phoebe?” Henry nods, already bobbing back to the table where Phoebe is trying to use her straw to blow the crumpled up wrapper towards a salt and pepper shaker goal post. Keeley just gives him a knowing sort of smile and Ted pretends he doesn’t know what it’s about, and just heads towards the door, can see Rebecca standing in the cold, a cigarette between her fingers, but he doesn’t think it’s lit. “Smoking by osmosis?” he asks when he’s next to her, shoulder gently touching hers. “What? Oh.” She looks down at the cigarette in her hand. “Habit, I suppose. There’s always a pack in my pocket, even if I don’t smoke that much anymore.” She drops it to the ground, uses the tip of her heel to grind it against the pavement, and turns to look at Ted, her eyes practically silver in the evening light, just a lamppost a few yards away.He fidgets a little, because at the end of the day, he’s still just the owner of a bakery she comes to every once in a while, and he probably can’t even see the line he’s crossed, he’s so far past it. Rebecca tilts her head slightly, eyes flicking down to his. “Thank you,” she says, softly, taking the smallest step closer to him, the flowing edge of her skirt just brushing against his slacks. “Rupert, he-” she pauses, swallows. “He knows me.” Ted shuffles his feet a little. “Y’all were married, so I get it, but Rebecca? I don’t think he knows you at all. And maybe that’s a lot for me to say when we don’t really know each other, and I hope you’ll forgive me for oversteppin’ because sometimes it’s like I’ve got the cart and all I can do is put it before that dang horse and then I just end up with an overturned pile of-” She stops him with a kiss, a gentle press of her lips to his, and his last thought is that it’s good she stopped him because he doesn’t exactly know where that metaphor was gonna end up. His brain works enough to kiss her back before she pulls away, and maybe the horse has caught up to the cart, because her hands are on his shoulders, and his go to her waist, and she’s making a soft little noise that he’s gonna remember when he’s alone in bed at night.“He knows part of me,” Rebecca amends, when she pulls away, but not too far, because he can still feel her breath against his cheek, his neck. “And I let him. I’m not an innocent victim in all of his machinations.” Her thumb presses against his mouth like she knows he’s about to protest. “But I don’t think it’s fair to let him take my future as well as my past.” He purses his lips against her thumb and she smiles. “So thank you,” she says again, and replaces her hand with her smile as she kisses him again. “Tell Keeley I’m good, but I’ve gone home?” Rebecca nods back towards the door, and Ted feels like maybe she’s somehow stolen his voice because all he can manage is a thumbs up that makes Rebecca’s lips quirk up like she’s trying to hold in some humor. “See you tomorrow,” she tosses over her shoulder, and he holds it to him like a promise.-He doesn’t want to seem impatient, but he doesn’t see Rebecca in the morning, not that she said she’d be waiting outside for him to unlock or anything, but still, he can’t help the teenage feeling of waiting for her to show up, like a kid before prom night - one where he doesn’t wear his pajamas. It’s after lunchtime that Keeley and Rebecca appear, and there’s a relief that flows through his bones, his shoulders finally settling to a normal sort of position, and he feels the blush on his cheeks when Rebecca smiles at him, is glad he stayed up late with cocoa powder and cream when he slides a little box with a few truffles in it towards her. “For both of you,” he says quickly, realizing he’s got nothing special for Keeley, but she just grins. “Nah, I think those are just for Rebecca. But I will take a croissant on the house - to go,” Keeley says, already tapping at something on her phone. “Sponsors at the club, branding meeting, all that.” She doesn’t even look up as she accepts the slightly warmed croissant in a wax paper bag from Ted. “See you in a few, Rebecca,” she calls out as she’s leaving, “and see you soon, Ted, I’m sure!”He laughs at that, because he knows what she’s not saying, and he thinks Rebecca’s pink cheeks mean that she knows it too, but she’s looking at the truffles in the box, holding one between her fingers, and then she bites it right in half.