England's Greatest-Chapter 138: An Adult Part 2 (End)

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Barbara stirred against the sheets, slowly blinking awake as soft morning light slipped through the cracks in the hotel curtains. The world outside was already moving, but inside this room, everything remained still, wrapped in warmth—the kind that made her want to stay exactly where she was.

Tristan's arm was draped over her waist, his bare chest rising and falling steadily beneath her cheek. His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady, and for a while, she just breathed him in, letting herself settle into the quiet.

It wasn't often that they woke up this late.

Most mornings, she was up by six or seven, depending on her schedule—early shoots, gym sessions, long workdays that demanded discipline. Tristan's mornings were just as relentless, usually dragging himself out of bed at six sharp for training. Even on rest days, his body was too wired for routine to let him sleep in for long.

But here, with no alarms and nowhere to be, time had slipped away from them. And Barbara found she didn't mind for the last three days.

Her fingers moved absently, tracing faint, lazy circles against his ribs. She tilted her head slightly, letting her gaze roam over his face—how peaceful he looked like this, his features softer in sleep, his curls tousled against the pillow. She had always thought he was beautiful, but there was something about this version of him—the quiet, unguarded one—that made her chest tighten.

Barbara shifted slightly, pressing herself closer against Tristan's warmth as the morning light crept through the curtains. She could hear the faint sounds of the city waking beyond the hotel walls, but here, wrapped in tangled sheets and the steady rhythm of his breathing, everything felt suspended in a quiet kind of peace.

Her lips brushed lazily against his jaw before she whispered, "You awake?"

Tristan let out a low, muffled groan, his grip instinctively tightening around her waist. Instead of answering, he buried his face deeper into the pillow, his body heavy with sleep.

Barbara smiled, her fingers tracing absent patterns against his ribs. "I'll take that as a no."

Tristan exhaled a slow breath, shifting slightly but keeping his eyes shut. "Mmm." His voice was thick with sleep. "Not happening."

Barbara tilted her head, pressing another kiss just below his ear. "Liar."

His brows knit together briefly before one eye cracked open, blinking sluggishly. "What time is it?"

She turned toward the nightstand, squinting at the numbers on the clock. "Almost ten."

That finally got a reaction. Tristan let out a deep sigh, pressing further into the mattress. "Jesus." His fingers skated lazily over her back, trailing up and down in slow, soothing strokes. "That's practically the afternoon."

Barbara huffed a quiet laugh. "Says the guy who wakes up at six even when he doesn't have to."

Tristan's arm curled more securely around her, anchoring her against him. "Force of habit." His voice was still laced with sleep, slow and content. "Might be the first time I've slept past six in months."

Barbara let her fingers drift lower, smoothing over the defined lines of his stomach. "You're welcome."

Tristan's breath came out slow, deep, completely relaxed. His hold on her never loosened. "Mmm. Let's stay here a little longer."

Barbara let out a soft hum, pressing her face into the warmth of his skin. "Thought you'd never ask."

Neither of them moved. The city outside carried on, time slipping past them unnoticed. But for now, nothing else mattered.

Barbara stretched, nudging Tristan's side as she shifted against him. "Come on, football star. Don't you have stuff to do?"

Tristan groaned dramatically, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah, yeah. You know damn well I've got nothing for a day or two." His arm curled more securely around her as he exhaled. "Let me enjoy it. Got a Europa League game next week if I remember correctly."

That caught her attention. Propping herself up on her elbow, she glanced down at him. "Against who?"

He stretched his arms above his head before letting them drop back down, one hand naturally finding her hip. "Kharkiv Metallurg."

Barbara blinked. "Do you even know where that is?"

His fingers absently traced circles against her skin, a slow, lazy motion. "I have a general idea."

Her brow lifted. "Which is?"

Tristan's gaze flickered toward the ceiling as if it might help him. "...Somewhere in Ukraine?"

Barbara let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Oh my God. Please tell me you at least know something about them."

Tristan turned onto his side, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Babe, I just play. I don't plan the geography lessons."

She sighed, still grinning. "Unbelievable."

His lips brushed her forehead before he flopped back onto the pillow. "Before that, though, the team owner's hosting some dinner for the squad. Don't know the exact date yet, but it's in a few days since we don't have a Premier League match coming up."

Barbara hummed, resting her chin against his chest. "Sounds fancy."

He shrugged. "Probably just a bunch of rich guys in suits talking about things that have nothing to do with football."

Barbara's fingers trailed absentmindedly over Tristan's chest, her nails barely skimming his skin. The morning light filtered in through the hotel curtains, casting a soft glow over them, but neither of them seemed in a rush to move.

She let out a thoughtful hum, tilting her head. "So... you need me to dress you properly for this team dinner?"

Tristan's lips twitched, eyes still half-lidded with sleep. "Excuse me?"

Barbara propped herself up slightly, resting her chin against his sternum. "You heard me," she mused. "I've seen the way you dress when left to your own devices." Her fingers tapped lightly against his ribs. "I'm taking over. Effective immediately."

Tristan exhaled a slow, exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand over his face. "Jesus. First my agent, now you."

Barbara flicked his forehead lightly. "Be serious. Do you want to show up looking like a lost teenager or like a man who runs the midfield?"

Tristan groaned, but his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. "Fine," he muttered. "Do your worst."

Barbara grinned. "Oh, I will."

For a moment, the conversation lulled, settling into something quieter as her fingers traced slow, absent patterns against his skin. Then Tristan shifted slightly, his hand skimming along her back.

