Chapter 15 #2
Marlowe settles Antonio with some toys in the living room and the rest of us gather around the table.
Carla passes me a plate. “Try these,” she says, placing some potatoes on my plate. “These are patatas bravas. This is a tortilla,” she continues, indicating a second plate.
“Basically, a frittata,” Bianca translates.
Alejandro and Carla glare at her.
She shrugs. “The Spanish believe there’s a massive difference. There isn’t.”
Marlowe snickers as she takes her seat. “Is this your first time in Spain, Niko?”
“Yes. And it’s a short visit,” I explain.
“Not planning to spend more time here?” Andrés pokes.
I grin at him. “Oh, I’ll be here often.”
Beside me, Bianca’s posture straightens.
“How do you like Stuttgart?” Alejandro asks, changing the subject.
“It’s alright. I’m still getting used to the team,” I admit cautiously.
“Good luck. Coach Miller is a tough old bastard,” Alejandro mutters.
I dip my head in agreement but don’t voice my thoughts.
“You’ve been making different headlines since your move,” Luca says, leaning back in his chair. “No more Greek God of Goals. Now, it’s about some mystery woman.”
Bianca groans. “It was his childhood best friend. She was visiting with his brother for Niko’s first two games.”
“The media can be rough,” Marlowe sympathizes.
“Yeah, well, I intend to make better headlines going forward,” I reply, placing my hand on her knee under the table.
She shifts her weight but doesn’t push my hand away and I squeeze her knee lightly letting her know I got this. Everything is fine.
“Good man,” Carla encourages, grinning at me.
The conversation eases after that. We talk soccer, life in Europe, and about little Antonio.
It’s wild, if I think about it, that I’m sitting at a dinner table with three soccer players I greatly admire.
Three players whose careers I’ve followed for years.
But I’m not starstruck or trying to get in their good graces as a player or an athlete.
I’m here because of Bianca and that changes everything. I don’t need them to think I’m talented on the field. I only care that they think I’m good enough for Bianca and our baby.
Relaxing slightly, I help myself to the delicious tapas, savor my wine, and engage in the conversation. I make sure to answer their questions as honestly as I can while also trying to get to know them.
Little by little, Bianca relaxes too. She rests against the back of her chair, loosens her grip on her fork, and laughs more freely with her friends and family.
At one point, she even places her hand on top of mine to give a little squeeze. And that connection lets me know that she feels it too. We’re in this, whatever the hell this is, together.
After almost two hours of conversation, with Marlowe excusing herself several times to check on Antonio, Bianca yawns.
“Sleepy?” I ask softly.
She nods, giving me a smile, even as her eyelids grow heavy.
“Go rest,” I urge her.
“Not yet,” she murmurs.
I tilt my head, studying the exhaustion that lines her chocolate eyes. “Honeybee.”
She snorts. Blinks. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Wow,” Marlowe whispers.
I turn, not realizing that the entire table had gone silent and was watching—studying—my exchange with Bianca.
Marlowe leans closer, as if hanging on to our every word, a dreamy expression on her face. Carla looks pleased. Alejandro appears casual and open. Luca eyes me with begrudging respect.
But Andrés Huntington, man, he glares at me like he wants to stick his fork through my hand. Scoffing, he cuts into his eggplant, and says, “Seriously? You think you can spend one weekend with her and now show up and play fucking house?”
“Andrés,” Luca growls, the warning clear in his tone.
Bianca sucks in a breath, a pang of hurt crossing her face.
My hackles rise but I don’t let my temper show. He wants me to react and the second I do, I lose the credibility I’ve slowly built over the course of the evening.
Instead, I opt for the truth. “I get it. Where you’re coming from.”
Surprise flares in Huntington’s eyes.
“But I’m not playing at anything,” I continue. “I’m showing up. And I’ll keep showing up. Every day.”
Andrés’ jaw tightens and his nostrils flare. “Big words for a guy who doesn’t live here.”
I take a sip of my water and level him with a sharp look. “Don’t confuse where I play with who I am.”
Across the table, Marlowe’s eyes dart between me, Huntington, and Bianca before she sucks in an inhale.
“What’s wrong?” Alejandro jumps.
“Nothing,” she squeaks, shaking her head.
But she exchanges a long look with Bianca that causes Bianca to sigh again. “Maybe I should get to sleep.”
“Okay,” I reply, standing and helping her to her feet.
“She can stand on her own, Karas,” Andrés says. “She’s been doing it for a long, long time.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “And she makes it look easier than it is.”
I turn toward Carla and Luca. “Thank you for tonight. I’m really glad I got the chance to meet you all.”
“Likewise,” Carla says, standing.
Luca pushes to his feet too and Alejandro and Marlowe follow suit. Only Huntington stays seated. Shocking.
I grin. “You don’t all have to stand. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“It was great to meet you!” Marlowe gushes.
“You too,” I say, lifting my hand in a farewell wave.
Bianca, Luca, and Carla follow me to the foyer.
Luca extends a hand and I shake it. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for having me,” I reply, meaning it.
He nods and steps back as I hug Carla goodbye. They move back toward their friends, giving Bianca and me a moment to ourselves.
“You’ll call me once you have a doctor’s appointment?” I prod.
“Yes.”
“And if you need anything? Or are worried about anything?”
A small smile flickers over her mouth. “Yes. I’ll call.”
“Okay.”
“You’re really heading to the airport in a few hours?” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “How are you going to play tomorrow? You’re going to be exhausted.”
“I’ll be fine; don’t worry about me.”
She places her hands on my shoulders and presses up onto her toes to kiss my cheeks goodbye. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Count on it, Honeybee.”