22. Valentina
Chapter 22
Valentina
“Oh, Vale, that dress looks gorgeous on you!” Mamá announces, clapping her hands together as soon as I step out of the fitting room.
While Mamá and Carla already purchased gowns with matching shoes, purses, and jewelry for tomorrow night’s gala, I have nothing. I didn’t pack eveningwear when I moved to Knoxville. I packed warm, cozy clothing for field research and practical business attire for my days spent on campus.
I never enjoyed shopping the way my mother and sister do. But walking down the Magnificent Mile, linked arm-in-arm, and perusing racks of clothes before piling into dressing room lounges with them feels different. It’s fun and carefree. Natural and effortless. For the first time, perhaps in my entire adult life, I feel like I truly belong with Mamá and Carla. While my sister and I have always been close, Carla and Mamá are two peas in a pod. They share similar passions— fútbol and fashion. And sometimes, when I’m with them, it highlights how apart I am.
But not today.
“If Avery could see you in that gown, he would die!” my sister exclaims, fanning herself.
“I love the color,” Mamá says, making no reference to Avery.
I turn to check out the back of the gown in the mirror. I’m wearing a fire-engine red gown with long, bell-shaped sleeves, and an open back. It has a high neck but hugs my curves all the way down, skimming the tops of my toes.
“I like it,” I agree.
“I love it!” Carla says.
“We’ll take it!” Mamá announces to the salesclerk.
As I change back into my clothes, Mamá takes the gown from my hand and walks toward the checkout.
“Oh! Mami, I can buy my own dress,” I say, reaching for the gown.
She holds it out of my reach. “Please, Vale, let me get this for you. You look stunning in it. So confident and happy. And there will be so many wonderful gentlemen at the gala.”
“Mamá,” I hiss. “I’m married.”
“Oh, I know.” She waves a hand dismissively, as if flicking away the idea of my marriage.
I take the dress out of her hands. “Please, let me,” I say, my voice hard.
“Vale, let her have this,” Carla murmurs.
Relenting, I roll my eyes and allow my mother to take the dress back and step to the cashier.
“ Gracias , Mami,” I murmur.
Mamá nods.
After the purchase of the gown, the three of us head uptown for lunch. We order martinis and Mamá sighs.
“I wasn’t trying to insult you, Valentina,” she says.
I tilt my head, studying her. “He’s my husband.”
“Do you love him?” Mamá asks.
I hesitate for the slightest second and note the flicker, the knowing , that expands in Mamá’s eyes. “Yes,” I say resolutely. I didn’t hesitate because I don’t know my own mind; I hesitated because Avery’s and my marriage is hardly conventional.
But so what? It’s still ours.
Then why can’t I tell my parents? Why am I still seeking their approval?
“I hope so,” Mamá replies. “Because marriage is hard, Valentina. And being married to a professional athlete can be a very lonely life.”
Carla’s eyes widen at that but instead of cutting in, my sister takes a gulp of her martini.
Mamá changes the subject and steers our conversation to safter topics—skiing in the Swiss Alps, a new theatrical performance Mamá wants to see in London, and Carla’s involvement with tomorrow night’s gala.
I participate in the conversation when it’s required but for the most part, I’m quiet. Lost in my thoughts.
Haven’t I experienced, firsthand, how hard and lonely marriage to an athlete can be? But Avery and I moved past that. We’re good now—thriving.
Still, Mamá’s words echo in my mind.
By the time we arrive in front of my hotel room door, I’m exhausted. Mentally drained.
“Thank you for the dress,” I say, accepting it from Mamá’s outstretched hand.
“Wear it in good health,” she says, smiling. She kisses Carla’s and my cheeks. “See you girls for dinner.”
“I have a meeting with some of my teammates about the gala. Do you need anything, Vale?” Carla asks.
“No, I’m good.” I wave her away. “I’ll see you for dinner.”
I watch as my mother and sister walk down the hallway. Then, I push into my hotel room, hang up my new gown, shed my clothing, and wrap myself in a comfy robe.
I collapse in an armchair and stare out the window, noting the bustling city street below.
My phone rings and I smile when I see Abuela’s face appear.
“ Hola , Abuelita,” I answer.
She smiles at me, the lines in her face folding into well-loved wrinkles. “ Que tal, mi tesoro ?”
I sigh and Abuela frowns.
“What’s wrong?” she asks gently in Spanish.
Tears well in my eyes and I shake my head.
