Page 25 of Winning Match
“Would that be okay?” I shuffle from one foot to the next.
Ale doesn’t smile. He doesn’t crack a joke. “Of course. I’d wait in the lobby but…” he sighs, his eyes closing briefly. When he opens them, there’s an apology in his irises that makes me uneasy. “Is it okay if I hang here?” He points to the couch.
Who are you? Why are we on social feeds? Why can’t you wait in the lobby?
The thoughts loop in my mind but I’m out of my league.
So inexperienced. So unsure of myself that I could scream.
Already out of sorts from Grandpa’s suggestion that I remain in Spain; Ale’s appearance heightens my apprehension.
I clear my throat and nod. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” I gesture toward the bathroom door. “But…is everything okay?”
The air between us is heavy with awkwardness. It’s nothing like last night when everything felt natural and organic. Now, now my head is a mess, and I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a precipice.
Who is Ale? Why is he so worried? And what does it have to do with me?
“Yes,” Ale says unconvincingly. “It will be.” But his expression—pinched lips, worried eyes—belie his words. “Take your time, Marli. I’ll be here.”
“Okay,” I murmur, even though something is clearly wrong.
But I need a minute to myself. To brush my teeth. To dress. To…feel more prepared for whatever he’s about to share with me.
I move toward the bathroom, lock the door behind me, and, as my anxiety mounts, Grandpa’s messages mixing with Ale’s words, I throw myself into the shower to pull myself together.
8
Ale
I breathe easier the second I hear the shower running.
Marlowe in that satin pajama set is enough to short-circuit my brain. But those tiny straps coupled with the worry, the uncertainty, in her gaze made my chest feel funny. Glazed in ice yet burning.
I don’t understand the feelings her presence alone pulls from me. And right now, I don’t want to dissect them. Instead, I want us to talk.
They’re saying she’s my girlfriend.
I don’t think Marlowe saw the social platforms yet. She seemed too calm, too confused, to have read the lies being circulated on social media. But she will. And when she does…
By the number of times my phone has buzzed, I know the story is everywhere and growing legs with each passing second.
I have to put an end to it now. Book her a flight home, issue a press release, and move on.
I groan as my phone rings for the umpteenth time. I silence it and place a quick call to room service instead, requesting a breakfast spread.
I’ve barely hung up when another call comes through.
Dios mío. Pulling it out, I swear as my agent’s name appears on the screen.
“Callie,” I answer.
“García,” she replies. Her voice is clipped, but not angry. Callie James is one of the most resourceful, bad ass, yet compassionate women I’ve ever met. She’s an incredible agent and, since signing with her, the endorsement deals she’s secured for me in America have been life-changing.
“Buenas,” I offer the casual greeting and sink back into the sofa.
“You doing okay?”
“Of course.”