“Fuck me, Ted, how do you have time to sleep?” Rebecca says around the chocolate. “You can’t tell me you get enough rest when you’re staying up all night making me - making delicious new treats every day.” He tilts his head, knows he could let the slip of her tongue go, but he thinks he’d rather be straightforward. “I am making them for you,” he says, honest and as brave as he can be. Her eyebrows lift a little in surprise, and so he presses on. “I wasn’t lying when I told Rupert that I know things about people when I meet ‘em. Mostly just what kind of baked good they like best, and I can kinda interpret a lot about people based on that,” he shrugs. “But you’re kinda all cloaked in mystery for me. So I just like to make you things, see what works.”Her eyes are a little wider now, but she isn’t looking at him like he’s nuts, so he’ll take it as a win, and she finishes the truffle she’s eating. “I like these truffles, Ted,” she says, reaching for another one, and he thinks he could finish her sentence even as she adds, “but they’re not my favorite.” She lingers in the bakery, makes herself a cup of tea, finishes the box of truffles and has a chocolate chip cookie too. “If they’re Henry’s favorite, they must be good,” she says, and he feels the swell of pride that she was listening to him last night, that she remembered something about Henry. “I’ll let him know you said that. He’ll be chuffed. I’m using that, right? Not a word in my English. Just wanna make sure I’m not saying he’s naked or something, I don’t know.” Rebecca’s chuckle is low and warm and he just likes that sound a lot.“You’ve got it right,” she says, a tentative thumbs up in his direction, and he wonders if Rebecca Welton has ever done anything like that before. He thinks about leaning across the counter to kiss her, but instead he just wipes at nonexistent crumbs and grins at her, knowing he must look goofy as all get out. They’re interrupted by Nathan Shelley, who comes in every once in a while after that first day, and there’s always a plum something or other in stock, because Ted’s nothing if not happy to accommodate. But he feels a little resentment towards the man for the first time ever, because while he’s talking to him, he sees Rebecca slip out the front door, the bell tinkling as it shuts behind her. “Anything else for you?” he asks, and Nate looks a little lost. “Trying to bring home something my dad’ll like,” he says. “Notoriously picky man.” He says it almost like his father is a stranger, one he doesn’t really know, and Ted feels a shot of empathy run through him. “Can’t go wrong with some good old fashioned brownies,” he says, gesturing to the tray. “Made ‘em fresh today so they’re good and fudgy. My dad liked them a lot, anyway.” They were his father’s favorite, in fact, rich and chocolate and more complicated than they seemed at the outset. Took years before Ted wanted to make them again, but now he tries to look for the good in them, knows they might be someone else’s favorite too. “S-sure,” Nate says, and Ted slides out four pieces and nestles them in wax paper and a box. “Dads, you know,” he adds, sounding a little emboldened, and Ted nods, sort of waiting him out. He sees a little piece of paper tucked slightly next to the cup of tea Rebecca was drinking from and tries not to let it distract him too much.“Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em,” he says, aiming for a joke and Nate laughs weakly and he knows it’s just a polite response. He clears his throat and slides the box towards the other man. “Hope you enjoy them, Nate,” and Nate gets that look on his face that he always gets, like he’s surprised that Ted remembers who he is, that he has a name and isn’t just some customer passing by. “Hope your dad likes ‘em, too. But remember, your enjoyment matters just as much.” Nate looks like there’s a war of emotion going on behind his eyes, and then he schools his features and says a quick, “Thank you, Ted,” before scurrying out of the shop. In another world, Rebecca would still be in the shop, and she’d be smiling at him as he cleared her dishes away, and maybe he’d get to spend the rest of the chatting with her ‘til Henry came home from school. Instead, he lifts the delicate cup to see a phone number written in clear, neat handwriting. He doesn’t wait to send her a text, doesn’t overthink it either. Just a quick “This is Ted Lasso, from the bakery” and a little purple heart, hoping it’s not too much, not too little, that he’s like Baby Bear, getting it just right. -When Henry gets home, it’s his usual flurry of activity, with stories of friends and school and shoving assignments in Ted’s direction that he immediately puts on the refrigerator. He idly thinks that he’ll need to scope out some new magnets soon.