Chapter Seventy-Nine
I might talk a big game, but that’s just for Rafa’s benefit. In reality, I’m losing my shit.
We make it to the door, my hand shaking as I raise it to knock, but it never makes contact.
The dark wooden door swings open, with my dad standing on the other side, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looks between us, making no effort to let us inside.
“What the hell is my team captain doing here?” he asks, his brows pinched together. If he wasn’t referring to Rafael when he said “both of you” earlier, who on earth could he have meant? Had Noah got a hold of him and spewed lies about him and me?
Neither of us makes any move to speak, a sudden chill zipping down my spine at the intensity in my dad’s glare. This is a man who is never upset about anything. Why did he have to choose this moment to take life so seriously?
He lets out a huff, stepping out of the way and opening the door wide for us to pass through.
Or, to let me pass through, rather. His foot shoots out, physically stopping Rafael as he halts in the doorway, his large frame shaking with suppressed terror. I don’t even blame him. My father is a big man, and he can pack a punch, both literally and metaphorically, with his big personality.
I sidestep my father, whose grimace seems to waiver, but maybe that’s just me being hopeful, and step back out onto the covered porch.
I peek up at Rafael, who has a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, tugging on his hand, I help him uncement his feet from the wooden planks.
He follows me into the main dining room in the front of the house. The table is set with a colourful red bouquet of Ceibo spilling onto the white tablecloth. I’ve only ever seen those flowers in one place.
Rafael must be thinking the same as he loosens his grip on my hand, letting it fall to my side as he bends over the table and lifts one of the waxy flower petals in his palm. He takes a moment to inspect it, working his jaw on a swallow.
“Beautiful flowers, aren’t they?” Dad asks, his words spoken through gritted teeth, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches Rafa’s movements.
Rafael’s gulp is audible, which only serves to add to the way my gut is beginning to churn with bile.
“Very beautiful, sir,” Rafa answers. Dad’s lip twitches, but he says nothing as Rafael turns, pulling my chair out for me and taking a seat in his own.
His leg bounces, the silverware rattling on the table. He reaches for his glass of water, and it’s painful to watch the way his hand physically shakes, water spilling over the top of his glass as he brings it to his mouth, guzzling the clear liquid as if it’ll somehow save him.
Dad’s deep baritone cuts through the unnerving silence. “I’ve heard they’re a symbol of both bravery and resilience in Argentina.”
Rafael’s body stills beside me, a beat passing before he places his glass down and turns his full attention on my father. “You’ve known this whole time, haven’t you?” Rafael asks, his words so quiet I can barely hear them.
I deflate, my shoulders sinking as I realise just how right Rafael is, and based on this strange taunting he’s doing, he’s not really mad. Though Dad does have a flare for the dramatics.
Rafael manages to wipe the stunned expression off his face, resting a hand on my thigh.
“Rafael isn’t great about logging out of his email when he works at my desk between practices,” Dad deadpans.
It takes a second, but some memory must click because Rafael pulls his phone out of his back pocket and sifts through his messages. He leans across me, bringing the phone to my face, and all the air whooshes from my lungs.
It’s the picture he’d taken of our names drawn on the wall of the church.
“I assumed something was going on between you two for a while before that, but I wasn’t sure how serious it was until I saw that photo pop up on my screen.
I didn’t want to pry, so I just waited until you got around to telling me.
I guess today is that day,” he says, relaxing back into his chair and resting the back of his head on his crossed arms, his grimace now a taunting smirk.
“Any particular reason why we had to move things up?” he asks, his greying brows knitting together, causing his usual relaxed expression to shift into something more serious.
“Noah found out about us and is threatening to blackmail us,” I admit, my mouth growing dry and my cheeks heating.
Dad leans on his elbows, concern now marring his features. “What could he possibly have to blackmail you with? Better yet”—he shakes his head—“what does he want?”
Rafael clears his throat, and I feel the bounce of his leg as his black slacks slide against my calf.
“He wants Elise to leave me for him, and his little plan was to tell you about our relationship if we didn’t tell you first. Clearly, that didn’t work because we had already planned to tell you.
We were just waiting for the end of the season to do so. ”
“And because I have zero intention to leave him,” I cut in, giving Rafael a sideways glance. “Ever.”
Dad’s posture relaxes again, and he releases an audible sigh, an easy smile sliding onto his tanned cheeks.
“Well, I’m relieved to hear you’ve been planning to tell me either way, but that little shit Noah has another thing coming if he thinks he can try and manipulate my daughter into doing a damn thing.
He acts as if he isn’t just another nepo baby relying on his daddy’s money,” he says with a scoff and roll of his eyes.
“Good thing I know his father. If he wants to act like a child, he can be treated like one.”
And this is one of many reasons I love my dad. He sees things in their entirety and is always the first to work out a reasonable plan for how to deal with them while setting me completely at ease.
All the anxiety vanishes from my body as I slump against Rafa’s shoulder. The tension from his muscles has disappeared too, and he wraps an arm around me, kissing the top of my head just how I love.