"What about you?" His voice was softer now, curiosity threading through it. "What's your plan?"

Barbara hesitated, her fingers pausing at the hem of his shirt before exhaling lightly. "Nothing, really. I was supposed to go to LA for my birthday before—" she gave him a pointed look "—you happened."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

"I'm going back to Hungary," she murmured. "I haven't seen my parents in a while, so I figured I'd celebrate with them."

Tristan's thumb traced lazy circles against her hip. "You could still go to LA, you know." His voice was careful, even. "Party, go out with your friends. You don't have to go back home."

Barbara blinked. For a second, she just stared at him before reaching up and flicking his forehead again—this time with a little more force.

Tristan flinched. "Ow—what the hell?"

"I'm a grown woman," she said simply, tilting her head at him. "I can make my own decisions."

Tristan rubbed at the spot she flicked, shooting her an unimpressed look. "Yeah, clearly. Violence first thing in the morning."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but her voice was softer when she spoke again. "This is what I want, Tristan. My parents haven't seen me in months. My sister's been complaining about it for weeks." She exhaled, settling against him again. "I miss them."

Tristan studied her for a beat, his gaze steady. Then, without hesitation, he nodded. "That's fair. They probably miss you too."

Barbara watched him carefully, almost expecting something—a pout, a protest, a lingering look that said stay. But instead, he just looked... understanding.

That was the thing about Tristan. He could be possessive, made it clear how much he wanted her close, but he never tried to control her.

She let out a dramatic sigh, poking his side. "You're taking this too well."

Tristan tipped his head back against the pillow, eyes closed. "Babe, I already told you—go out, celebrate, have fun. I'm not gonna stop you."

Barbara narrowed her eyes playfully. "So you won't get jealous if I'm out at a bar with my friends?"

His eyes snapped open, deadpan. "I never said that."

Barbara laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his chest before shaking her head. "Look, it's a relationship. We both have to make sacrifices."

Tristan arched an eyebrow. "Sacrifices?"

She nodded, resting her chin against his chest. "Mhm. And right now, that means you're sacrificing a whole week without me."

Tristan groaned, running a hand through his curls. "Tragic."

Barbara giggled, pressing a lingering kiss to his jaw. "I'll make it up to you."

His fingers skimmed lazily down her spine. "I'll hold you to that."

Barbara playfully rolled her eyes before suddenly remembering something. "Oh, wait." She perked up slightly, glancing at him. "Did you know we were both born on the 8th?"

Tristan frowned. "What?"

Barbara grinned. "Yeah. I was born on October 8th. You were born on June 8th."

Tristan hummed, tilting his head. "Huh. So we were destined for each other."

Barbara let out a soft laugh, brushing her nose against his. "Obviously."

Tristan pulled her closer, his voice quieter now. "Guess I can't argue with fate, then."

Barbara sighed contently, her body melting into his warmth. "Nope. You're stuck with me now."

Tristan kissed the top of her head, his voice a murmur against her hair. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Barbara was still curled up in bed, Tristan's hoodie slipping off her shoulder as she scrolled lazily through his phone. The list of houses Sophia had sent flickered across the screen, sleek modern designs, sprawling gardens, oversized floor-to-ceiling windows.

Behind her, Tristan stretched, his muscles shifting under the sheets as he ran a hand through his curls. His voice came out thick with sleep. "Find anything good?"

Barbara tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie, absently pulling them over her hands. "Mmm. A few... but I don't know, Tristan." She turned the phone slightly, scrolling through another listing. "Some of these are so boring."

Tristan cracked one eye open, his brows lifting. "Boring?"

She turned the screen toward him, pointing at a particularly sleek listing—sharp edges, white walls, a space that felt more showroom than home. "Look at this one. It's like a hotel lobby. Where's the personality?"

Tristan huffed out a quiet laugh, stealing the phone from her hands. "Babe, I need privacy, space, and a home gym. I'm not looking for a palace."

Barbara laughed, shifting so she could rest her chin on his shoulder. "You say that now, but the second I find a house with a cinema room, you're gonna be obsessed."

Tristan stilled for half a second before narrowing his eyes at her. "Hold on. Us?"

Barbara blinked. "What?"

"You said us like you're moving in already."

Her lips parted slightly before she scoffed, reaching to snatch the phone back. "Shut up."

Tristan leaned back against the headboard, grinning. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Just let me know if I need to clear out a closet for you."

Barbara ignored him, flipping through more listings. "Okay, this one's actually nice," she admitted, pausing on a five-bedroom house just outside Leicester's city center. "Big garden, tall fences, open kitchen. And a home gym. See? I listen."

Tristan hummed, leaning in to get a better look. This time, he actually considered it. "Not bad."

Barbara nudged his side. "Not bad? Look at this bathroom. It's massive."

Tristan glanced sideways at her, amused. "What do you even need a massive bathroom for?"

Barbara shot him an incredulous look. "Excuse you, do you know how much time I spend on skincare?"

His hand slid lazily up her thigh, his fingers warm against her skin. "Your skin's already perfect, babe."

Barbara bit back a smile but kept scrolling. "Flattery won't get you out of this."

Tristan sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine. Show me the next one."

She flipped through a few more, pausing every so often to make comments that had Tristan shaking his head.

"This one has a wine cellar!"

"Babe, I don't even drink wine."

"Oh my God, this closet is huge. I need this."

"For my house?"

"...Do you need a golf course?"