“Mark’s going to do a sleepover at the history museum for his birthday,” Henry says, sliding under Ted’s arm to reach for the crackers that always wait for him on the countertop next to Ted’s open peanut butter. “With dinosaur skeletons and whales and giraffes and maybe it’ll be like that movie we saw, Night at the Museum? Do you think they come to life when they think everyone’s gone? We’d have to be really quiet, I bet. Anyway, he asked if I could come and I said probably, but I had to check with you so I’m checking with you! Can I, Dad?” Ted knows to never doubt genetics because there’s no way anyone but his own kid could string sentences together the way Henry does.“I’m sure you can, bud. When is it?” He opens up his phone to pull up the calendar, and the party isn’t for a month, which isn’t so bad, but it’s one of the first times Henry’s made a friend that’s inviting him somewhere, the first time they’re making plans for something, the first time it feels like Henry might be getting comfortable.The itchiness of expectation swells up inside him, the feeling that he needs to burst out of his own skin. He’s shown his hand, a little, shared the knowledge that he knows people deeply, from the minute he meets them. His dad always said that made people uncomfortable, eventually. “Because they’ll never know you the way you know them. You’ll either be too much when you tell them the truth and they’ll hate you for it or or you’ll keep parts of yourself hidden and you won’t enough, and they’ll hate that too. It’s no way to live. So we keep on moving.” His dad said it all the time, until he was done moving, chose not living over anything else, made sure that message was lodged in Ted’s heart forever. Henry’s moved on from the party, satisfied that it’s in his dad’s calendar, happy in the knowledge that at some point in his life, he’ll get to fall asleep next to some giant animal skeleton. Ted never had that. He doesn’t want to take Henry from place to place, doesn’t want to keep on moving. But he can picture the faces of the people he’s met, all turning away from him, all leaving him behind.His cell phone buzzes and he sees Rebecca’s name light up the screen, feels the telltale lump of affection in his chest, and then looks to Henry, reading quietly on the sofa, that affection only growing. But it’s a cage as much as it’s a key, and he sends the call to voicemail, turns his phone off, the screen going black.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A missed call. Three unanswered texts.Ted tells himself it’s for the best; it’s going to save everyone a lot of hurt in the long run. He doesn’t open the bakery, just sends Henry off to school and then sits on a bench on the Green, watching people he’s come to recognize go by, hoping he’s somewhat incognito. No one says anything to him, which makes him feel a sense of relief while also feeling perturbed, the echoing sense that no one would miss him if he left.He’s meandering his way back home when he sees Rebecca at the door to the bakery, sees her peer through the glass, sees her pull out her phone. And then he feels the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He turns right back around, ducks down the stairs of the nearest tube station before he can be spotted. Clean break is what rattles around his head and he thinks of the snap of a cookie, of a chocolate bar.There’s a voice mail on his phone, and he can’t decide if hearing Rebecca’s voice would make things easier or harder. The transcription just says that she hopes he’s all right, that she’d like to hear from him. He can picture the softening of her eyes and the way she can fix him with those green eyes and see right through everything else. He thinks of buttery shortbread, comforting and sweet, just a hint of salt, great depth hidden behind a simple exterior.He gets on a train and doesn’t know which direction he’s going, doesn’t know where he’ll end up.-Ted is grateful that Beard is willing to pick up Henry from school and walk him back home, but it does come with a long, fixed look, and being forced to face uncomfortable realities.He sits across from Beard at the dining table, stays quiet as long as he can, though he knows he’ll never outlast Beard in the silence game, baseball cap pulled back slightly, hands resting on the polished wood. Henry’s mildly oblivious, working on homework from the couch, though Ted knows his son has seen this before, knows that Henry is attuned to what oncoming change looks like.“I like it here,” Ted says finally, “even with all the tea they got goin’ on.” Beard steeples his fingers, and stays silent, and Ted feels itchy under his gaze. “I don’t know if they like me.”