“So,” Rafa ventures. “You aren’t…mad?”
Dad squawks out a laugh. “What? No, of course not.” He shakes his head.
“It was just fun to see you sweat. My daughter is a woman, more than capable of making her own decisions. I’m her father, a part of her support system but not her entire world anymore,” he says, and the words make the tip of my nose burn as he gives me a glassy-eyed smile.
“If she chose you, then I will too. I’m not her owner, and she isn’t my property. ”
“Thank you,” Rafa says, the words passing his lips like a whispered prayer, sent straight to heaven.
I look back across the table at Dad, and his eyes practically have hearts glittering in them. The man is a true romantic.
“I just love love,” he sing-songs, resting his cheek on his palm as he takes us in. “I’ll admit this is weird, but I’m willing to bet it’s a lot less weird than if this had happened with Coach Lyon,” he jokes, and Rafael’s choking laughter fills the small dining area.
I sit up and pat him on the back, my cheeks aching from my unrelenting smile. “Well, this conversation has been positively enlightening. Now, what are we having for dinner?” I ask as my stomach rumbles loudly.
Despite the formal setup of the dining room, Dad serves us croque monsieur , which is essentially a grilled cheese with Gruyère, ham, and béchamel sauce. It’s one of my favourite comfort foods, but I’m entirely too lazy to learn how to make a bloody béchamel.
The time passes quickly as we discuss the trips we took together without Dad knowing, and I apologise about a million times because the guilt of not including him in so much has been gnawing away at me.
Dad sets that to rest after the millionth and one time, all but shouting at me to quit apologising.
Laughter is wheezing from my lungs as Dad and I make jokes at Rafael’s expense. “And then—” I suck in a breath. “You should’ve seen his face when Santiago admitted that he didn’t want Rafael’s autograph, he wanted mine. ” My cheeks burn. “He didn’t even know who Rafael was.”
“And someday, everyone in the world will know who you are, mi vida ,” Rafael says against my ear, but apparently not low enough because my dad makes a mock-vomiting sound.
“Come on! Not at the dinner table. People are trying to eat here,” Dad whines. “Save the sugary sweet crap for dessert.”
Rafa’s face has been glowing red the entire time we’ve been here, and I’m not sure that’ll stop anytime soon.
After dinner, we all work together to clean up before crashing on the couch, where Dad demands we stick around for a movie, the time passing too quickly.
I stretch my arms over my head, yawning loudly as the romcom comes to an end. Dad swipes at his eyes watching the credits roll by. “That damn movie gets me every time,” he murmurs. Such a softy.
He flicks the telly off and turns the lamp beside him on. “I guess you two should be heading home, huh?”
“Probably, but we can have dinner anytime. You know, now that you’re in the loop,” Rafael tells him.
Dad rolls his eyes, standing, and we follow suit, heading to the door. He wraps me in a crushing hug that’s so comforting I don’t bother telling him that he’s ripping my hair out with his big arm.
“Goodnight, Dad. Thanks for having us, and for”—I look down at my feet—“for everything else.”
“Anything for you, mon petit chou ,” he tells me. He turns his attention to Rafa, opening his arms wide, and that signature smirk is plastered on his face again. “Come here, big guy. We’re family now.”
Rafa reluctantly steps into his arms, and I swear I see him melt just a little bit.
“This day has been so fucking weird,” I whine, stripping out of my clothes, leaving pieces littered on the floor as I make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“You’re telling me. I was ninety percent sure your dad was going to kill me and the nice guy act was to throw me off so I wouldn’t see it coming,” he says.
“Yoo nefer know,” I mutter around my toothbrush, “coot still hapfen.”
I don’t miss the way a shiver runs through him, but ignore it, fearing for his pride if I bring up his completely unwarranted fear of my father.
I spit out the toothpaste, rinse the brush and then my mouth, padding across the plush carpet with Rafael trailing dutifully behind me. I find Mrs. Purrito curled on top of Rafael’s pillow when I crawl into bed. “Seems she’s come to love having her own pillow,” I say.
“Yeah, well, I hope you like sharing because I think that’s going to be our reality,” he grumbles, climbing in behind me and tugging on the end of my pillow.
“Absolutely not, I refuse to share,” I whine.
His hand lands on the base of my belly, rubbing soothing circles, and a sigh slips past my lips.
He nuzzles against my neck, nipping at the skin, and blows a cool breath over my ear that causes goosebumps to erupt.
“Sharing is caring, sunshine. Now get some sleep, and I’ll show you just how much I care about you in the morning,” he whispers, settling against me.
My thighs clench, but Mrs. Purrito distracts me from my trance. She stands to shift her ass right in my face, circling the pillow and plopping down, resuming her loud engine-like purrs.
As strange as sharing six inches of a king-sized bed with a man the size of a tank and a cat who won’t shut up and is constantly trying to smother me with her arse fur might seem, I can’t help but sigh into my new reality, drifting to sleep knowing I’ve got everything I want, right here.
The end.