Page 71 of Winning Match
I snort to myself, closing my eyes for a heartbeat. I didn’t tell Ale that it’s my birthday as I didn’t want him to feel obligated to do something for me.
But Bianca invited me out for a drink to celebrate and I promised to meet her before I head home to wait for Ale to return from his busy day. He’s watching tapes with his team tonight.
A motorbike zips past and my eyes pop open. I walk toward Turia, crossing the colorful flower bridge, when I can’t wait any longer.
Even though he’s busy, I want to share my news with Ale.
I sit on a bench, right in the center the bridge, surrounded by beautiful flowers—they remind me of Forget Me Nots, the same ones I would plant with Mom—and pull out my cell phone.
He answers instantly, “Hey!”
“Hi.” I smile, nearly bursting with the news.
A second ticks by. “You going to tell me how it went?”
“He said yes!”
“He said yes,” Ale repeats, genuine joy wrapping around his words. And then, “Well, of course he did. Who could say no to you?”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop smiling. My cheeks ache but the relief I feel runs deep, indicating just how dire the situation was becoming, just how much stress it was causing. “I’m so happy.”
“You should be. You worked hard for this. And you did it.”
“I did it,” I breathe out.
“I’m proud of you, Marli. And I never had any doubt.”
His words squeeze around my heart. The belief Ale has in me is the same that Grandpa, that Dad, always held to. In the five years we dated, I don’t think Gerard ever recognized how hard I worked, how deeply I cared, how invested I am in Prescott Sail.
How does Alejandro understand so much in a small amount of time?
“Thank you,” I murmur. A beep comes through on my phone and I pull it away from my ear, grinning. “That’s Grandpa beeping in.”
“I’ll let you go. I gotta get back anyway.”
“Oh! Sorry. I know you’re busy?—”
“Don’t worry, Marli. I’m thrilled you called. See you tonight.” Ale disconnects and I click over to Grandpa.
“You did it, kid,” are his first words.
“We did it, Grandpa.”
He pulls in a breath, and I can hear his relief, his pride, through the line. “And on your birthday, too. Happy twenty-seventh, Marlowe Claire.”
I roll my lips together to keep my emotions in check at Grandpa showing a slice of sentimentality. “Thank you, Grandpa.” Then, I run him through everything that transpired at my meeting with Costa. The initial terms I proposed, the inclusions he requires, the final offer we outlined.
As I speak, I stand from the bench and walk toward Corcho where I’m meeting Bianca.
By the time I arrive at the bar, the bright blue sky is fading into a deep, royal blue and burnt orange as dusk washes over the city.
I tell Grandpa I love him and tuck my phone into my purse as I push in to B’s and my favorite neighborhood jaunt.
“Surprise!” The cry rings out around me.
I stop walking, my head snapping up, as pure shock jolts through me. The bar isn’t nearly packed but it’s pretty full—and with people I know.
Andrés and Luca post up in front of the bar while other League Valencia fútbol players I’ve had the pleasure of meeting cluster at high-top tables. Bianca sits on the ledge of the bar, beaming at me, a birthday girl tiara in her hand.