“Bullshit,” Beard squawks and it’s enough that Henry looks up from his reading.“Sorry, Hen, just talkin’ about what Beard stepped in at a farm last weekend,” Ted says and Henry just rolls his eyes because he’s a kid but he’s not an idiot, and goes back to his book.“People like you, Ted. You’re thinking about your dad and your mom and a lot of people who haven’t been good to you, but you’re not thinking about the people who are here, right now.” He clasps his hands together, fingers interlocking, going silent again.“People.” Ted hums a little, tapping his fingers on the table.“Rebecca,” Beard prompts, and Ted feels his cheeks warm. Beard knows about the baking and the kiss and the pub and he knows Ted hasn’t done anything like this, felt anything like this, since Henry’s mother.Ted is careful about attachments, careful about leaving nothing behind. He often thinks about one of those cursive signs he saw in a gift shop at Yellowstone that said, “take only photos, leave only footprints.” That’s sort of a motto he carries, pulling himself out of every life he’s made with alacrity and ease, hoping things just close up behind him, a seam being pulled tight.“Well, it’s been a couple days and I’ve been ignorin’ her, so probably that’s gonna wrap up soon anyway,” he says, glancing at his phone, sitting on the counter. There’s a recipe for shortbread that’s open on the screen, one he found while riding trains around London until he got back to Richmond.Beard just clears his throat in a way that tells Ted exactly what he’s thinking. A whole soliloquy hidden behind a cough. It tells him to remember the feeling of entering a new shop, one just waiting for him. To remember the feeling of potential and to not let it scare him. It’s a reminder to let Henry make a home and to not run from belonging.“Not everybody leaves,” Beard says after a long moment. “You don’t have to either.” He raps his knuckles against the table and stands up. “Have a good night, Henry,” he calls, and Henry pipes up with a goodbye right back.There’s quiet in the apartment - flat - after Beard leaves, just Henry flipping pages as he reads and Ted’s thoughts banging around his head.-He shouldn’t be surprised that Rebecca doesn’t appear at the bakery the next day, or even the day after. Keeley doesn’t show up either, and Ted’s sure it’s a show of loyalty, is glad Rebecca has someone like that in her corner. He’s glad he didn’t make the shortbread, wouldn’t want it to go to someone else, wouldn’t want it to go to waste. He’s not even sure she’ll like it, but he wants to bake it for her all the same.It’s a week before he gets up the nerve to call her, choosing that over a text message that somehow feels more impersonal than he wants it to be, and he’s not shocked to be sent to voicemail, but he also figures she could be busy running her football club and all. “Hey, Rebecca. It’s me - It’s Ted. From the bakery. You maybe could guess that. I just - I just wanted to talk, if you’re interested in that. You know where to find me. Or you can give me a call back. Or whatever. I’ll be around. This is Ted - can’t remember if I said that yet. Not just some crazy stranger. Well, that’s - you know what, never mind. Just wanted to say hey, and that I’d like to talk. Okay. Bye.”Maybe he should’ve sent a text message.He tries to forget about the unanswered communication, but figures the fact that he’s just replaying his own voice in his head is a good punishment, that maybe Rebecca has felt the same way for the past week and a half. There are customers that come in and biscuits to package and truffles to roll, and he tries to focus on that, on the repetitive motions and the familiar faces, and to tamp down on the fear.It’s only when he’s about to turn the sign on the door from Open to Closed that he sees her, standing a few feet away from the shop entrance, out of view from behind the counter. He opens the door, the little bell jangling, and her head snaps up, eyes meeting his.“Hey, Rebecca,” he says, and pushes out a little smile to cover up his nerves. She doesn’t smile back, but she doesn’t look angry, exactly. “I don’t wanna interrupt you if you’re, uh, on your way somewhere.” She tilts her head. “But if you wanna come in, there’s hot water and a bunch of dried up leaves with your name on ‘em.”That does get a little smile, just a hint of it, and Ted feels something loosen in his chest a little, like maybe they can figure it out, maybe she’s gonna be able to forgive him. She follows him inside, and he flips the sign and locks the door.