Chapter 14 Luca
Luca
“Girls,” I repeat, staring at her.
“It’s kind of my thing.” Her eyes dance and she leans forward, clearly excited about the prospect.
“I-I’m not sure,” I say slowly. Carla’s face falls and I quickly tack on, “I’m not not open to the idea. I’m just wondering, given the timing, if we’d be able to open it up and do the additional component justice.”
She nods, her expression thoughtful. “What if we started small? And opened one small girl group, ten participants max, and I would personally oversee setting up their training. And, if you’re worried about how it would work for the full two weeks, we can try it for the first week only.”
I turn the idea over in my mind.
“Luca.” Carla drags her fingertips over my forearm. “Yes, I’m in. I’ll help you no matter what you decide. But I think adding a girls’ program, or at least introducing one, could be great for the camp. It would mean more press coverage.”
“It would also piss off a lot of families,” I counter.
“Paying families,” she mutters.
I nod.
“Unless it’s framed as a sister school, so to speak. It’s not taking away from the boys’ program but adding to it.”
“And how would it do that?”
Carla chews the corner of her lip, thinking. “More funding…”
I quirk an eyebrow.
“More scouts,” she continues.
“And how would you do this?”
“I know people.”
I snort. “Ex-boyfriend, people?”
She laughs. “No, female soccer players and supporters, people.”
“The Tornadoes.”
“For starters. Plus, Kate and my college crew. I could make this work. I promise.”
I look at her, noting the spark in her eyes. The excitement spreading across her expression. She looks focused and hungry and…happy. She looks the way I did when I decided to start this camp in my father’s honor.
Hopeful and determined.
“Please, Luca,” she says, her voice soft.
And I see her. The woman who needs a win. A cause. Something to sink her teeth into and grind away at and prove that she can do it. That she is enough. Hell, more than enough.
“Okay. Yes.”
“Oh my God!” she squeals, throwing her arms around me.
Then, she grabs my chin and kisses me hard.
“Grazie mille!” She thanks me in Italian and I grin.
I like that Carla and I naturally blend Italian, Spanish and English when we speak to each other.
It’s always been that way between us—familiar and personal. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”
“Promise?”
“Sí, yes. Te prometto.”
My stomach tightens as huskiness drips into her voice.
And deep down, I know she’s going to flip my entire life upside down. All the steadiness I’ve clung to for years, the dad jokes I’ve endured from my teammates, the grief my sister’s put me through with her antics—it will all pale in comparison to the roller coaster that is Carla García.
And fuck if I don’t want to hold on and free-fall beside her.
Cupping her cheek, I lean in and kiss her back. Softer, sweeter.
And intentional as hell.
“It’s not your job to find my sister steady employment,” Alejandro announces when I walk into Corcho. He lifts his beer in my direction. “But I thank you, tío. In fact, my whole family thanks you.”
I shake my head and slide into the seat across from him at the high-top table in the back. “I’m happy she agreed. I could use the help.”
“Be prepared for the headache,” Ale quips.
I shake my head. I know the Garcías view Carla as the wild child.
In that respect, she’s similar to my sister.
But just because she doesn’t have Alejandro’s cutthroat outlook doesn’t mean she’s not ambitious.
And just because she doesn’t possess Valentina’s softness doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings.
“She wants to open the program up to girls,” I say, thanking Joe for the beer he brings over.
“She’s already trying to call the shots?” Ale lifts an eyebrow. “You sure you want to bring her on board?”
“I’m sure,” I say. “It’s good to see her excited about something. And, honestly, she’s not wrong. The camp should include a girls’ program. I just…haven’t gotten around to it.”
“You’ve been busy,” Ale murmurs, a sliver of sympathy in his tone. It’s no secret that Mamma’s illness and looking after Bianca has kept me preoccupied for years.
“Well, it feels good to have the mental bandwidth to consider expanding. Even though timing is going to be tight.”
“I bet.”
“Where’s Andrés?” I ask, glancing around the bar.
I wonder if I should bring up Sergio and the shit he’s putting Carla through to Alejandro.
If some guy was giving my sister shit, I’d want to know about it.
But I also don’ t want to betray Carla’s trust. And I definitely don’t want to mention it in front of any more people than necessary. Even Andrés.