"...No."

Eventually, they narrowed it down to three houses. Tristan stretched, taking the phone back. "Alright. We'll visit these and see how they feel in person."

Barbara cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, so I'm your personal interior designer now?"

Tristan didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

She pretended to consider it, lips twitching. "Fine. But if I'm helping, we're getting a cinema room."

Tristan chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "We'll see."

Barbara flopped back onto the pillows, stretching her arms over her head as a slow smile pulled at her lips. "Feels like we're building a future together."

Tristan didn't answer right away. His gaze softened slightly, his hand settling against her hip. "Maybe we are."

Barbara turned her head, studying his face, the easy certainty in his expression. A warmth spread through her chest, something quiet but deep.

"You ready for that?" she asked.

Tristan didn't even blink. "With you? Yeah."

Barbara smiled, rolling onto her side to rest her head against his chest.

They had a lot to figure out.

But for now? This was enough.

Tristan typed out a quick text, his thumb moving easily over the screen.

Tristan: Set up the viewings for today. We'll go after breakfast.

Barbara, still curled up on her side, peeked over at him. "Took you long enough," she mused, resting her chin on her hand. "I thought you'd be dragging your feet on this."

Tristan tossed his phone onto the nightstand before stretching, his muscles shifting under the sheets. "Please," he said, voice still thick with sleep. "I already know you won't let me pick the wrong house."

Barbara grinned, flipping onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. "Exactly. You need supervision."

Tristan scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Yeah, yeah."

She stretched lazily before sitting up. "So... breakfast first?"

Tristan glanced back at her, one eyebrow lifting. "When have you ever skipped a meal?"

Barbara gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Wow. I feel so attacked."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed a black T-shirt and jeans. Barbara pulled on a fitted turtleneck and boots, running a hand through her hair before grabbing her bag.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he pocketed his keys.

Tristan shrugged. "Somewhere with coffee. And something that isn't just cheese."

Barbara stopped mid-step, her expression one of pure betrayal. "You wound me."

Tristan rolled his eyes, grabbing her wrist and tugging her toward the door. "Come on, dairy goblin."

Barbara let out a dramatic sigh but laughed, letting him pull her along.

Leicester was slowly coming to life around them—shopkeepers unlocking their doors, the distant hum of traffic, the occasional bark of a dog from a passing runner.

Barbara laced her fingers with Tristan's, squeezing lightly as they walked. "So, where are we actually going?" she asked, glancing up at him. "Or are you just wandering until we stumble into a place?"

Tristan scoffed, glancing down at her. "Babe, please. I do, in fact, have a plan."

Barbara arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? And where exactly is this plan taking us?"

He answered with a smile, "Somewhere with good coffee and food that isn't just—"

Barbara shot him a warning look. "Say cheese, and I swear—"

Tristan let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Guess I'll have to reconsider moving in together, then."

Barbara gasped, smacking his arm. "Tristan Hale!"

His laughter rumbled low in his chest as he tugged her closer.

A few minutes later, they reached a small, modern café nestled between a row of boutiques. The scent of fresh espresso and buttery pastries drifted into the street, wrapping around them the moment they stepped inside.

Barbara inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut for a second. "Okay, fine. You chose well."

Tristan shot her a smug look. "See? You need to trust me more."

Barbara rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile.

They placed their orders—Tristan sticking to his usual coffee and eggs with toast, while Barbara got a croissant and an oat milk latte.

Sliding into a cozy booth by the window, Barbara stirred her latte lazily. The warmth of the cup seeped into her hands, grounding her. She watched Tristan take a slow sip of his coffee before tilting her head. "You realize you're about to become an actual homeowner today?"

Tristan nodded, exhaling through his nose. "Yeah." He swirled his coffee absently before taking another sip. "Feels weird."

Barbara studied him, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "Good weird or bad weird?"

Tristan thought for a second, rolling his shoulders. "Somewhere in between." He glanced out the window, watching the street outside.

In his first life, he moved out, yeah. But it was to these tiny, cheap apartments—just saving money, scraping by. Not buying a million-pound house.

He exhaled, running a hand through his curls. "It's different now. Feels like... starting something."

Barbara's gaze softened. "It is starting something."

Tristan's fingers tapped idly against his cup before he looked back at her. "Kinda feels like we're starting something together."

Barbara took a slow sip of her latte, watching him over the rim of her cup. "We are." She set her drink down, her lips curving slightly. "And since I'm helping you pick, I technically have partial ownership."

Tristan huffed a quiet laugh. "Oh yeah? You want your name on the deed, too?"

Barbara grinned. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. We'll see."

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, the café's soft morning chatter filling the background. Tristan occasionally reached over to steal bites of her croissant, much to Barbara's annoyance.

She shot him a look, pulling her plate closer. "You have your own food, you know."

Tristan smiled, swiping another bite. "Yeah, but yours tastes better."

Barbara groaned but didn't stop him from taking more bites.

Tristan checked his phone as they finished breakfast, a message from Sophia popping up on the screen.

Sophia: First viewing at 11. Claire will meet you there.

He slid his phone back into his pocket and stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, first house is at eleven." His gaze flicked to Barbara. "You ready to be overly critical of every single one?"

Barbara chuckled, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Obviously. That's the best part."

Tristan chuckled as they stepped out of the café, the crisp autumn air wrapping around them.

By the time they pulled up to the first house, Barbara was already flipping through the listing Sophia had sent.

"Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, nice kitchen," she mused, sunglasses perched on her nose as she scrolled. "Big windows. A lot of natural light."

Tristan rested his forearm against the steering wheel, eyeing the sleek, glass-heavy structure in front of them. "Looks like a showroom."

Barbara hummed, tilting her head. "I can see that." She shut off her phone and unbuckled her seatbelt. "But let's give it a chance."

Claire and Sophia were already waiting outside, standing near the entrance. Claire, a middle-aged woman with brown hair dressed professionally, greeted them with a polite smile.

"Mr. Hale, Miss Palvin," she said, shaking both their hands. "Hope you're ready to find a house today."

Barbara smiled. "That's the plan."

Claire nodded and gestured toward the front door. "Shall we?"

They stepped inside, and Barbara immediately noticed how the sunlight streamed in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. It was open, sleek—modern to the point of feeling a little too pristine.

Tristan walked a few steps in, hands in his pockets as he took in the sharp edges, the minimalist white walls, the carefully staged furniture.

Barbara glanced at him. "Be honest."

Tristan exhaled, shaking his head. "Doesn't feel like home."

She nodded. "It's nice, but it's missing something. Feels too... impersonal."

Claire, ever professional, smiled smoothly. "It's a contemporary design—very open, clean lines, great lighting."

Tristan glanced around once more before meeting Barbara's gaze.

"Nope," she said before he could even ask.

Tristan huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, not this one."

Sophia, already making notes, sighed. "On to the next."

The second house was nothing like the first.

"Character," Claire called it.

Barbara had another word. "Massive."

It wasn't just big—it was grand, with ivy creeping up the stone exterior, an elegant staircase, and rooms that seemed to go on forever.

Tristan let out a low whistle as they stepped inside. "Feels like I should be hosting royal dinners."

Barbara ran her hand along the dark wooden bannister. "Or solving a murder mystery."

Sophia flipped through the listing. "Eight bedrooms. Six bathrooms. A wine cellar."

Barbara turned to Tristan, amused. "Do you drink wine now?"

"I could start." Tristan answered lying through his mouth.

Claire clasped her hands together. "This is a property with history. Beautifully maintained—"

"It's too much house," Barbara said simply.

Tristan nodded, glancing around. "Yeah. Feels excessive."

Barbara gestured vaguely at the sheer size of the place. "And imagine cleaning this."

Tristan blinked. "Oh, hell no. Next house."

Sophia sighed but didn't argue.

The third house was different. Modern, but warm. Spacious, but not overwhelming.

Barbara walked into the kitchen first, running her fingers over the marble countertops. "Okay, this one's actually... good."

Tristan leaned against the island, watching her. "Yeah?"

She opened and closed a cabinet, testing the space. "Feels real. Like someone actually lives here—not just a showpiece."

Tristan moved through the open-plan living room, taking in the high ceilings, the cozy seating area by the fireplace.

"I like it," he admitted.

Barbara glanced over, her lips curving. "Oh, you like it?"

Tristan shot her a look. "Don't start."

Sophia crossed her arms, nodding slightly. "This is a strong contender."

Barbara hummed, glancing around again. "Still... not the one."

Tristan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright. One more."

The fourth and final house sat in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood.

Barbara stepped out of the car, breathing in the crisp air. "I like this area."

Tristan shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping the street. "Yeah. Feels... normal."

Claire led them to the front door, unlocking it smoothly. "I have a good feeling about this one."

The second they stepped inside, Barbara felt it.

It was warm—not just in temperature, but in atmosphere. The layout was open, but not cold. Wooden accents softened the modern design. The kitchen was sleek yet homey. And the backyard? Private, with a nice patio and a small garden area.

Tristan moved deeper into the space, his fingers skimming the edge of the kitchen island. "Yeah. This is it."

Barbara wandered into the living room, peeking into one of the bedrooms. "I can actually picture you here."

Tristan turned, tilting his head. "Us."

Barbara stilled for half a second before meeting his gaze. This time, she didn't correct him.

Sophia, sensing the shift, asked. "So, am I locking this one in?"

Tristan exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. This is the one."

Barbara smiled, slipping her hand into his. "Good choice."

Tristan gave her fingers a squeeze. "Thanks for helping." Barbara grinned.

Claire nodded, already pulling out her paperwork. "Alright! Sophia and I will handle the logistics. You two are free to take your time exploring."

Barbara's eyes brightened. "Oh, we're absolutely doing that."

Sophia barely hid a laugh. "Try not to rearrange the furniture while we're gone."

Barbara only smiled, tugging Tristan toward the hallway.

They wandered through the house together, stepping into rooms and imagining how they'd look once they were lived in.

Barbara lingered in the kitchen, picturing lazy mornings with coffee, hearing the low hum of Tristan's voice while he flipped through match footage. Tristan leaned against a doorway, watching her quietly, as if already seeing it too.

By the time Sophia and Claire returned, the house didn't just look right—it felt right.

Tristan threw an arm around Barbara's shoulders as they stepped outside, letting the weight of the decision settle in.

"Well," he murmured. "Guess I'm officially moving out."

Barbara leaned into him. "And starting something new."

Tristan pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice quieter now. "With you."

Tristan scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over his dad's name. He didn't hesitate this time, just tapped the call button and brought the phone to his ear.

The line barely rang twice before his father picked up.

"Tristan."

"Hey, Dad," Tristan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You busy?"

"Not particularly. What's on your mind?" His dad answered with a monotone voice.