“Don’t worry, I’m not trapping you in here, you can leave whenever you want. I just don’t want any of those crazy Richmond hoodlums comin’ in here trying to get baked goods after hours.”“I wasn’t worried,” she says, and gosh it feels good to hear her voice, the huskiness of it, and she sets about to making herself tea, practiced movements, and he thinks about how she’s always looked at home here, that maybe she carries herself in a way where she looks at home everywhere.“I’m sorry,” he starts, once she’s settled on a stool, her hands cupped around her mug, and he’s just relieved that she’s staying. “I don’t want you to think…It’s not like we kissed and now I’m runnin’ away.”“That’s exactly what it seems like.” There’s a sardonic undercurrent to her tone and he doesn’t think she’s mad, exactly. Just more curious. Not judgmental. He can work with that. He’s grateful for that.“Henry said this place felt like home. He’s makin’ plans for a future here. Birthday parties and friends,” Ted says, and he knows it’s not exactly an explanation but it’s the only way he knows how to start. Rebecca tips her head to the side, waits him out.“We’ve…we’ve never stayed long enough for him to feel like that.” He doesn’t say anything about the guilt that makes him feel, about how putting down roots feels like giving up, like he’s doing less than he should, like there’s a million reasons he should be somewhere else, other people to feed, other people to help. And he feels all of that all of the time.“Is it really so bad?” she asks gently.“No,” he answers, but can feel the sob clogging his throat. “It’s just hard.” She leans across the counter, reaches toward him, takes his hand. “What if it’s too much or y’all get sick of me or everyone gets a gluten allergy or I can’t make everyone happy or-“ The words are rushing out and he can’t stop them until Rebecca’s cool hand is against his cheek.“The likelihood of all of Richmond developing a gluten allergy is highly unlikely,” she says, her thumb just brushing the edge of his mustache.“It’s just one possibility,” he mumbles, resisting the urge to turn slightly, to press a kiss to her palm. She’s being kind and lovely and patient and he can be patient too.“There are other possibilities,” she says.“Yeah?” He wishes he didn’t sound so hopeful.“You and Henry make a home here and people come from all across the city to try your little tarts and profiteroles and what have you and it’s okay to just live your life.”“Sometimes the tarts ain’t so little,” Ted says and he knows Rebecca’s smiling now, her hand dropping back to his. “Are you somewhere in this possibility?” He slots his fingers against hers, grateful for the grounding contact, the feel of her skin against his.“It’s…” her lips quirk, “possible.”He feels bold enough to lean across the counter then, to meet her in the middle, to kiss her, soft and tender and quick. “I hope so,” he says. “You’re a reason to stay.”She looks so surprised, taken aback that someone could say that about her, maybe, and Ted wishes he knew what to say, what to give her, to reassure her.“I’ll try,” Ted says. “I’ll stay.” There’s more to say, more to explain, more to learn, but he’s grateful for the start. Grateful for Rebecca and her beautiful heart.-She’s there the next morning, with Keeley and Roy and Phoebe too, and all Keeley says is, “Good on you. Roy was ready to kick your arse across the Thames if you didn’t figure your shit out,” and Ted just nods at her, nods at Roy, because he would’ve deserved it too. Henry leads Phoebe into the kitchen and they put their heads together mixing flavors for some of the whipped cream that Ted has left over. Ted can hear the quiet bickering that comes with childhood friendship, and it makes him smile, even as he reminds himself not to let it make him scared.“Work in prog-mess, I’d say,” Ted offers, “But I’m gettin’ there. Lucky enough to have this one willing to give me a chance.” He thumbs at Rebecca, who blushes over her teacup and pretends she doesn’t hear him. Roy just grunts and watches Keeley swipe her finger through the bright pink frosting on top of a chocolate cupcake.Henry and Phoebe come racing back in with a bowl full of yellow-colored cream. “We invented banana-lemon-mango whipped cream!” Henry says, a little out of breath. “I wanted to call it ‘Balema,’ like the first syllables of every flavor, but Phoebe said it should be ‘Yellow Surprise.’” He sticks his thumb in the bowl and holds it out to Ted to taste. “What do you think, Dad?”