Chapter Thirty-Four
T he small, local restaurant that my mother picked for lunch is charming in its simplicity, and Santi pulls out a chair for me before sitting across from my mum, who’s already scanning the menu with her reading glasses perched on her nose.
“You really didn’t have to join us, you know” my mother says with a polite smile, though I can tell from her tone and smug expression that she’s absolutely delighted by his presence. “I’m sure you have more exciting things to do than spending your afternoon with us.”
“On the contrary,” Santi replies smoothly, leaning back in his chair and flashing her that easy smile that could charm just about anyone. “There’s nothing I’d rather do. Besides, I’ve heard so many wonderful stories about you and about Manchester, too - I wanted to be able to spend some more time with you, Mrs. Bennett. So long as that’s okay with you.”
“Oh, do call me Margaret,” she says with a wave of her hand, though I catch the faint blush rising to her cheeks.
“Margaret, then,” he says warmly. “It’s a pleasure.”
Mum gives me a quick, approving look over the top of her glasses before turning her attention back to the menu. I try my best not to roll my eyes at her silliness.
The waiter comes by to take our orders. Mum chooses a hearty chicken pie while Santi opts for the steak sandwich, and I stick with a classic caesar salad. I’m still not feeling the best - drinking wine late into the evening last night combined with an emotional reunion with Santi hasn’t been the best combination for my head - and I can’t really face the thought of eating much.
Once the waiter leaves, my mother turns her full attention back to Santi.
“So, Santiago -”
“Santi, please,” he interjects smoothly.
She nods. “Santi. Tell me, how did you end up playing rugby? I’ve always wondered how people get into these sorts of things at a professional level. Hobbies, certainly; but to be able to make a career out of it seems incredibly impressive. Were you just born with it?”
He chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“Not quite. My dad played rugby when he was younger, and my uncle used to take me to matches when I was a kid. I fell in love with the game really early on. In Spain, football is the biggest sport; it’s so popular, and so much money is invested into it. But my passion was always more for rugby. I didn’t really think it could be a career until I was a teenager, though. That’s when I started getting serious about it.”
“And you’ve been playing ever since?”
“Pretty much, yes,” Santi confirms with an easy smile. “There have been some injuries along the way, of course, but I’ve been lucky to have a solid career so far.”
“I imagine the lifestyle has its perks, too,” Mum says with a knowing look, her tone bordering on playful. “Especially for a single young gentleman.”
Santi chuckles, glancing at me briefly before responding. “It does have its moments, Margaret, but it’s not as glamorous as people think. It’s a lot of hard work, strict schedules, tough diets and countless hours of training. If I’m not in the gym, then I’m training, and if I’m not training then I’m at home, resting.”
Mum raises an eyebrow, not letting him off the hook so easily.
“Oh, come on now. You’re telling me there’s no glamour at all? Surely the attention must be... flattering?”
He laughs, a light, easy sound that has my lips curving upwards.
“I suppose it can be,” he admits, his grin widening. “But most of the time, it’s just part of the job. And, to be honest, I’ve never been all that interested in that side of things.”
“Really?” Mum presses, clearly intrigued. “I would’ve thought a handsome young man like yourself would enjoy a bit of excitement now and then.”
“Mum!” I practically squeal, though she just looks at me with a completely unashamed expression.
“I won’t lie,” Santi says, his voice warm and honest. “There was a time when I got caught up in it. The money, the parties, the media attention - it went to my head a little. You have to remember, I was twenty years old when I had my big break for the team, suddenly put into the spotlight and earning more money than I could have dreamed of being possible. But it didn’t take long to realise that the lifestyle… ah, it just wasn’t for me. I’d much rather spend my time with the people who matter. The ones who know me for who I really am, not just the guy they see on TV.”
He glances at me again as he finishes speaking, and my cheeks flush under his gaze.
Mum notices, of course, and her lips curve into a pleased smile .
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got your priorities straight, Santi. That’s rare in someone so young and successful.”
“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “Though I think meeting Olivia has helped with that. She keeps me grounded.”
“Oh, does she now?” Mum teases, her eyes twinkling as she looks at me.
I groan, hiding my face in my hands.
“Can we not make this about me?”
“Too late for that, love,” Mum says with a laugh. “I’m just saying, it’s nice to see a young man with his head screwed on straight. You don’t meet many like him these days.”
Santi’s expression softens at that. “I appreciate that, Margaret. But honestly, Olivia really is the one who keeps me grounded. She reminds me every day what really matters. That’s why I knew I had to come out here - why I couldn’t wait. Even if she didn’t want me to follow her.”
Mum reaches out to pat the back of my hand, her voice gentle but filled with affection.
“Well, it sounds like you two make a good team. I’m glad you’ve found each other.”
Oh, she adores him - I can tell.
