Always on My Mind (Stanmore FC Soulmates #2)

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tessa scratched off another name with a sigh, red ink sinking into the paper in front of her.

“It’s no use, Billie,” she said, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. “I’m never gonna find a flatmate at this rate.”

“It can’t be that bad,” her former flatmate but reigning best friend replied. “This is London. Thousands of people move here every day. Surely someone is suitable to live with.”

“I’m telling you, there’s no one.”

“What about that Scottish bloke?”

“He’s a bagpiper, Bills. How’s anyone supposed to live with a professional bagpiper?”

“Okay, fair enough. Have you got any other interviews lined up?”

“Ten.”

“See, there are options!”

Tessa glanced over the list of so-called options once more. She had one more interview left for the day, and the rest would have to come throughout the week. She was considering giving up on the whole thing and moving to a one-bedroom. But even that would be difficult to maintain in London on a single income. A writer’s income at that.

She never noticed how much Billie was covering when they lived together. She made about twice Tessa’s salary working for a football club, and now that she was gone, Tessa realized how steep the difference was. She’d canceled half her streaming subscriptions, created a meal plan with only the cheapest ingredients, and sold vintage items from her collection several times a week on Etsy. And she was still struggling.

“I dunno. . . ” she trailed off. “Are you and Ethan looking for someone to keep house?”

Billie chuckled. “Believe me, Tess. You don’t want to be living at ours.”

“Shagging everywhere, are you?”

“Literally in every room.”

Tessa gagged, but she knew Billie understood the sarcasm behind it. Tessa was thrilled that Billie had found her soulmate. And she was honored to have been part of them discovering they were soulmates at all. Tessa found the letters and photographs which revealed that Billie, in a past life, was a Land Girl during World War II, working on a farm outside Aldbourne. And Ethan, in that same timeline, was a US paratrooper stationed in the small town before the D-Day invasion of Normandy. He was eventually killed in the Battle of the Bulge, but almost eighty years later, through Billie and Ethan, they found each other again. Now they were married and had started their life together.

It was their story that drove Tessa to see the psychic—or, past life regressionist—in the first place. Unfortunately, it was what she feared all along. That Jamie was the person her soul was tied to. But Jamie was no longer an option. She wondered if she could find the happiness Billie and Ethan had, or was she condemned to a life alone by refusing Jamie? Was everyone seeking out their soulmates from times gone by? Or did some people choose a partner regardless of anything from the past?

“I’ve got noise canceling headphones, y’know,” Tessa said.

“Tess.”

“Alright, alright, I understand. Newlywed bliss and all that.”

Billie hesitated for a long moment. “You know. . . if you need a loan, Ethan and I can—”

“No,” Tessa cut her off. “I know he’s a footballer and money’s no object for you, but I couldn’t accept it.”

“There’s no shame in asking for help, Tess.”

“Aye, I know. And seeing as I’m not asking, there’s especially no shame in it.”

“Tessa.”

“If that day ever comes, Billie, you’ll be the first to know. But I grew up in Derry. I know how to get by.” She paused for a beat, then whimpered. “Fuck, Billie, what if I have to move back to Derry?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Tessa took a deep breath. “Good. Because you know what’s in Derry, don’t you?”

“No, what?”

“Fucking nothing, that’s what! Just a bunch of other poor, Catholic girls with nothing to do all day and no prospects and—”

“Tessa, calm down! I won’t let that happen, I swear.”

She sniffled. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Bills.”

“I know. And I owe you my marriage, so I’m here for anything you need, yeah?”

“Understood.”

A male voice sounded from Billie’s end, with a Southern drawl that Tessa would have recognized from anywhere. Ethan must have gotten back from training. She knew that was the case when Billie let out a girlish laugh that only Ethan was capable of drawing from her.

“Sorry?” Billie suddenly asked.

“I haven’t said anything,” Tessa answered.

“I—” Billie stifled another giggle and scolded Ethan. “Sorry, was there anything else?”

“The last interview might be better,” Tessa said. “Name’s Niamh, so there’s a pretty good chance she’s Irish.”