“I think that whipped cream is stayin’ just between us, probably, if you’ve had your hands all up in it,” he says, not really angry, and pretends to lean in to eat Henry’s thumb, getting a giggle out of him, before using his index finger to grab the dab of cream. “Mmm, it does have that certain je ne sais quois.” His twangy French gets a snort from both Rebecca and Roy, and he just grins, grabs a spoon from the counter and holds it out to Rebecca.“What do you think?” he asks, and instead of taking the utensil from him, she leans forward and wraps her lips around the bowl of the spoon, licking her lips with a quixotic grin that sets Ted’s heart racing a little bit. Keeley lets out a low whistle and Ted feels his face getting all hot, and just coughs before Henry can start asking any questions.“It certainly seems like a banana lemon mango surprise,” she says, and he just loves that she’s acting as a mediator, trying to give them both a win.“Go see if you can get that yellow mystery goop inside some profiteroles. Piping bags in the drawer,” Ted says, and Phoebe and Henry race back to the kitchen, leaving laughing adults in their wake. “Pheebs can hang out here if y’all got things you gotta do. She and Henry can make a mess of the kitchen to their hearts’ content.”Rebecca looks at him with soft eyes, like she can see how hard he’s trying, like she appreciates him for every little thing he does, and it almost makes him tear up because he’s not sure he’s ever had that before. Roy agrees to let Phoebe stay, and Keeley says something about taking Rebecca shopping, and there’s a flurry of activity as they all part ways, but Rebecca manages to press her lips to Ted’s cheek before she goes, smiling wide, just for him.A pattern develops, then, with Rebecca stopping by every other morning or so, drinking tea and taking whatever small baked offerings Ted makes for her. He hasn’t made the shortbread yet, the recipe just saved on his phone. He doesn’t really know what’s stopping him from making it - it’s not an involved recipe, he’s got all the ingredients on hand, but he just feels like he’ll know when the time is right.He tells Rebecca more about his father, more about the way they moved through the world when he was growing up, and how he learned to bake, and how he learned to see what people needed, even if it was just a friendly face with a warm pastry. “Y’know in ‘You’ve Got Mail,’ when Kathleen Kelly - one of Meg Ryan’s greatest performances, if I’m honest - says that she loves sellin’ books because they’re helping people become whoever it is they’re s’posed to be? Sometimes that’s what it feels like for me, like if someone’s having a hard day, but I can give ‘em a smile and a muffin or something, then it might turn things around? Or it might give ‘em something to remember later when things are bad? That there’s good out there, even just a glimmer.”Rebecca sniffs slightly, her eyes watery, and she just squeezes his hand. “I haven’t seen that film,” she says, clearing her throat, her voice just a little bit raspy.Ted holds onto her hand, grips it tightly as he widens his eyes and puts his other hand to his chest. “Rebecca, that’s practically blasphemy. You gotta see it - it’s one of the best romcoms out there!” She laughs, all husky and quick, and squeezes his fingers again.“Only if you’ll watch it with me,” she says softly, brave and beautiful and Ted’s heart aches a little bit.“It’s a date,” he says, and he’s rewarded with a smile that shines straight to his heart.They watch the movie at his place when Henry is at a sleepover. She tells him about her football team and explains the rules, and he definitely doesn’t understand what offsides is, but he can make her laugh while she moves pieces of popcorn around the coffee table to demonstrate the plays.Days blend together, and it’s easier to not feel scared when Rebecca’s right there with him, when she can remind him that it’s okay to belong with the way she smiles, and the feeling of her lips on his. The desire to run starts to wane, the words of his father fading as time goes on and no one pickets the bakery, or tells him he’s being annoying or over the top or too much.Rebecca tells him about her own parents, and Ted gets it, how she understands him, understands what it’s like to love someone and hate someone and not want to be them while also recognizing the parts of them that carry on.She invites him to an AFC Richmond, and Henry and Beard too, and brings them jackets and jerseys to wear and won’t let him pay her back. “It’s worth at least as much as the months of fresh baked goods you’ve given me.”“You haven’t been payin’ for those?!” he asks in fake shock, and likes the way her nose scrunches up when she laughs.