Santi’s gaze locks with mine, and for a moment, everything else fades away.
“So am I,” he says quietly, his words meant just for me.
Mum clears her throat gently. “I have to ask, Santi - does it ever get... overwhelming, for you? The fame, I mean. I can’t imagine it’s easy.”
“It has its moments,” he admits. “But I try to focus on the positives. I get to do what I love, and I’ve met some incredible people along the way. Your daughter, for example.”
My cheeks flush, and Mum raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by how effortlessly he’s managed to weave that compliment in.
He really is laying this on thick.
“Well, you’re doing a good job of handling it, from what I can see,” she says with a nod. “Though I suppose it helps to have good people around you.”
“It does,” he agrees, his gaze flickering to me again.
For a moment, there’s a comfortable silence as my mother takes a sip of her water.
But then, as if the thought has been simmering at the back of her mind, she sets her glass down and leans forward slightly, her expression turning more serious.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Santi responds.
“I know Olivia’s been having a hard time with the media lately,” Mum begins, glancing at me briefly before continuing. “It’s one thing for you - you’re used to it, I’m sure - but it’s all very new for her. It’s... well, as you know, it’s been a lot for her to deal with.”
I stiffen slightly in my seat, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin on my lap. “Mum -”
“No, it’s okay,” Santi interrupts gently, his focus shifting entirely to her. “I understand. You’re worried about her, and you should be.”
Mum’s brows lift slightly, surprised by his candid response, but she nods.
“I am. She’s never been one for bringing attention to herself. In school, she always kept her head down. She was so focused on her work and didn’t have much interest in anything else. A bit of a wallflower, really. And now, all of a sudden, she’s being dragged into this world where everyone has an opinion about her. I just... I want to know she’s going to be okay. That she’s going to be looked after.”
“I want that too,” Santi says. “I’ve been trying to shield her from as much of it as I can, but I know it’s not enough. I hate seeing her upset. It’s... hard for me, too, because I know she didn’t sign up for any of this.”
I glance at him, but his eyes remain fixed on my mother.
“What happened with the article shouldn’t have happened,” he continues. “It crossed a line, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’ve spoken to my manager, and we’re already working on ways to handle things better moving forward. But more than that, I want Olivia to know that she doesn’t have to face any of this alone. I’m here for her, whatever she needs.”
Mum’s expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, her hand resting on her chest.
“You’re a good man, Santi,” she says quietly.
“I don’t know about that. But I care about your daughter. More than anything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’s happy and safe.”
My heart twists, and I look down at my lap, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice.
“Well, you’ve got my vote,” Mum says after a moment, her tone lightening. “Just don’t go breaking her heart, alright?”
“Mum!” I say, my face burning with embarrassment.
Santi chuckles, glancing at me before responding.
“I have no intention of doing that, Margaret. Trust me. ”
The food arrives, and the conversation shifts to lighter topics as we eat. Santi charms my mother even further with stories about growing up in Spain and the antics he and his teammates get up to during training.
And just to top it off, he even asks her about her garden, a subject she can talk about for hours. He listens intently as she describes her latest battle with the neighbourhood fox that keeps digging up her flower beds, and she gasps in delight when he tells her about his own mother’s love of gardening.
Show off.
“You’ll have to come to Spain sometime,” Santi says as he cuts into his sandwich. “I know Olivia’s mentioned how much she misses home, but Valencia is beautiful, too. You’d love it: the food, the beaches, the atmosphere.”
“Oh, I’m not much of a traveler these days. But it does sound lovely.” She pauses, her gaze softening. “You’re very kind, Santi. I can see why Olivia likes you so much.”
Before I can feel too embarrassed, Santi grins.
“I think it’s the other way around, Margaret. I’m the lucky one.”
She turns to me immediately as soon as he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, her expression alight with approval.
“He’s lovely,” she says. Her voice is hushed but brimming with enthusiasm as she beams across the table at me. “So genuine. And, let’s be real, bloody gorgeous, too! My goodness, Olivia. His eyes… Oh, he’s even better in person than in those pictures you’ve been avoiding sending to me. I don’t know why you’re not showing him off for the whole world - if I were thirty years younger, I certainly would be!”
“ Mum ,” I scold her, though there’s laughter in my voice.
“I mean it,” she says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve found a good one, love. Don’t let fear ruin this for you. He’s clearly crazy about you.”
I simply smile knowingly at her as Santi returns to the table.
By the time we’re walking back to the car, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back, I’ve made up my mind.
As much as I’ve needed this time at home, it’s time to go back. To face my life in Spain. To face the challenges - and the joys - that come with being with Santi.
When we reach the car, Santi opens the door for me, his eyes searching mine as if he can sense the shift in my mood.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice steady. “It’s just… I think I’m ready to go home.”
His expression brightens, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Whenever you’re ready, my love.”