Barbara, lounging on the couch across from him, made a show of flipping through a magazine, but Tristan didn't miss how her eyes flicked up every few seconds.

"I need you and Mom to come see the house," he said simply, glancing around. "The new one."

There was no pause of surprise, no shock—just a quiet hum of acknowledgment. "So, you finally settled on a place."

Tristan huffed. "Took a while, but yeah."

"Good," His dad said. "This was the right move."

Before Tristan could respond, a sharper voice cut in from the background.

"Is that my son? The same son who's apparently moving out and just now telling me?"

Tristan pulled the phone slightly away, bracing himself.

Barbara bit her lip, barely holding back a laugh.

"Mum," Tristan sighed. "You knew this was happening."

She was not easily pacified. "Yes, but you didn't say anything. That's different."

Tristan exhaled, already knowing this was going to be a process. "I'm saying something now."

Barbara shook her head, setting her magazine aside. "You are so bad at this," she muttered.

Julia wasn't finished. "And where is this house? What's wrong with the old one?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," Tristan said, stretching his legs out in front of him. "But I need more privacy. And so do you guys as well."

Julia still wasn't convinced. "And who helped you pick it?"

Tristan's gaze flicked to Barbara. "Barbara."

Barbara's fingers twitched against the fabric of his hoodie. She hadn't expected him to just throw her name out there like that.

Silence. Then—

"Oh."

Tristan bit back a laugh. "Yeah. Oh."

His mum's voice returned, suspiciously neutral. "Well... of course we're coming. Send me the address."

Tristan didn't bother fighting it. He was already typing. "See you soon."

As he hung up, Barbara arched an eyebrow. "That went... suspiciously well."

Tristan tossed his phone onto the counter. "Yeah, well. She's gonna have a lot of questions."

Barbara exhaled, tucking her legs beneath her. "Should I be nervous?"

Tristan pushed off the counter and crossed the room, dropping onto the couch beside her. "No," he said, then after a second— "Maybe a little."

Barbara groaned, flopping onto her back. "Fantastic."

Tristan chuckled, reaching over to pull her up again. "Relax. She's gonna love you."

Barbara searched his face. "And if she doesn't?"

His lips twitched. "Too bad. I'm dating you."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but her heart flipped.

She sighed dramatically, draping her arms around his neck. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Tristan grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "That's the spirit."

.....

Thirty Minutes Later

The front door swung open, and Ling stepped inside first, dressed in a simple button-down and dark jeans. He gave the house a brief glance, taking it in without a word.

Julia, however, was already making a beeline for Barbara. She wore a casual white blouse and beige trousers, but it wasn't her outfit that stood out—it was the pure excitement radiating off of her.

The second her eyes landed on Barbara, her face lit up.

"Oh my God," she breathed, a wide smile spreading across her face. "So, you're Barbara."

Before Barbara could even react, Julia closed the distance, taking both of her hands in hers.

"You are even more beautiful in person," she gushed.

Barbara blinked, slightly thrown off by the enthusiasm. "Oh—thank you, I—"

"I've seen all the pictures and videos" Julia continued, beaming.

he turned to Ling, nudging him lightly. "Didn't I say that? They were adorable."

Ling, who had been quietly taking in the house, gave a small nod. "You did."

Barbara, still a little stunned, managed a smile. "It's really nice to meet you, Mrs. Hale."

"Oh, please." Julia squeezed her hands once before letting go. "Julia."

Barbara nodded. "Julia."

Tristan, standing off to the side, just sighed. "Should I come back when you two are done bonding?"

Julia waved him off, looping her arm through Barbara's with a smile. "Relax, I'm just getting started."

Tristan, watching the whole exchange unfold, let out a quiet chuckle. "Alright, are we gonna stand in the doorway all day, or are we actually going inside?"

Julia waved him off without looking at him, her arm still comfortably linked with Barbara's. "Relax, I just want to look at her for a second." She turned to Barbara, lowering her voice to a playful whisper. "I mean, Tristan—finally."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "Finally?"

Julia grinned. "He's never had a girlfriend before."

Barbara's gaze flicked to Tristan, who just sighed, running a hand down his face. "Mom."

Ling, standing beside them, smiled slightly. "You didn't warn her, did you?"

"Nope," Tristan muttered watching his mom and Barbara.

Barbara had been nervous before, but now? She wasn't so sure.

Once inside, Julia finally let go of Barbara (reluctantly) and turned her attention to the house. She took in the open space, the natural light, the layout—her sharp gaze flicking from detail to detail.

"Mmm." She nodded, looking impressed. "This is nice."

Ling, more understated, gave his own quiet approval. "Good size. Good location."

Tristan leaned casually against the kitchen island. "Yeah, it took a while, but we felt this house was the right one."

Julia's eyes lit up all over again. "Oh." She turned to Barbara, studying her for a moment before nodding approvingly. "Well, of course. You have taste."

Barbara let out a quiet breath, her shoulders easing.

As they moved through the house, Ling walked in quiet observation, occasionally nodding or testing the feel of a room. Julia, on the other hand, commented on everything.

Barbara was starting to get the feeling she wasn't just here for a house tour—Julia was getting to know her, too.

In the kitchen, Tristan gestured toward the sleek countertops and high-end appliances. "Best part. Felix is gonna love it."

Ling lifted an eyebrow. "Felix?"

Barbara smiled. "His private chef."

Julia's head snapped toward Tristan. "You got a private chef?"

Tristan shrugged, completely unbothered. "Did you really think I was cooking for myself?"

