Page 95 of Winning Match
“José.”
“José,” I amend. “What are you doing here?”
He chuckles, folding his newspaper and leaning back in his chair. “I’m heading to Rhode Island. Providence.”
I narrow my eyes.
“I suppose you are, too,” he continues.
“I’m going to see Marlowe,” I admit slowly, trying to connect pieces I’m obviously missing. Why is he traveling to Rhode Island? “Did Marlowe call you?”
“We spoke.” He holds my gaze, his eyes searching.
Does he know? Shit, he must know something. He’s looking at me like my abuelo might, if he was still alive. With a little pride, a little disappointment, and more understanding than I deserve.
I sigh. “I made a mistake.”
“Did you?”
I tilt my head. “I let Marlowe go.”
“And now you want her back?”
“I’ve never not wanted her,” I admit, wondering why I’m confessing this to him, when I haven’t even had the balls to confide in Marlowe. “We…our relationship started out wrong. It was…it was an arrangement, a mutually beneficial agreement between Marlowe and me,” I confess to the shrewd, but kind, businessman.
Instead of his scowl, he smirks. His eyes lighten and he crosses one foot over his knee, turning toward me. “Do you regret it?”
“No. But I regret not admitting when the arrangement turned into something real.”
“Does she know that?”
“No.” I shake my head, averting my gaze. “That’s why I’m going to Rhode Island. To apologize. To come clean.”
“Good man,” he mutters. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t tell anyone else about this relationship starting out as a fake arrangement. You kids are too damn honest. Anyone who sees you together knows that your feelings for each other are real. Uncontrollable even. Whatever the reason for your starting out on the foot you did, it’s in the past. Take another step forward and do right by yourselves, by each other, this time. But you don’t owe anyone else the first version. Not even me.”
“Marlowe told you the truth,” I guess, since he’s not at all surprised by my confession.
“She did.” He nods. “And that’s why I’m heading to Rhode Island.”
“Why?”
“She’s under the assumption that our deal was made in bad faith.” He laughs lightly. “Business is business, Alejandro. And Marlowe negotiated one hell of a deal, one that will benefit us both, regardless of how she got her foot in the door to meet with me. She’s smart and honest—maybe too honest. But I won’t fault her for that. I hope she forgives you.”
“Yeah,” I agree, recalling Abuela’s warning. “I hope she does too.”
He chuckles again but doesn’t offer any additional encouragement as he flips open his newspaper and begins to read.
We move to our gate and board the plane thirty minutes later.
And I spend the entire flight to Rhode Island bargaining with the Virgin Mary for Marlowe’s forgiveness, for another chance, for the opportunity to show her how much I love her.
Even as my sisters blow up my phone, Coach Javi sends a pissed-off text, and the internet breeds gossip about my pulling out of the charity event.
But for the first time in my life, fútbol is not the most important thing.
