Chapter 5 Carla
Carla
“?Hola! I’m here,” I announce as I push into my brother and Marlowe’s apartment.
They purchased a beautiful four-bedroom apartment extending an entire building floor along a quiet, tree-lined street in the L’Eixample area after they tied the knot over the summer.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Marlowe says, throwing her arms around me. “Alejandro just ran down the street to buy ice.”
I relocate the pastry box I’m holding to a small console table so I can hug her back.
As her arms tighten, I hold her for an extra moment.
Mamá, Abuela, and Ale confided that Marlowe has been overwhelmed by her emotions.
Partly, it’s from her pregnancy hormones.
But it’s also stemming from her missing her friends and family in Rhode Island.
It’s difficult for her grandfather or closest friends, a group of octogenarians she refers to as her Sewing Circle, to hop on a plane.
And her father’s condition with Alzheimer’s has worsened, making it so he rarely recognizes her.
I know it’s painful for her to balance her big, happy feelings of love and impending motherhood against the backdrop of grief and nostalgia.
“How are you?” she asks, pulling back to look at me.
“I should be asking you that. How are you feeling? Abuela told me the nausea is easing.”
“Good days and bad.” Marlowe peeks into the pastry box and grins. “I love éclairs and ensaimadas!”
“I love your blueberry cheesecake.”
She beams. “I made one especially for you.”
“I can’t wait to try it.” I wrap an arm around her as we move toward the kitchen.
“Thank you. Now, be honest, how are you doing?”
I shrug, collecting my hair and tying it in a messy knot at the base of my neck.
“I’m okay. Adapting.” Marlowe lifts an eyebrow as she pours me a glass of wine.
She passes it to me, and I take a long sip.
“I’m not sure what to do next and I hate feeling so…
stuck. Like life is happening to me and I’m just watching and waiting. ”
“It’s only been a few weeks.”
“Two months,” I correct her. And then, shake my head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Marlowe touches my hand reassuringly. “It’s tough to feel like you’re moving…backwards.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “I always thought if I came home to Valencia, it would be because I was retiring from soccer. Or, because I found my person and was raising my children.” My voice trembles on the last word and by the understanding that washes over Marlowe’s face, I know she catches it.
“I didn’t know that’s something you want,” she says slowly. “Marriage, kids, that’s not something I’ve ever heard you mention, Car.”
“I know,” I sigh, rolling my lips together.
“I don’t think I realized it either. But now, you and Ale are expecting.
Kate is pregnant with her second, and Raia and Cohen are trying for a baby…
” I pause to take another sip of my wine.
“I’ve been all in on soccer for so long and now that I’ve lost it, it’s like waking up and realizing that everyone close to me has moved on in their personal lives.
They’re building something real and meaningful.
And I’m not. I mean, I felt like I was with my career but now…
I’ve lost soccer.” I blink as a flood of tears rushes forward.
“I don’t think I’ve admitted this to myself until this moment,” I ramble by way of explanation.
“That’s okay,” Marlowe says, passing me a napkin and taking one for herself to dab at her eyes. “I do that all the time. Find clarity unexpectedly. Go ahead, keep going.”
Two tears spill over my cheeks and I brush them away. Then, I polish off my glass of wine, which my sister-in-law quickly refills. “Like, what am I even doing with my life, Mar? I’m scared I’ve peaked at twenty-five and it’s all going to go downhill from here.”
“I’m scared my dad won’t know my baby. Not even for a heartbeat,” she whispers, her eyes wide and layered with hurt.
At her confession, I cry harder. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that is for you.”
“But I’m happy. About the baby,” she rushes to explain.
“I know you are. But that doesn’t mean you have to be happy one-hundred percent of the time.”
“Mostly, I’m scared,” she admits.
“Me too. What if I’m single forever?”
Marlowe shakes her head. “You won’t be. There are a thousand guys who would trip over themselves for a chance to date you.”
“But what if I don’t connect with any of them? I’ve never had anything…meaningful. Not like what you have with Alejandro.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not out there, waiting for you. You’re only twenty-five, Carla.”
“I don’t have anything to offer now.”
Marlowe scoffs. “You’re the real prize. You’re it, babe.”
I heave out an exhale, dabbing at my eyes. Squeezing her hand, I say, “I’m so thrilled my brother married you.”
“I’ve always wanted a sister. You can’t imagine how lucky I feel to have two.”
We smile at each other, our faces stained with tears, our eyes bleeding with emotion. But I feel lighter, better, since confessing my deep fears to Marlowe.
A male voice clears his throat and Marlowe and I turn to see Alejandro, Andrés, and Luca standing in the entrance to the kitchen.
“Is everything…okay here?” my brother asks slowly. His eyebrows pull low. “Are you crying?”
Concern flashes across Luca’s face and I don’t miss the way his eyes—melted chocolate—assess me. His jaw is tight and he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his feet.
“Don’t call her out for it,” Andrés hisses. “She’s pregnant.”
“I was asking my sister,” Ale mumbles back.