Barbara snorted. She couldn't help it.

Julia turned to her, narrowing her eyes playfully. "You find this funny?"

Barbara pressed her lips together, trying to regain composure. "A little."

Julia sighed, shaking her head fondly. "Unbelievable."

Tristan just grinned. "You raised me."

Ling, who had remained silent through most of this, let out a low chuckle.

Barbara liked him.

When they reached the master bedroom, Julia stepped inside, arms crossed. Her eyes flickered across the space before landing on Tristan.

"And you're living here alone?"

Barbara froze.

Tristan, as always, was composed. "Yeah."

Julia's gaze slid to Barbara.

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Barbara met her eyes head-on and answered before Julia could ask. "I have my own place."

Julia hummed, considering that for a moment. "Mm."

Ling, standing near the doorway, finally spoke again. "It's a good house."

Tristan nodded. "I think so too."

Julia exhaled, finally breaking into a smile. "Well. If you're serious about this, I suppose there's no point in arguing."

Barbara blinked. That's it?

Tristan wrapping an arm around Barbara's waist. "Glad we agree."

Julia gave him a look, but her lips twitched—like she was holding back a smile.

Barbara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

This wasn't going to be so bad after all.

As they headed back downstairs, Julia looped her arm through Barbara's again, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "So, tell me. How did you get my son to finally settle down?"

Barbara laughed, shooting Tristan a glance. "Oh, he's not settled yet."

Julia's smile widened. "Good. Keep him on his toes."

Tristan groaned. "Mom, please."

Ling, ever neutral, simply adjusted his watch. "We should head out. Let you settle in."

Julia sighed, but not before giving Barbara one final once-over. Then, satisfied, she nodded. "It was so lovely meeting you, sweetheart."

Barbara smiled, genuinely this time. "You too."

Julia squeezed her hand before turning back to Tristan. "And you—don't screw this up."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Barbara just laughed.

After Tristant's parents left, they headed straight for Leicester's high-end shopping district.

The boutique doors swung open with a soft chime, the scent of expensive fabric and polished wood filling the air. The store was sleek—marble floors, warm lighting, racks of neatly arranged designer pieces. It was the kind of place where the staff smiled just the right amount, ready to assist but never overbearing.

Barbara stepped inside first, already scanning the selection with a practiced eye. She knew exactly what she was looking for: something elegant but not over the top, end of the day it was just a dinner party.

Tristan followed behind her.He didn't hate shopping—he just didn't do it often. Most of his wardrobe were cheap shirts and pants. Even with all the money, he didn't feel spending thousands on clothes; Nikes were good enough for him.

Barbara, on the other hand, thrived in places like this.

As she made a beeline for the dresses, Tristan trailed beside her, hands in his pockets. "So, what's the strategy here? Are we here for hours, or am I walking out of here in under thirty minutes?"

Barbara already pulling a navy-blue dress off the rack. "Depends. Are you going to cooperate?"

Tristan glanced at the dress in her hands. "That for you?"

She nodded. "You like it?"

He eyed the deep navy fabric, the structured yet soft draping of the material. "Yeah. It's classy."

Barbara smiled, pleased, then gestured toward the suit section. "Your turn."

Tristan exhaled, stepping toward the racks of blazers and dress shirts. He ran his fingers along the different fabrics, considering his options. "So, black suit, right? Simple. Clean."

Barbara shook her head, stopping him before he could grab one. "Let's make this interesting."

He gave her a wary look. "How interesting?"

A slow smile spread across her lips. "We pick each other's outfits."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You want me to choose your dress?"

Barbara shrugged, playful. "Why not? Let's see if you actually have taste."

Tristan chuckled, reaching for a deep emerald green gown, the silk catching the light beautifully. "Try this."

Barbara took it, inspecting the cut. It was sleek but elegant, with a fitted bodice and a soft, flowing skirt. She glanced up at him, impressed. "Not bad."

Tristan grinned. "Told you."

Barbara turned back to the racks, scanning the suit section before her fingers stopped on something unexpected—a dark charcoal suit, textured subtly, paired with a midnight blue dress shirt instead of the usual white. The contrast was sharp but refined.

She pulled it out, holding it up. "You always wear black. Try something new."

Tristan took the hanger from her, running a thumb over the material. He nodded. "Alright. Let's see how we did."

Barbara stepped out first, adjusting the straps of the emerald gown as she turned toward the mirrors. The fabric hugged her torso before flowing effortlessly to the floor, the subtle shimmer catching the light with each step.

Tristan had been fixing his cufflinks when he looked up—and paused.

Barbara caught the flicker of something in his expression before he schooled it into something neutral.

She arched an eyebrow. "That bad?"

Tristan let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Not even close."

Barbara turning slightly to check the fit. "You actually have taste, Hale."

Tristan leaned against the doorframe of his fitting room, arms crossed. "Told you."

Barbara's gaze flicked down to the charcoal suit draped over his arm. "Your turn."

Tristan disappeared into the fitting room, and when he stepped back out, Barbara had to admit—she had nailed it.

The charcoal suit fit perfectly, tailored to his frame without being too tight. The midnight blue shirt beneath it gave just the right contrast, the open collar keeping it from looking too formal.

Barbara tilted her head, walking around him in slow evaluation. "Mmm."

"That a good mmm or a bad mmm?" Tristan asked.

Barbara stopped in front of him, arms crossed. "You look like a man who knows exactly what he's doing."

