DINNER WITH THE BROWN

XAVIER'S POV

 As soon as the jet touched down in Manchester, Katrina leaned into me, grinning. 

“We’re back,” she whispered.

I squeezed her hand. “Feels like we were gone for a month.” 

She laughed, soft and sleepy. “I can’t wait to crash in my bed.”

Outside, the city lights flickered through the windows. We stepped off the plane. The team followed behind us, dragging bags, already loud again.

“Press in 48 hours!” Coach shouted from behind us. “No scandals, no nonsense! Y’all hear me?”

Liam groaned. “Can I still order wings?”

“Don’t fucking eat ‘em shirtless on TikTok again!” 

The guys burst out laughing. Katrina stayed close beside me as we walked toward the waiting convoy.

“I missed this air,” she said, tilting her face to the breeze.

I smiled. “You just missed your shower and your hair products.”

“And my silk pillowcase.”

“And your closet.”

She gasped. “Yes!”

We climbed into the black SUV. Katrina curled into my side immediately and I  pressed a kiss into her hair.

The Brown mansion looked exactly how I remembered it—tall and beautiful. It didn't compare to ours but ours was more modern.. This gave old money.

The front doors swung open as we stepped out.

Mr. Brown stood there in a pressed shirt and slacks, arms wide.

“My girls!” he called.

Katrina ran up first. “Daddy!”

He hugged her like she was five again, lifting her briefly off the ground. 

Then Melissa followed behind. He wrapped her in a tight hug too, kissed the side of her head.

I waited behind them.

Mr. Brown turned, eyes bright.

“Xavier Kesh,” he said. “You look taller every time I see you.” 

“Sir,” I said, stepping forward. 

He gave me a solid side hug and laughed. “You held your own out there.” 

“Trying my best.” 

“Your best just made half the country scream. Come inside.” 

Dinner was already set. The Brown staff didn’t play. 

I sat beside Katrina.

Melissa sat across from us.

She didn’t say anything—just poured water into her glass and passed the pitcher when someone needed it.

“Alright,” Mr. Brown said, lifting a wine glass. “To victory.”

“To victory!” Katrina echoed.

Everyone clinked glasses 

Katrina leaned into me. “We should have champagne.”

“You’re already tipsy from your win,” I whispered.

“Let me live.”

We started eating. Katrina was already running her mouth, telling stories like it was her job.

“Okay, okay—so when Melissa was twelve, she got a paper cut and didn’t flinch. I cried harder than she did.”

Mr. Brown chuckled. “You cry when the kettle whistles too loud.” 

“It’s called being sensitive, Daddy.”

Melissa didn’t look up. “It’s called being dramatic.”

“Same thing,” Katrina replied brightly.

The table laughed.

I glanced at Melissa.

She was focused on cutting her fish.

Then Mr. Brown looked over. “Melissa. You alright?”

She nodded. “Yes, daddy.” 

“Not too drained from the trip?” 

“I’m fine.”

“You know I’m proud of you.”

“I know.”

He leaned forward slightly. “You still sure about the modeling thing?”

I saw her freeze for half a second.

Katrina looked up too.

“I got a message last week,” Mr. Brown continued. “That brand from Italy? They still want to meet you.”

“I said no,” Melissa said.

“They asked again.”

“I still mean no.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?" 

“I don’t want a shortcut.”

There was a pause.

Mr. Brown smiled proud. “That’s my girl.” 

I watched her as she sipped her water. Refusing help from one of the most connected men in Manchester like it was nothing. 

I couldn’t lie—it impressed me. 

A lot.

Katrina noticed me looking and nudged me under the table. 

“What?” I whispered. 

“You’re zoning out.” 

“I’m eating.” 

“You were staring.” 

“At the food.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be weird.” 

“You’re the one who just stabbed your rice with a spoon.”

“Because you distracted me.”

I laughed and kissed her cheek. 

Katrina turned back to the table. “Anyway! Daddy—remember when I had appendicitis and I thought it was gas?” 

Mr. Brown groaned. “You were screaming, ‘I’m dying’ at 3 a.m.”

Melissa snorted.

Katrina pointed. “She laughed! It’s a miracle!”

“I didn’t laugh,” Melissa said. 

“You made a noise. That counts.”

Mr. Brown shook his head fondly. “You two are something else.”

Dinner winded down. Plates cleared. Someone brought fruit in glass bowls.

Melissa stood. 

“I’ll head out now.” 

Mr. Brown stood too. “This late?”

“I’ve got stuff in the morning.” 

He didn’t question it. Just walked around the table and pulled her into a hug again. Then he leaned in, whispered something into her ear.

I saw her freeze again.

Her eyes flickered—just a little. Her mouth pressed into a tight line.

He kissed her temple.

She nodded once. 

“Be safe,” he said. 

“I will.”

Katrina called out, “You’re not staying the night?” 

“No.”

“We’ve got guest rooms.” 

“I’ve got my own place.”

She didn’t wait for more questions. Just gave a soft “Goodnight” and walked out. 

“Xavier,” Mr. Brown called after dinner, just as I stood to leave with Katrina. 

I turned. “Yes, sir?” 

He gave a relaxed smile. “Why don’t you stay the night? You’ve been on a plane all day. No need to drive back across the city this late.”

I hesitated, glancing at Katrina. 

She was already grinning. “Stay. You know my bed’s more comfortable than yours.” 

Mr. Brown laughed. “Don’t tell me that.” 

I smiled, polite. “Alright. Thank you, sir.” 

He nodded and turned away, already distracted by his phone.

Katrina grabbed my wrist immediately. “Let’s go.”

She pulled me up the grand staircase, barefoot now, her dress swishing around her legs. 

Her fingers stayed wrapped around mine, tight, like she was scared someone would take me.

The moment we entered her room, she shut the door with her foot and turned to me fast. 

“You looked hot at dinner,” she said, reaching for my shirt.

I raised an eyebrow. “You waited until now to say that?”

“I didn’t want my dad throwing a fork at you.”

I laughed, but it faded when she pushed up onto her toes and kissed me. Hard.

Her hands slipped under my shirt. “Take this off.” 

“Impatient,” I muttered, but I obeyed.

She pulled me closer, lips hungry, dragging me backwards until the backs of my knees hit her bed. Her dress fell to the floor as she climbed over me, skin warm and soft. 

“Katrina…” 

“You’re mine tonight.”

 “I always am.”

 She kissed me again. Then pulled away and grabbed my hand.

 “Come on.”

 I followed her into the ensuite bathroom, still flushed from the heat of her mouth.

She ran the tub and turned on the dim lights. The water steamed up instantly, curling around the marble walls. She stepped in, settling back, hair tied up, bare skin glowing in the golden light.

I followed.

 Warm water lapped over my chest. Her legs tangled with mine.

 She smiled and rested her head on my shoulder. “This is perfect.”

 I wrapped my arm around her.

 She fit there easily.

 Everything should’ve felt perfect. And yet—

 I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I looked down at Katrina.

 Beautiful and mine. 

She kissed my jaw gently. “Tired?”

“No.” 

“Then what’s on your mind?”

“Just the game. The press. That stuff.”

She hummed and snuggled closer. “We’ll crush it. We always do.”

I nodded. Kissed her temple. 

Still…

I love her… right?