“You are in Chicago, with your family?” she asks.
I nod as more tears gather.
“And your Avery is playing football in Boston,” she continues.
I nod again.
“What is it, Valentina?” Abuela presses, even though I think she knows the answer.
As the tears spill over, the entire story tumbles out. I tell her all about Mamá, Papá, Ale, and Carla showing up on Christmas morning. About the terrible, awkward, uncomfortableness of their visit. About coming to Chicago and Mamá’s comment. “No one accepts him. They don’t accept us,” I explain, pointing to my chest.
“They don’t know him,” Abuela says.
“They don’t want to know him,” I clarify.
“ Ay , yes. That’s the heart of it,” she agrees.
“What do I do?” I ask, miserable.
Abuela sighs. “You do what is right in your heart, Valentina. If Avery is it for you, if he is the man that you want to commit your life, your love, to being with, then you fight for him and for your marriage.”
I’m quiet as I process her words. I look at her, waiting.
She sighs again, more heavily this time. “And if he is not, then deep down, you know that too. But only you can make that choice.”
I nod, knowing she’s right. We talk for a few more minutes before I say good-bye.
Snuggling into the bed, I rest my head on the pillow. My mind spins. Everything over the past few months has happened at warp speed. Since the moment I met Avery, it has been highs and lows. Soaring and sinking.
Is our fake marriage built to last? Or am I trying to convince myself that our love is real because we’re already married?
If I was certain of my place at Avery’s side, would a few sharp words from Mamá and Papá have such an impact? Would their opinions of Avery, of our marriage, cause me to question things so easily?
A headache forms as I try to get a handle on my thoughts. On my feelings.
Needing a connection to Avery, I text him.
Valentina
Missing you.
I wait for ten minutes but he doesn’t reply. Sighing, I drop my phone on the bed, close my eyes, and nap until dinner.
That night, I meet my family at the hotel bar for drinks. Then, Mamá, Papá, Alejandro, Carla, and I make our way to a trendy restaurant where we talk and share and spend time together for hours. There’s an ease, an effortlessness, that didn’t exist when we were at Avery’s and my condo in Knoxville. For the first time in years, I feel caught up in the mix. I feel like a true Garcia.
It leaves me wondering—will my husband ever fit in with my family? Or will he take my place and be the only member constantly apart?
“Avery’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in this gown, girl,” Raia says, gesturing for me to pose.
I turn my frame slightly, bending one knee, and smile over my shoulder.
Carla grins. “You’re hot, Valentina Maria Lopez Garcia!”
“Y’all have too many names,” Raia grumbles, tapping on her phone. “Picture sent!”
Not even thirty seconds passes before a text comes through my phone.
Avery
You look sexy as fuck, my wife. I miss you.
Send me more photos.
Smiling, I gesture for Carla and Raia to come closer for a group selfie. I snap the photo and send it to Avery.
Valentina
(Image)
Avery
Are you having fun?
I glance around the beautifully decorated venue. Top-tier athletes, television personalities, marketing executives, team owners, and advocacy groups from Chicago mill about. It’s going to be a hugely successful event; I can feel it.
Excitement skirts through me. While a part of me wishes Avery was here, another part enjoys being swept up in the moment. I’m loving having this time with my family and clicking with them. The night holds a sense of promise, of anticipation, that I haven’t felt in a long time.
Last night, I was toasting cocktails with my brother and sister, making resolutions and outlining goals for the year ahead. I felt, down to my bones, that this next year is going to be magical. Full of growth, brimming with new possibilities, and seeped in so much love.
Today, I revel in that certainty.
Valentina
Yes. The venue is gorgeous. I’m having the best time with Ale and Carla.
Avery
Good. I’m happy for you.
Valentina
Thanks. Good luck at your game. See you soon.
I note the three dots dancing across the bottom of my phone’s screen as Avery types out a reply. They pause, begin again, stop. And then, a video call from Avery comes through.
Sighing, I lift one finger to Carla to let her know I need a minute. Then, I move to the side of the venue to take the call. The second I slide my thumb across the bar on the screen, it drops.
Avery
My service is choppy. We’re about to head into the locker room.
Valentina
No worries. Good luck today!
Avery
You sure everything is okay?
Valentina
Yeah. Why?
Avery
I don’t know. Just checking.
I frown and glance around the space. I’m at a charity gala with my family, what could possibly be wrong?
Valentina
All good. See you at home.
