Page 46 of Her Goal
I hold up my hands, innocent. “Honest to goodness, no. I’ve had a few concussions over the years and thought I’d briefly lost consciousness or entered an alternate dimension where you tolerated me.”
“Not funny.” Leah loosens her hand from under the infant and pokes me in the chest. “What do you know about this?”
I level with her. “Not a thing. If anyone is going to be asking questions, it should be me.” No sooner do I speak than a chill works through me as I realize something critical. DuringMr. and Mrs. Smith’s speech, when attention turned to Leah and me, there were numerous cell phones lifted, lights glowing, recording the events in real-time … which means they’ll likely make their way to the internet. What will this mean for my career? If I deny it, people will think I’m a jerk and Chuck will break my legs, rendering me useless as a goalie. If I accept it, Leah will assassinate me.
My cheeks puff on an exhale.
Her shoulders lift and lower as she breathes out. “This is cringy. I am so sorry. It’s my family. They have zero boundaries. And Abuela claims you’re the ‘Chosen One.’ What does that even mean?” she rambles on, fretting.
And just like that, the storm blows past. A switch flipped and she let down her guard. Interestingly, when I watched her interacting with family and friends, she was warm and, dare I say, friendly. Not all flames and arrows like when talking to me. By some act of mercy, I’m now getting her softer side.
She says, “You’re smiling as if amused. There’s nothing funny about this.”
“Trying to figure you out, Leah Maria Smith. I think you’remás dulcethan you let on.”
She turns abruptly, disturbing the baby whose little face smooshes up as if ready to explode with tears. I slide my finger into her tiny hand and she squeezes hard and then instantly dozes off again.
Leah looks from the baby to me, perplexed. “I was ready for her to scream bloody murder. Is that some kind of baby whisperer move?”
Instinct, actually, but I don’t say that. However, now we’re both stuck here because the little one’s grip is strong and I don’t want anyone to scream for any reason. Especially now that we have a moment alone to talk.
“So …?” I say.
“So …” she repeats.
“Would you call this a pickle?” I ask.
“A real big deal.”
“Did you say dill?” I chuckle.
“No.”
“I think you did.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
I can’t help but think of Abuela commenting that the relationship we’re celebrating between Edward and Dulcemaria started with irritation at first sight. The older woman approaches, leaning on her cane.
“Practicing?” she asks, looking from her granddaughter to the baby to me.
“Oh, uh, no. Abuela, will you please find my mother? We need to chat.”
“She’s dancing with Eduardo.”
“Mrs. Torres, would you like to sit down?” I stand up and gesture to my seat.
“I’m fine admiring the view.”
I follow her gaze to Jack, who’s doing what very well may be a paso doble with Ella.
She says, “Ah, to be young again. Though I don’t know what they put in the water here in Cobbiton. Everyone is larger than life. That young man could pick me up, toss me over his shoulder, and?—”
“Abuela!” Leah whisper shouts.
“I know, I know. He’s happily married, but in my day?—”
Leah abruptly gets up and gestures for her grandmother to sit down and take the baby.
