Page 100 of Winning Match
And I know I’m going to be okay. That I can trust myself. That I am truly seen and understood and loved beyond measure.
30
Ale
“Try the chicken pot pie,” Dorothy demands, indicating the dish in the center of the table.
“Looks like you could eat more green beans,” Judith tacks on, adding a heaping portion of green beans to my plate.
“And save room for dessert,” Gladys says, pointing at me.
I dip my head and murmur my thanks.
Seated at the dining table with the Sewing Circle, Marlowe, her grandpa Lou, and José Costa is something I never anticipated when I raced to the airport, desperate to get on the first flight to the East Coast of America, less than twenty-four hours ago.
But here we are.
I had a short but wonderful conversation with Marlowe’s father. Understanding, sadness, joy, and gratitude shone bright in his eyes for the window of lucidity he was gifted. We spoke about Marlowe the entire time and I know mi niña was choked up listening to us. Once Mr. Prescott slipped away, he fell asleep, and Dorothy demanded we come downstairs for dinner.
Marlowe’s shock at seeing José Costa at the dinner table went through her like a jolt, and I grasped her, right under the elbow, to keep her from swaying on her feet.
Beside me, Marlowe takes a sip of her wine, her eyes darting between her grandpa and José over the rim.
“So, you flew here today?” Marlowe asks José.
“Last night,” he says, gesturing toward me with the tines of his fork. “I was on the same flight as Alejandro.”
I place a hand on her thigh, indicating that all is well.
She turns panicked eyes on me in response.
I smirk, leaning closer and lowering my voice. “I confessed everything to him.”
Marlowe gasps. “So did I.”
“I know.”
“So, he knows…everything?”
“Yes. And I don’t think he’s going to tell anyone.”
Marlowe pulls away, that little line I love creasing in between her brows. “But—why?”
“Because he knows I love you. Desperately. And that this, us, is for real.” I lean even closer. “And business is business.”
She chuckles lightly and drops her chin in agreement.
“Hey!” Judith snaps her fingers, and Marlowe and I break apart, turning our attention toward her. “No secrets at the dinner table.”
Gladys leans forward. “Unless you want to share?”
José laughs. Lou huffs as he eyes the Sewing Circle.
The ladies beam, their grins toothy, their eyes bright.
I cough my laughter into my fist.
Lou clears his throat. “José and I met to discuss the future of Prescott Sail. He reached out to me a few days ago and explained that business was bringing him to the States.”