Avery
I love you, sweetheart.
Valentina
Love you, too.
“Hey!” Carla comes up to me. “Ready to go in?”
I drop my phone in my purse and smile at her. “Absolutely. Let’s go have some fun.”
My sister tugs my arm and pulls me into the gala.
Sandwiched between Carla and Raia, I smile and commit to having fun tonight. We drink wine, dance in the center of the dance floor, and cheer loudly as the donations raised by the event are announced. I clap for the speakers, share a dance with my father, and take a shot of tequila with my brother. Mamá and I take goofy photos in a photobooth with props, laughing hysterically as the rest of our family joins.
“Christmas photos for next year!” Carla exclaims.
“We don’t do those.” Mamá shakes her head.
“Thank God for that,” Ale jokes.
As the night draws to a close, Mamá and Papá head back to the hotel, kissing us kids on the foreheads and telling us to stay together and get home safely.
“It’s like they still don’t realize we’re adults,” Carla says, gesturing toward the bar.
“And I’m nearly thirty,” Ale reminds us.
At that, Carla and I stop and stare at him.
“Old man,” Carla murmurs, shaking her head.
“Here.” I give him my arm to insinuate he needs my assistance walking to the bar.
He smacks it away, chuckling, before wrapping an arm around my waist. “You both got jokes.” He shakes his head. Then, he glances down at me, his green eyes flashing. “I’m used to Carla’s shit, but I could always count on you to do right by me, Vale.”
I grin at him, knowing he’s teasing.
Alejandro tugs me closer and kisses my temple. “Can’t believe you’re a married woman now.”
“Do you like Avery?” I ask, knowing it shouldn’t matter and yet, it does. I want his approval.
Ale looks at me and shrugs. “I don’t know him that well.”
“You could try to get to know him,” I reply.
Ale nods. Then, he looks directly at me. “Your marriage to him came out of nowhere. It’s just hard to accept that this is what you truly want when you’ve never had a serious boyfriend. You’ve never even talked about marriage.”
I work a swallow, understanding where my brother is coming from. For years, I was too focused on my career to consider marriage. Plus, there were no prospects—I didn’t date.
“I just want you to be happy, Valentina. And, while I’m sure you’re happy when you’re with Avery, you’re also not cut up at being away from him this weekend.”
“It’s one weekend,” I point out.
“Yeah,” Ale agrees, nodding. “I’m not judging you, Vale. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” He shrugs. “But, what the hell do I know? I don’t do serious relationships either.” He glances at Carla. “Us Garcia kids have always had that in common,” he jokes, stepping to the bar and flagging down the bartender.
His words spin in my mind.
While I never had a serious romantic relationship because I felt too broken after Dane, too scared to let myself get hurt again, I have no idea what Alejandro’s and Carla’s excuses are. Probably fútbol . The determination, commitment, and single-minded focus it takes to excel as a professional athlete makes relationships complicated.
Even Avery has admitted as much.
Has that really changed now that we’re married? Or is he also trying to convince himself that this is for real because we’re already married?
Have I been too wrapped up in the bubble we created in Knoxville? Am I missing the signs?
Up until a few weeks ago, Avery and I existed more as roommates than spouses. Will that happen again if the Coyotes make the playoffs?
The fact that I don’t know, the fact that I feel so much doubt since my family showed up in Tennessee, alarms me. I hate that I’m questioning myself when I usually know my own mind.
Ale passes me a margarita and I take a long sip.
“Easy there, Vale,” Ale laughs, holding his glass up and clinking it against mine and my sister’s.
Alejandro’s protective arm falls away as he reaches for a stack of cocktail napkins. The second it does, the back of my neck tingles with awareness. I feel the shift in energy immediately. It’s as if the air in the room thins and the colors swirling around me sharpen.
I’m about to look over my shoulder again when he steps into me. I breathe in his cologne and my body relaxes although my mind whirls.
“Avery,” I say, turning to look into my husband’s eyes.
Avery’s arm tightens around my waist. His eyes are concerned when they bore into mine, but he flashes a grin for my siblings’ sake.
“What are you doing here?” I wonder.
“Congrats on the win, Callaway,” Carla says, smacking his shoulder.
It’s as if Avery doesn’t hear her. His eyes are worried as they assess mine. “Once I saw you in this dress, Lena.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t stay away if I tried. Not even for one night.”
He dips his mouth and kisses me hard on the lips and I hate myself for pulling away.