-He’s been to football games in the US - the American kind - and he’s seen soccer a little when he’s watched the Olympics (always thought if he had a daughter, he’d name her Mia), and watched it a little more once he met Rebecca, but he’s never been in the owner’s box, never had the red carpet treatment at a stadium before.Henry is immediately taken with the fact that he can get any kind of pop he wants, and Ted doesn’t even tell him to take it easy. He’s wearing a jersey with Jamie Tartt’s number on it, and Ted has a jersey with Roy’s name on the back, knows Rebecca chose it to be funny, they’re both rewarded with a grunt and “fuck off,” which is exactly what they expected.Beard immediately gets into a strategy discussion with Roy, one that’s heavier on sounds than words, and Ted likes that his friend has a friend here too. Then Rebecca leads him to the seats, lets him hold her hand on the armrest, even with all the people around.“My life isn’t exactly private,” she’d told him once, and he knows about Rupert and the world she comes from, and he’d just said that he doesn’t mind, that what they’re building is private enough and she doesn’t have to say or do anything she doesn’t want to. Which led to what she called snogging for twenty minutes in the bakery kitchen until Henry yelled down the stairs about dinner.Ted doesn’t understand the game real well, but he knows which direction the ball is supposed to go in and can tell from Rebecca’s swearing when things are going good or bad (he’s never known how many tones the word “fuck” can have). He gets swept up in the cheers and learns the songs and Rebecca has to stop him from singing along to “Sweet Caroline” because “That’s Arsenal’s song, not ours. Unless it’s the Olympics.” And she’s probably gonna have to explain that more later, but he sits on his hands and bites his lips during the “bah bah bah”s.Richmond win, though, and he gets pulled into a bone-crunching hug. He knows she has strong arms, beautiful and muscular, but he hasn’t felt them quite like this and it makes his heart stutter. She leads him down to the field - and tells him it’s called a pitch on this side of the ocean - and he shakes hands with some of the players as they filter by and Rebecca offers her congratulations.He loves this insight into her, seeing how she is with the team and the coaches, how their faces turn to her, how their smiles widen. She’s beloved, he can tell, and she’s told him how hard she’s worked to eke out her place at AFC Richmond. He can see how well she’s succeeded.The excitement of the win carries them back to the Crown and Anchor and Rebecca buys everyone a round of drinks, gets a round of cheers in return. Beard offers to take Henry for the night with a waggle of his brows that Ted tries to ignore, but then Rebecca whispers, “Let them go, Ted” and then her teeth graze his earlobe and he just nods at Beard, gives Henry a quick hug goodbye.It’s like something has been loosed then, because Rebecca doesn’t move far from Ted at all, her fingers finding his hand or his thigh or the back of his neck. And he finds himself just as free with his touches, a little dance across her shoulders, a nudge to her hip, a press of his lips to her jaw. “Let’s go back to your place,” she says, when she’s just pulled back from kissing his cheek after he tosses a dart at the board, taking a turn in between some of the regulars. He feels like he’s halfway toward the door on instinct alone, their hands clasped together as she follows him with a goofy smile on her face that he just can’t wait to see over and over again.There’s been no discussion of where they’re going, of where this thing between them is headed, but Ted figures it’s just like the shortbread. They’d know when the time was right. And the time is now, because he’s leading her up the stairs to his flat, and she’s pushing his jacket off and pulling the Richmond jersey up over his head. “Do they make one with your name on it?” he asks with a grin, and Rebecca tips her head.“I’ll put an order request in on Monday,” she says. “And I can’t believe you’ve got a shirt on under your shirt. Why so many layers, Ted?” Her fingers toy with the hem of his white t-shirt, and the smile on his face just widens as he shrugs.