Page 105 of Winning Match
Grinning, I navigate us toward Wickford Harbor, to my favorite waterfront restaurant, where we sip hot coffee, eat Johnny Cakes, and savor the bliss of the moment.
We spend one more night in Providence, Rhode Island. Grandpa is delighted by my decision to launch Prescott Sail in Spain. The Sewing Circle is over the moon that Alejandro proposed.
“But we need to see the ring,” Dorothy warns Ale, who promises to rectify my bare finger the second our plane touches down in Valencia.
We spend our last night celebrating, talking, and making plans. I promise to visit every month and to help Grandpa fulfill the COO and eventually the CEO positions here.
On the morning of our departure, I leave Ale in the guest room as he makes phone calls, his Spanish too fast for me to understand.
Slipping into my father’s room, I smile when I see him on the balcony, bundled in a thick blanket, his eyes on the water.
“What are you doing, Dad?” I ask, sitting in the chair beside him.
“Just watching the sailboats.”
I nod, slipping my hand into his.
We sit together, watching the sailboats, lost in our own thoughts.
Sitting with Dad, I acknowledge the past that has now faded into bittersweet memories. I appreciate the present, this moment and all it entails. And for the first time in a long time, I envision a bright and fulfilling future.
We sit in silence until Ale gently tells me it’s time to leave.
I hug my father tight and press kisses to his cheeks, but I know when he looks at me, he’s a little bewildered.
“I’ll see you soon,” I promise.
He nods, his eyes clearing for a heartbeat. “I know.”
Deep down, I believe he does.
Bianca throws us a sweet and laid-back engagement party a week later. The team assembles at Corcho and when I walk in, a three-carat oval engagement ring sparkles from my finger.
“Oh my God!” Bianca yells, grasping my hand.
“You sound like Gladys,” I laugh.
“Dorothy thinks it’s gaudy and Judith said it could be bigger,” Ale adds.
Bianca cracks up. “Well, I think it’s beautiful. As are you.” My friend hugs me tightly. “You’re glowing.”
“Are you—” Luca starts.
“Don’t ask,” Ale shuts him up. He wraps an arm around my waist and tells our friends, “We’re getting married next summer on Narragansett Bay, in Rhode Island, and you’re all invited.” He looks at me and his eyes spark. “I can’t wait.”
I push up on my toes to kiss his mouth. “Me too.”
“Madre Mía, do we have to endure this all season?” Carlos jokes.
“Seems so,” Coach Javi says, stepping forward to offer his congratulations.
The party kicks off with Andrés’s rendition of “Chapel of Love” by The Dixie Cups.
While Ale’s teammates and our friends sing and dance and drink, Ale grasps my hand, his thumb brushing over my engagement ring, and wraps an arm around my waist. We sway together and I can’t stop the smile that cuts my face.
“This reminds me of that first night, in the club,” I recall.
“When I attempted to impress you with bachata?”
