gag reel | trent alexander-arnold³

nine.

garden thoughts

"Well good morning to you, Ms Alexander-Arnold!"

"That's not my name, Peyton. Also, it's the evening over here," Wynter huffed out a small laugh. She perched her phone on a box so the two could continue the facetime while she organised her closet. Wynter tilted her head saying, "I'm starting to think you're getting my name wrong on purpose."

"But let's be real; be real with yourself for a minute, Winnie. Like put your womanism and all to the side—" the french player let out a wow, "you love it when people call you that, especially Trent."

Peyton was speaking some real truth. Ms or Mme Alexander-Arnold was something Wynter had been hearing for time, despite keeping her family name. From when she and Trent were only dating until they decided to tie the knot. And she couldn't lie to herself, she did like it on a few occasions and especially from Trent. There was some real belonging in it when he acknowledged her as his own in that way. She stopped folding clothes as her face broke out with a shy grin. "You're not wrong... but I'm not going to say you're right."

"It's never too late to switch it up," Peyton winked, causing the young woman to laugh. "Anyway, what are you even doing? There are too many people in that house of yours for it to be that quiet over there."

"I'm alone in my closet trying to unpack." She took a glance around her closet, placing her hands on her hips. Clothes scattered everywhere, suitcases untouched since forever, clothes lying around that weren't even her own. Wynter huffed out a breath, rubbing the back of her neck. The state of the place only stressed her out. "I packed too much for our trip, and now I regret it."

"You're still unpacking, Winnie?!" Peyton let out a laugh, clapping her hands together. "We came back like two weeks ago." After the season ended, Nate and Wynter chose to bring their families together for a shared holiday. It was an interesting experience for the french player. Having to cater to the wants of teenagers, little kids and a baby without Reed or Claire there to help was more than she expected. "Also where is Trent? Having you unpack for five people by yourself like that."

"He's with the kids," Wynter explained. "And don't worry, he's helping me. He's been helping me, you know, with the recovery and everything going on. I think we're doing good over here."

Wynter liked to think that she and Trent were doing good, after all of this time. In fact, they were doing great. She thought he was great. They had put a lot into their relationship and watched it flourish over time, alone and together. From the day they met and up until current days. Away from football and everyone else, the two had just about everything they wanted together. Maybe even more than that.

They went through the motions: the moving in, the engagement, the marriage, the kids (and potentially more to come), the family home—Wynter and Trent had it all and more. Family portraits in the hallways, toys scattered in every room you stepped in and the petit football kits said the players weren't lacking in anything. They would, however, still hope for more and simply wait to receive it all.

Finishing her conversation with Peyton, Wynter stepped away from her closet and wandered around the house in search of the others. And it wasn't too hard, simply following the laughter of kids and Trent's distinct voice. She believed that she heard them more than she did herself. She passed through the hallways, made her way through the kitchen, slid open the back door, and there everyone was.

Taking a seat on the patio swing, she folded her arms as she witnessed everything happen in real-time. Her sons, Julez and Tristan, were playing football together. For kids they played for the fun of it all, evident with their burst of euphoria every few minutes filling up the late summer air and unserious plays. Then there was Trent holding their daughter, Selah, as he sat comfortably on the grass watching the little game. His attendance was accompanied by cheering and encouraging his sons whenever one advanced on the other.