“All the better for unwrapping, I guess,” and he crosses his arms, pulls it off in a swift movement that leaves his top half bare and Rebecca’s fingers go to his chest, nails scraping slightly, and then she kisses him again, and Ted thinks that maybe he’s been wrong this whole time. He wasn’t put on this earth to bake things and make people smile, he was put here to kiss Rebecca Welton, to hold her in his arms.She makes a noise in the back of her throat that has him pulling at the zipper of her skirt, desperate to do anything that makes her repeat that sound, her blouse already unbuttoned at some point he thinks neither of them were aware of. She’s as warm and soft as he thought she’d be, all smooth skin just dotted with a few freckles that he can’t wait to press his lips to.They make their way to his bedroom without really looking, and he’s just glad he’s got a small flat, not one they could get lost in with their minds so wrapped up in each other and not on where their feet are taking them. He manages to flick the light switch with his elbow, wanting to see Rebecca as clear as he can, golden hair and wide smile, fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.She’s already wet when his fingers slide inside of her, just pushing aside the small swatch of fabric, and he hears the hitch in her breath, the little sound she made before, and grins, pressing his smile into her neck as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, his hand finding a rhythm, his fingers moving in small circles, little flicks, and then her nails dig into his skin and she noses his face towards hers so they can meet in a sloppy kiss, so he can swallow the sounds she’s making, so he can keep them safe inside his own heart.He’s never thought much about his bed; it’s fine, it came with the flat, it does what he needs it to do. But with Rebecca in it, with Rebecca resting on his thighs, looking down at him, hands once more on his chest, he thinks his bed might actually be the best place in the whole world. His hands follow a path from her navel to her breasts, thumbs on her nipples, light presses, and she pushes back against him, deepening the contact, and he can just feel the heat between her legs and thinks he’s just about to lose his mind.When she slides down onto him, slow, so controlled, a wicked little grin on her face, he’s certain that he’ll never be truly sane again, because she’s absolutely driving him crazy. And she manages to hold herself off from coming just long enough that they can come together, his teeth scraping against her shoulder, his new favorite freckle just beneath his lips, and her mouth is wet and warm against his forehead before she collapses on top of him and he wraps her up in his arms, holds her close.“Better than a weighted blanket,” he hums into her hair and he hears the chuckle he loves, dry and low.She tells him that she’s never met anyone like him, that she’s glad she called him, she’s glad he eventually called her, that they figured this out. She tells him she thinks he might be one of the most important people she’s ever met. He tells her he thinks he’s in love. Her eyes are shiny when she kisses him, and his hand brushes against her cheek as she settles on her side, still all wrapped up in him, and they fall asleep.-Ted wakes up early, the sun just barely peeking above the horizon. Rebecca makes a small snuffling noise as he pulls himself out of the bed quietly and he just whispers, “I’ll be back, honey,” and she settles against the pillow. He resists the urge to brush back her hair, to touch her, to wake her up just so he can see her smile. He’ll let her sleep.In his kitchen, he pulls out flour and butter and sugar and vanilla and salt, the shortbread recipe burned in his mind from so many hours staring at it, trying to decide when to make it.It’s still warm when he cuts into it, makes twelve small rectangles from his pan and puts three on a little pink plate from his cupboard. Rebecca’s sitting up, going through her phone, sheet pulled up over her chest, and when their eyes meet, her face splits into a smile.“Made you this,” he says, holding the plate out to her as he slides back into bed.She holds one between her fingers, inspecting it, and then takes a bite. “Fuck me!” explodes from her mouth like she can’t help herself, and Ted just laughs, can’t help it. Thinks he’s never loved her more. Thinks every moment with her will just make him fall deeper and deeper.“It’s my favorite,” she says, and her eyes are watery again, and he just leans in to kiss her, tasting the buttery shortbread on her tongue. It might be his favorite too.She nestles against him, hair lightly tickling his nose, and he can smell the flowery scent of her perfume, slightly faded from the day before. He can feel the warm weight of her and thinks, maybe, after all these years, he’s been given back some of the magic he’s spent so long sharing. Rebecca sighs, a happy sound, her breath warm on his arm. Ted gently slides his fingers against her hand. He doesn’t feel like running.