At Ale’s words, a muscle tics in Luca’s jaw.
I pull my gaze from his and look at Ale.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, dragging the napkin under my eyes.
“We’re great,” Marlowe gushes, unconvincingly. “I just, you know, miss wine.” She adds more to my glass, making it a double pour.
I narrow my eyes at her and she shrugs weakly.
“Want to fire up the grill?” She turns toward Ale.
My brother looks between us. “Are you—”
“I chopped vegetables too to make skewers,” Marlowe cuts him off, linking her arm with his and directing him toward the grill.
“I’ll grab the trays,” Andrés offers, moving toward the refrigerator.
Luca loiters close by, his expression softening. “Everything alright, cucciola?”
“It’s fine,” I whisper.
Luca dips his head. Sighs. “If only you would talk to me…”
A soft smile touches my lips at the sincerity in his tone.
“Open the door, tío,” Andrés interrupts, flipping his chin toward the sliding doors to the terrace, his hands loaded with trays of meat and veggies.
Luca springs into action, pulling the door open for him. Before he follows Andrés outside, he glances at me over his shoulder. “I’m still waiting on you.”
My heart rate kicks up at the warmth in his eyes before he closes the sliding door, cutting off our connection.
“Madre mía,” I murmur to myself, glancing down at the countertop. Get a grip, Carla. He means he’s still waiting on you to talk to him, probably since you leave his text messages on read. Or, waiting on you to apply for the job he keeps bringing up.
Don’t read into something that’s not there.
He’s your brother’s best friend and has always wanted the best for you. Nothing’s changed.
Still, my heart gallops at Luca’s proximity, at the worry that washed over his facial features when he realized I was crying, at the thoughtfulness he constantly exudes.
Luca is a caretaker by nature. I’ve seen him step up and go out of his way for countless people—my brother, his teammates, League Valencia office staff, young players. He’s a good man with a big heart and I’m no one special.
I know this. I just need to remember it.
Because lately, I feel just desperate and reckless enough to do something stupid. And crossing a line with Luca is one I can’t come back from. I know better than to go there.
After a delicious dinner at my brother’s house, I hang back to clean up.
“You don’t have to do that,” Marlowe says, reaching for a plate.
“No, you don’t have to do this,” my brother says, plucking the plate from her hand. He glances at me. “You can carry on though.”
I flip him the middle finger and he laughs.
I continue to stack plates but pause as Ale kisses Marlowe’s cheek. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be there in a bit.” He says it tenderly, and emotion swells in my throat.
I’ve never had a man look at me the way Alejandro looks at Marlowe. Avery looks at Valentina the same way. Like they are the singular most important thing in their lives, even more valuable than oxygen.
“Okay,” Marlowe agrees, rounding the table to wrap me in a warm hug. “Thank you for coming, Car.”
“Thank you for the cheesecake.” I kiss her cheeks goodbye.
Alejandro watches as she leaves the kitchen and retires to their bedroom. Then, he looks at me and fires off in Spanish. “Why was she crying before? Why were you?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s between us.”
“Carla.” He drags out my name, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “If something is wrong—”
“Marlowe is fine. She’s happy and processing big feelings. Everything is good,” I cut him off.
He sighs and picks up a stack of plates. “So, what’s going on with you? You never cry.”
Andrés enters the kitchen, his phone pressed to his ear.
Ale lifts his eyebrows.
“I’m heading out. Thanks for dinner,” Andrés says.
“Nada, hombre. Nos vemos luego,” Ale replies, saying goodbye.
“It was good to see you, Andrés. Have a good night,” I add.
He grins at me, blowing a kiss. “Vale, bye, Carla.”
In the living room, Luca shuts down the gaming console he and Andrés were playing.
Ale turns back to me. “Why are you—” He pauses, tilting his head to listen. “I think Marlowe’s sick.”
“Go!” I flick my wrist toward his bedroom. “I’ll finish cleaning and lock up on my way out.”
Ale flashes a quick grin, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “Gracias, Carla. How lucky to have you home.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur, scraping food off the plates and loading the dishwasher. I hum to myself, going through the motions of tidying the kitchen.
When I look up, I note Luca stacking Tupperware of leftovers.
“You don’t have to do that,” I mumble.
“I want to,” he replies. “Did you drive here?”
“Walked.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
I pause, leaning against the countertop. “You don’t have to do that either.”
Luca smirks, his dark eyes gleaming. “Want to do that too.” He winks playfully, pulling open the refrigerator door and placing the Tupperware containers inside.
I suck in a breath and shake my head to clear my wayward thoughts. Luca has always been sweet and protective of me, treating me similarly as my own brother. Hell, most of the time, Luca was more indulgent than Alejandro.
But this borders on flirting.
And that’s dangerous.
I bite my bottom lip.
I’ve crushed on Luca DiBlanco all through secondary school. I’ve followed his career just as diligently as I followed my brother’s. I’ve quietly cheered him on for years, watching his life unfold from the sidelines.
And that’s the only place for a crush like mine.