Page 28 of Winning Match
Madre mía.
My sisters start in on the sibling thread as a knock sounds on the door. I gratefully accept the room service, setting out the food as I scan my sisters’ commentary.
Carla
Is this a joke? Are you dating someone?
I snort. If Carla thinks I’m serious about a woman from a bunch of social media posts…then she must have gleaned the same connection between Marlowe and me in those photos that I did. Mierda, this is escalating.
Valentina
Is she American? She looks American! We’re bringing you over to our side.
Carla
I’m currently dating a German, thank you very much.
Valentina
For now.
Carla
What’s that supposed to mean?
Valentina
Raia told me he doesn’t like pretzels.
Carla
That’s not a deal-breaker.
Valentina
It should be.
“Ale?” Marlowe asks, standing in front of me.
I toss down my phone. I can’t believe I was distracted by my sisters’ nonsensical conversation that I didn’t hear her leave the bedroom and enter the sitting room.
“You ordered room service,” she says slowly.
“Coffee?” I offer, both desperate to spill my guts and drag this moment out for as long as possible.
With every second that ticks by, my anxiety heightens. She’s going to learn my real identity. Won’t she question why I didn’t tell her who I am last night? Will she hate me for omitting the truth, right after her ex-boyfriend blindsided her?
She nods and I pour her a mug of coffee.
“Milk or sugar?” I ask, but she accepts the mug from me, drinking it black.
She studies me curiously and I can see the questions turning over in her mind.
I don’t blame her. I’ve given nothing away. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes study me before traveling around the suite. When she looks back again, I note the flair of doubt, the sliver of distrust, in her gaze and it scrapes me raw. “So, talk.” A bite underlines her tone.
