You are my mums (a Lucy Bronze fanfic) - Book 2

Chapter 3 - Sunset

Lucy Bronze's POV:

"okay you can look now", Rosie instructed me. I turned around to see her wearing the cutom made Barcelona shirt that had just arrived. Since Keira was also her mum, it seemed unfair for her to have to pick one of our names to put on the shirt - so I asked Leah for some help. I wanted to copy Rosie's England Euro's final shirt with Bronze-Walsh on the back, but with a Barcelona shirt instead. Leah gave me the phone number of the person who made it and luckily it came just in time for the game this afternoon.

We were playing Real Madrid at a 1pm kick-off and it would be the first time Rosie was going to be watching me and Keira play in real life. Between physio appointments, massages and settling in, Rosie hadn't found time to watch a game in-person yet. Luckily there hadn't been an away game since we arrived - I've decided that we'll cross that bridge when we come to it and not worry about it until then.

However, next month there is a very important Champion's League group stage game. Against Bayern Munich. Our best friend, Georgia Stanway, plays for them and it would be the first time seeing her since the summer. I couldn't wait for us all to be reunited again. G's friendship meant a lot to Rosie and after she left to go to Germany, I could tell she was absolutely devastated. But she knew she had to let Georgia do whatever she had to do to become a better player. It would be an overdue catch-up and I couldn't wait. We had tried to stay in contact with most people who lived in different countries, but it was hard. The time zones and our individual schedules made the time for facetiming people very limited. When we were in England, I would speak to Georgia every single day without a doubt. It feels strange not talking to her as much, but we've both gone off on our own individual journeys and I can guarantee we will meet again.

I raised an eyebrow at Rosie and asked, "does it fit okay? I just sort of guessed on the sizing". She seemed shocked, "I've lived with you for almost a year and you don't know what size I am?". I tried to explain, "well...Keira usually deals with all of that sort of stuff". She rolled her eyes playfully, "it fits perfect. Thanks, I love it". Instructing her to turn around, I cast my eyes over the Bronze-Walsh printed in white letters on the back.

After examining the shirt a little longer to ensure that everything was fine, Rosie mumbled, "you're such a mum". I laughed lightly, "that makes me feel old". She smirked, "that's because you are". She left her bedroom to go to her connecting en-suite bathroom as I shouted after her, "I'm only 31!". My protest was shortly responded with a call from Rosie, "exactly. Old". I rolled my eyes. I'm not old? Am I? Surely not...I think she's forgetting that there are children who have parents a lot older than me.

One day after a game in Manchester, we were talking with the fans. There was one girl and a man who I presumed was her grandad. I asked the little girl if she enjoyed coming to games with her grandad, who cut me off with, "I'm her dad", in a harsh accent. It's safe to say I said goodbye as quickly as I could and moved away from them immediately - feeling very embarrassed. I was thankful that nothing that embarrassing had happened to me in Barcelona yet.

I laid down on Rosie's bed, aimlessly scrolling through my phone while she tidied her room. It's definitely the first time she's cleaned it since we've moved here because it is an absolute mess. Despite the mess, I'm not the type of parent to force her to clean it. After all, it's her room and she can have it as messy as she likes as long as it doesn't effect me. Sometimes it's a bit annoying when I'm constantly tripping over things, but she's a teenager - what else can I expect?

After a little bit of time had passed, I felt Rosie's gaze attach to me. Looking up from my phone, I raised an eyebrow - silently questioning her. She sat down near me and cautiously asked, "Matías has a game tonight and he's invited me, can I go?". Lately she's been talking a lot about him. They had become good friends but neither me or Keira had met him yet. From the stuff Rosie tells us, he seems nice enough. I replied, "sure, what time?". She responded with a grin, "kick off's at 7 so there'll be plenty of time between the end of your game and the start of his". I told her, "I'll drop you off and pick you u-" She cut me off, "no it's fine, I'll just walk or take the bus". Frowning, I told her firmly, "Rosie, I'm driving you". She sighed in defeat.