Page 102 of Winning Match
Even Callie, who doesn’t take bullshit, messaged that it will all blow over and it isn’t the end of the world. Especially when she learned of Marlowe’s father’s fall and condition.
Papá is quiet for a moment, his breathing even, and then he asks, “Well? What’s the real news? Your abuela’s been calling every five minutes and your mother hasn’t gone to bed yet.”
I chuckle. “We talked. You and Abuela were right. I should have been honest with Marlowe about my feelings. But she’s giving me another chance. We have to work out the logistics, but Marlowe and I are good. We’re better than good.”
I can hear Papá’s smile through the line. “Bueno, Alejandro. I’m happy to hear it. You love her. Anyone who knows you can see that you’ve grown. Finally, a man, who goes after what he wants, who tries to be worthy of something greater. Sometimes that’s fútbol, but it’s better when it’s the right woman. The right partner. Look at your mother and me,” he adds. “I wouldn’t have achieved half of my success without her by my side.”
“Gracias, Papá.”
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you kids,” Papá continues. “Your mother and Abuela pointed it out for years, but I truly realized it when your sister married Avery. The way she lit up around him, the woman she grew into, the confidence she exuded, a lot of it was because she felt safe, secure, in her relationship with him. And in the past two months, I’ve watched you become a bigger, better man because of Marlowe. Leadership manifests in different ways and this weekend, you took the lead and showed up for a woman who needed you even more than the charity event. I’m proud of you, hijo.” Son.
I work a swallow around the lump in the center of my throat, dropping my head. “Gracias,” I repeat.
“Call your mother tomorrow,” he replies, resuming his usual, clipped tone. “And be back here before your next game. Javi is counting on it.”
“I will.”
“Buenas noches, Alejandro.”
“Buenas noches, Papá.” I hang up the call and recline on the bed, propping one arm under my head as I stare at the ceiling.
Papá is proud of me.
It’s the acknowledgement I’ve chased for a long time, for years. And it took this—doing right by the woman I love—for him to recognize that I’m a grown-ass man worthy of respect. Worthy of leadership.
I snort, shaking my head.
“What are you laughing at?” Marlowe asks as she slips into the room.
Yawning, I hold out an arm and she comes to my side, lying next to me and nestling close, her head on my shoulder.
“My papá is proud of me.”
She kisses the side of my neck. “Well, there’s a lot to be proud of.”
I smirk, inclining my head until my chin rests on the top of her hair. “Are you okay, Marlowe?”
“Yes. My grandpa is proud of me, too.”
I chuckle. “I never doubted that, mi amor.” She yawns sleepily and I hold her closer. “Sleep, Marli.”
“We should talk.”
“Tomorrow,” I whisper.
“Tomorrow,” she agrees, her eyes flashing as she dips her fingertips under the waistband of my pants. “Tonight, we have other plans.”
I snort as Marlowe shifts over me but when she swings a leg over my hips to straddle me and lowers her mouth to mine, my humor turns into heat.
I slip a hand into her hair and lift my face to kiss her back. “We have to be quiet.”
“I know,” she whispers, slipping her hand into my boxer briefs and fisting my length. “Very quiet,” she warns, her eyes holding mine as she begins to drag her fist over my cock.
I harden instantly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
I lean closer to kiss her, my hands sliding up her abdomen until I cup her breasts.