Tristan stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. "And you look like a woman who just won her bet."

Barbara hummed, eyes flicking to his suit again. "Yeah. I did good."

Tristan chuckled, hands slipping into his pockets. "Fine. I'll admit it. You have taste."

Barbara smiled, satisfied, before leaning up to press a quick kiss to his jaw. "Let's pay before I find something else for you to try on."

Tristan, still grinning, grabbed his wallet and followed her to the register.

Barbara sighed the moment she stepped inside The Gresham Aparthotel, dropping her shopping bag onto the couch without a second thought. "I don't think I've ever walked this much in a single day."

Tristan was already kicking off his shoes near the door, stretching his arms above his head. "That's what happens when you insist on going to three different stores."

She shot him a look, pulling her hair loose from its tie. "And now you have the perfect outfit. You should be thanking me."

Instead of responding, Tristan collapsed onto the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. Can't wait to sit through a three-hour dinner where I'm the main attraction."

Barbara nudged his knee with hers. "At least you'll get good food out of it."

Before she could pull away, Tristan grabbed her wrist, tugging her into his lap. "I'd rather stay here with you," he admitted, voice quieter this time.

Barbara laughed, but the warmth in his tone made her chest tighten just a little. She let herself relax against him, fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric of his shirt. Outside, the city lights flickered against the windows, casting a dim glow over the room.

"You ever think about how fast everything's moving?" she asked after a moment, her voice thoughtful.

Tristan's hand, which had been resting on her back, started moving again, slow and deliberate. "Yeah," he said simply.

Barbara hesitated before tilting her head to meet his gaze. "And you're good with it?"

His lips brushed against her forehead, lingering there before he finally murmured, "Yeah. I'm good with it."

She studied his expression, searching for any sign of doubt. "You sure?"

Tristan flicked her nose lightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Babe. You overthink way too much."

Barbara swatted his hand away. "And you don't think enough."

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as his arms tightened around her. "Maybe. But when something feels right, I don't see the point in questioning it."

Barbara exhaled, letting that sink in. There was something grounding about how certain he was, how easily he trusted things to fall into place.

She shifted slightly, curling her leg over his, fingers trailing absently along his stomach. "This is nice," she murmured, her body already sinking further into his warmth.

Tristan hummed, eyes half-lidded. "Told you I'm comfy."

Barbara smiled against his skin, her breathing slowing, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into sleep.

....

The first thing Barbara registered as she stirred awake was warmth—not just from the blankets, but from him. Tristan's arm was draped around her waist, holding her close, his slow, even breaths fanning against the back of her neck. His fingers flexed slightly against her stomach, as if even in sleep, he wasn't willing to let her go.

She blinked, still hazy with sleep, before a small, contented smile tugged at her lips.

For a moment, she didn't move, just listening to the quiet hum of the city outside and the faint rustle of fabric as Tristan shifted behind her. Then, with a sleepy groan, he buried his face into her hair, his voice rough, still laced with sleep.

"Mmm. Too early," he muttered, his grip tightening around her waist.

Barbara tilting her head slightly. "You don't even know what time it is."

Tristan sighed, nuzzling against her. "Don't care."

Barbara huffed out a soft laugh, fingers grazing over the back of his hand. "Big bad footballer doesn't wanna get up?"

"Not today," he murmured, pulling her closer, his body molding perfectly against hers.

Rolling onto her back, Barbara glanced up at him, eyes scanning his sleep-ruffled curls and the way his green eyes barely peeked open. "Skipping training? Scandalous."

Tristan cracked one eye open. "I don't have training today, smartass."

Barbara gasped, feigning shock as she pressed a hand to her chest. "So, you're actually free?"

His lips brushed against hers, teasingly close. "Unfortunately for you, yeah."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately?"

Before she could say anything else, he kissed her.

Slow, warm, unhurried—the kind of kiss that made time stretch and her heart stumble slightly in her chest. His hand slid over her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of his hoodie—her hoodie now—like he had no intention of letting her go.

By the time she pulled back, Barbara was brushing her thumb lazily along his jaw. "You're annoying."

She stretched her arms over her head, letting out a soft yawn before glancing over at Tristan. "So, what's the plan for today?"

Still lying back against the pillows, Tristan ran a hand through his curls, his voice thick with sleep. "Team dinner later. Other than that... nothing."

Barbara tilted her head, considering. "We could get breakfast first."

Tristan's fingers trailed absentmindedly along her thigh, his touch slow and warm. "Yeah, sounds good."

She sat up slightly, adjusting the hoodie she was still wrapped up in. "Any place you usually go?"

Tristan gave her a look, one brow raising slightly. "Babe, I literally take the team out for breakfast all the time. I know where to go."

Barbara scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, so now you're a breakfast expert?"

Instead of answering, Tristan grabbed his phone from the nightstand, scrolling for a second before holding it up. "This place. Best breakfast in Leicester. No argument."

Barbara leaned in, glancing at the screen before nodding. "Alright, fine. You win this round."

Shoving the blankets off herself, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "Get up. We're going."

Tristan groaned dramatically, burying his face into the pillow. "Five more minutes."

Barbara barely glanced at him before yanking the blanket away. "Nope."

With a sigh that was way too exaggerated, Tristan ran a hand down his face before finally sitting up. "Fine. But only because you're cute."

Barbara shot him a knowing look. "And because you're starving."

Before she could stand, Tristan grabbed her wrist and pulled her effortlessly into his lap.