“Bailed,” Ale replies. Shrugs. “He said something came up.”
“Oh,” I reply, taking a swig of my beer. Where would I even start with Sergio? Did Carla tell her family anything? “I hope everything is okay,” I tack on absentmindedly.
“You worry too damn much, tío. And right now, you have bigger things to worry about than Andrés. Carla is a tornado when she gets invested in something. Get ready for her to pester the hell out of you.”
I cluck my tongue, momentarily putting Sergio on the back burner. I don’t like how hard Ale’s being on Carla. I open my mouth to defend her when Ale continues.
“But in the end…” He tips his beer in my direction. “It will probably be your best camp ever. Carla knows how to pull together an event. You’ll get more coverage and PR buzz this summer than you’ve ever had.”
“You think so?”
“I know it. Besides, she’s friends with the owner of a huge sports magazine in the States. She’ll make sure your camp, especially its opening the doors to a girls’ program, gets a shoutout and prime placement.”
“She’s friends with the owner?”
“She briefly dated him.”
I work a swallow, hating to hear about another man who once had my girl’s attention.
But she’s not my girl. At least not yet. We’ve shared one kiss and…
“What?” I murmur, realizing I’ve tuned Ale out.
“The magazine is growing and does a lot of collabs now. It could be a good connection for Bianca too,” Ale repeats.
“Oh, yeah, cool. Why did Carla and the guy break up?” I wonder, hating how obvious I’m being.
But Alejandro snorts and shakes his head. “You know my sister. It was something insane. I think she accused him of tucking his shirt into his boxers or some shit.” He laughs. “Carla’s the best girl in the world. As long as you’re not dating her.”
My stomach sours at Ale’s assessment. Because I think Carla’s the best too…and I want to date her. But it’s too soon to tell my best friend that. I don’t even know what Carla and I are or where this is going…
But I do know that if she tries to break up with me because I sleep on the left side of my bed or once used Comic Sans in an email, I won’t accept it.
I breathe a little easier now that Carla’s on board for the summer camp.
In fact, with her support, I’m able to dive into the logistics and details of camp management.
Paolo sends me all the confirmed information up until his departure and I spend a few days going through the documents, making notes, and drafting up plans.
“You’re working too hard,” álvaro accuses in Castellano when I pop by the hospital to visit him.
“I hear you’re getting discharged tomorrow,” I reply, sitting in the chair beside his bed. “Then, you can start PT.”
He offers a tight smile and flicks a dismissive wrist in my direction.
“What’s the prognosis, old man?” I ask, knowing the hospital never would have kept him this long if something wasn’t wrong.
“I’m not dying yet.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
álvaro gives me a cheeky grin. “You worry too much, Luca. You’re going to go prematurely gray.”
“With these curls?” I give my head a little shake. “I can pull it off.”
He chuckles. Then sighs heavily. “It’s my heart,” he admits slowly. “The rhythm is off. The doctor says I’ll need a pacemaker.”
I release the breath I’m holding. “Alright. What does that mean long-term?”
“Argh,” álvaro huffs. “It means changing my lifestyle and diet, that’s what it means,” he harrumphs. “The doctor says I need to take it easy—”
“Like retirement?”
álvaro gives me a look.
“It’s time, you know?”
“I know,” he admits sullenly.
I lean forward. “álvaro, I can help—”
“I don’t need help, Luca,” he says seriously. “I’ll be seventy-five next month. My wife passed twenty-three years ago, and in that time, I’ve shown up for work, fed my cats, and played cards on Friday nights. I’ve saved enough money to last my lifetime.”
“Then, why—”
“I like the kids,” he interjects. His expression darkens. “If you tell them that, I’ll kill you.”
I snort.
“I have a reputation to maintain, you know?”
“Sure.”
“But I like being around their energy. Kids keep you young. I like being around the game of fútbol. I like the routine of my work, of showing up somewhere where people are expecting me, even relying on me. It gives my life, at this age, a purpose.”
I sag in my chair, hearing what he’s saying. “Entiendo.” I understand.
He closes his eyes. “The thought of being cooped up in my flat with nothing to do, day after day after day, sounds terrible.”
I place my hand on top of his and pat it. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”
álvaro doesn’t bother responding, but I tuck the information away to mull on later. I’ll come up with something.