Billie said some other muffled thing to Ethan. “Oh, really?”

“Could be from the Republic, though.”

“Would that be a bad thing? I mean—Ethan!”

Tessa huffed. “Sweet, suffering Jesus, go ride your husband already!”

“You sure?”

“Aye, call me back after you’ve been properly plowed.”

“Later, Tess.”

The line went dead. Tessa rolled her eyes and shook her head, muttering to herself that she’d never understood the term “dickmatized” until Billie met Ethan. She poured herself a generous glass of cabernet and headed out to the sitting room. That was when she heard the knock on the door.

Tessa opened it to reveal a young woman in a tracksuit, her bleach blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail that swished around her head as she turned it. Her gray eyes crinkled with her wide, toothy smile, and she greeted Tessa with a warm, definitely Irish, “Hello!”

Tessa couldn’t help but smile back. “Hi, there. You must be Niamh.”

“You must be Tessa.”

“Aye, come inside.” She opened the door to allow Niamh across the threshold. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for meeting me,” Niamh replied. “Finding a place in London’s not been easy.”

“It never is. Can I get you anything before we start? Glass of wine? Tea?”

“What is it you’ve got there?” Niamh asked, nodding toward the glass in Tessa’s hand.

“Cabernet.”

“My kind of girl. I’ll have one as well, thanks.”

Tessa smirked. This was already off to a much better start than the interviews before. Especially the bagpiper. She fetched another glass from the cabinet and poured Niamh as generous a serving as she’d given herself. Niamh thanked her and took a sip.

“So, Niamh, obviously you’re Irish,” Tessa began, though she had already clocked the accent from the Republic. “What brings you to London?”

“A job,” Niamh told her. “I’ve just signed to play for Stanmore FC women’s team, now they’re promoted and all.”

Tessa blinked. “You’re a footballer?”

“Yes. I was playing for Everton women, but they stacked their midfield in the January window, so I had to move on.”

Tessa swallowed against the tightness in her throat. So much for this going better. After Jamie, she swore she was done keeping up with women’s football. How could she when the woman who broke her heart was everywhere? Jamie was always a discussion for pundits because of her father, and she was so talented, there was no avoiding hearing her name on broadcasts. If Tessa let a footballer move in, it would only put her one foot back into Jamie’s world.

“Are you alright?” Niamh asked, a shadow of concern coming over her features.

“Oh, aye,” Tessa said, and she cleared her throat. “Let’s go on, shall we?”

She asked the stuff she had to know—about salary, lifestyle, cleanliness, all the things that might make them compatible flatmates. Niamh answered everything kindly and with things Tessa liked to hear. She made more than enough needed to split the basic bills in half. She was social, but not a partier since she had training every day and couldn’t afford to be hungover. She was neat, too, and even offered up a chore chart idea that Tessa thought was brilliant. If only she weren’t a footballer. Like one of those rubber balls tied to a paddle, Tessa was flying one moment, and smacked with that harsh reminder the next.

“Where about in Ireland are you from?”

“I grew up near Dublin, where my Mam’s from,” she said. “Dad’s from Derry, though.”

Tessa froze with her glass halfway to her mouth. “What’s your surname again?”

“O’Hartigan,” Niamh said.

“Any relation to Dierdre O’Hartigan?”

“She live over on Oakfield Road?”

“That’s the one!”

“She’s my auntie!”

“She was my year three teacher!”

“No way!”

“Yes, way!”

“This is the most Irish conversation I’ve had in months!”

“Me too!” Tessa set down her wine and yanked Niamh into a hug. All doubts about living with a footballer washed away. Niamh was not just a footballer, she was Dierdre O’Hartigan’s niece. She was a connection to home. And as much as Tessa didn’t want to live there again, she missed the people. “Welcome to the flat!”

“Really?” Niamh cried, pulling back to meet Tessa’s eyes. “You mean it?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Tessa assured her.

Niamh was worth it. Besides, it wasn’t as if Jamie was coming to Stanmore. She was too good for a newly promoted club, her father would never allow it. As Tessa brought the lease, she told herself not to worry. Jamie was in the past. For good.