She let out a surprised yelp, hands landing on his shoulders as he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was slow, deep—enough to make her forget for a second why she was even trying to leave.

When she finally pulled back, breath a little uneven, she tapped his chest lightly. "Breakfast first, then whatever this is."

Tristan exhaled, resting his forehead against hers for a second before letting her go. "Alright, alright. Let's go eat."

With one last glance, he watched as she grabbed some clothes to change, already knowing he was going to spend the whole morning thinking about getting her right back in his lap again.

Half a Day Later...

The restaurant was one of Leicester's finest—an upscale, dimly lit spot reserved for occasions like this. The entire squad, along with their partners, filled the private dining space, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clinking of glasses and silverware. The club owners, board members, and key staff were in attendance too, but tonight was mostly about the players—about bonding, celebrating how far they had come in just six weeks of the season.

Stepping out of the car, Tristan adjusted the cuffs of his black dress shirt, glancing toward Barbara as she joined him.

Barbara, catching his lingering gaze, smirked. "See something you like?"

Tristan exhaled through his nose, stepping closer, his hand finding the small of her back as they walked toward the entrance. "You already know the answer to that."

Inside, the room was buzzing with energy. Laughter spilled from one corner, conversations overlapping as drinks were passed around.

At one end, Jamie Vardy—already a pint in—was gesturing wildly as he told some exaggerated story to a few teammates. His girlfriend at the time, Becky Nicholson, stood beside him, shaking her head but clearly entertained.

Kasper Schmeichel was deep in conversation with Wes Morgan and Esteban Cambiasso, the trio laughing over something from training.

Near the bar, Riyad Mahrez and Jesse Lingard leaned against the counter, drinks in hand, likely debating something between football, fashion, or FIFA.

And then—

"Oi, Tristan!"

Vardy's voice rang out, cutting through the chatter. His grin widened as he took in the sight of Tristan walking in with Barbara.

"Look who finally decided to show up."

Tristan sighed. "Here we go."

Vardy, still grinning, nudged Lingard. "And look who he brought with him."

The teasing started immediately.

Schmeichel shook his head, amused. "Didn't think we'd ever see the day—Tristan actually bringing someone to a team dinner."

Cambiasso grinned. "Thought football was your only relationship, mate."

Lingard nudged Mahrez. "He's gone soft."

Mahrez lifted his glass. "I like it. He needed someone to keep him from being miserable all the time."

Barbara, thoroughly entertained, turned to Tristan. "Miserable, huh?"

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. "I actually hate every single one of them."

Barbara fought back a smile. "Seems like they love you, though."

Vardy extended a hand to her. "Vardy. You probably already know I'm the best-looking one here."

Barbara laughed, shaking his hand. "Right. That's what they say about you."

Vardy narrowed his eyes playfully. "Oi, Tristan, I like her."

Tristan sighed. "God help me."

The rest of the team introduced themselves, most already familiar with Barbara from headlines and social media, but now seeing her in person was different.

Becky was the first to pull her aside. "Finally, someone to balance him out." She smile glancing at Tristan, who was mid-conversation with Schmeichel. "He's a good one, though. Just don't let him get too serious all the time."

Barbara smiled. "I think I'm already working on that."

Becky raised her glass. "Good. He needs it."

The night was loud, chaotic, and exactly the kind of atmosphere that made Leicester feel more like a family than just a club.

Plates of steak, seafood, and pasta were passed around, drinks flowing easily—some players with pints, others with wine, a few sticking to water, trying to be professional.

The night stretched on, laughter and conversation buzzing as the team soaked in the atmosphere despite the recent 2-0 loss to Crystal Palace.

Eventually, players and their partners started saying their goodbyes—some heading home, others keeping the night going at another bar.

Tristan and Barbara lingered a little longer, caught up in conversation with Vardy and Becky before finally making their way out.

The cool night air wrapped around them as they stepped outside, Leicester's streets quieter now, the usual buzz of the city settling into a soft hum. Streetlights flickered against the pavement, casting long shadows as they walked.

Barbara stretched her arms slightly before wrapping them around herself. "That was fun," she said, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the night's energy.

Tristan slid a hand into his pocket, glancing at her. "Yeah," he admitted, exhaling. "Feels good to have a night like this."

She turned her head toward him, a teasing smirk playing at her lips. "Even with all the attention on you?"

A quiet laugh escaped him, his thumb brushing against the side of her hand before he laced their fingers together. "Could've done without that part."

Barbara squeezed his hand, letting her gaze linger on him for a moment. "Well," she said softly, "I'm proud of you."

Tristan's steps slowed just a little. His expression shifted, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "Yeah?"

Barbara nodded, her voice warm. "Mhm."

Without a word, Tristan reached for his jacket, shrugging it off before draping it over her shoulders. The movement was so smooth, so natural, that Barbara barely had time to react.

She sighed, rolling her eyes even as she pulled the fabric tighter around herself. "You know I wasn't complaining, right?"

Tristan grinned. "I know."

Letting out a small laugh, Barbara nudged his side, the warmth of his jacket sinking into her skin. They kept walking, fingers still loosely intertwined, the city stretching out ahead of them.

Yeah.

Tonight had been good.

..

8341 word count

Part 1 has been edited, check it out, I think I fixed most of it. And I don't know why I included Barbara texting Vardy from her phone, I don't know what I was thking so if I fixed that. So I'm gonna need them paragraph comments, cant have people thinking I'm botting the story,

Discord: https://discord.gg/s2DVMbqSf4