37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Samantha
Juan’s hug is fierce as we say goodbye outside the airport. “I will love to see you again soon,” he tells me when he releases the embrace. “You are good for my son. My wife would love you.”
My eyes soon match the sheen in his, and I hug him once more.
Turning to Adrián, I say, “I’ll wait in the car.
” I get into the front seat of his SUV to give them a moment, catching their emotional embrace in the side mirror.
Adrián waits on the sidewalk as his dad goes through the airport’s glass doors, and he holds up his hand in a final wave a few seconds later.
His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses when he gets into the car, but the tightness around his mouth reveals the emotions he’s fighting to keep in. I reach over and place my hand on his knee, lightly squeezing. After he pulls the car away from the curb, he covers my hand with his.
We ride in silence for a few minutes until he says, “We talked about my mom last night. And he’s not going to move here. He wants to stay in Venezuela.”
“Oh, Adrián,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
He threads his fingers through mine and says, “I’m sorry for me. But I’m not sorry for him. I understand why he wants to stay. I’ll fly him up to visit more often.”
“Will you take me to Venezuela sometime?” I ask, shifting the mood for him. “You know, after you win the World Series and get a break for a couple of months?”
Adrián grins and brings my hand to his lips to kiss my fingers at a red light. “I’ll absolutely take you to Venezuela. We’d better get to work on your Spanish.”
“Hey, I think my Rs are really improving,” I insist. It’s absolutely a joke. Because I am not improving.
He looks over at me with a mischievous smile. “Let’s hear that rolled R.”
“No!” I exclaim. “I will not be embarrassing myself right now.”
He rolls his tongue as he leans over to press a kiss to my neck, and I catch his face to press a kiss to his lips. The car behind us honks, and Adrián quickly straightens and pulls forward through the green light, only to turn off into a parking lot.
He removes both of our sunglasses and greedily steals back my kiss, and I don’t put up any fight. I willingly surrender to his need for connection after an emotionally draining end to his dad’s visit.
The tone of Adrián’s kiss gradually shifts, less desperate and seeking to more thoughtful and cherishing.
When he breaks away, he presses his lips to my cheek, my temple, my forehead.
“I love you, cielo. I love you more than anything. I’d be crushed without you.
I think I understand . . . I understand why my dad was the way he was after my mom died.
The darkness he fought to survive. Because if you .
. . if I lost . . .” He breaks off and wipes his eyes.
Mine burn, but I blink away the moisture.
His voice is husky when he finally finishes, “It would be dark.”
I take his face in my hands and kiss him gently. Whispering, I tell him, “The earth turned to bring us closer. I’m staying in this dream with you.” I kiss his cheek, wet with tears, before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He cups his hand behind my head, holding me tight.
We don’t hurry away from the heavy moment.
We sit in it together.
“I’m so glad you got to spend some good time with Adrian and his dad,” Danae says.
Jason and Griffin are on the other side of her, dissecting a double play that got two of our runners out.
Carson still made it to first, and Griffin is explaining to Jason how they could have thrown differently to make it a triple play.
“It was really special. He said he’ll take me to see Venezuela during the offseason. I can’t wait to see where he grew up,” I say.
Danae’s eyes narrow as she assesses me. “Planning a visit together to his home country. That’s serious.”
Shifting in my seat, I start to get defensive. But then, I realize that there’s nothing to defend—I’m entirely confident in my relationship with Adrián. Confident in how I truly feel about him and how he truly feels about me. Confident about the possibilities in our future.
“It is. Because we are. And I think it’s a healthy place for us to be,” I say.
Danae smiles. “I’m not trying to cast doubt or make you think I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to hold up my end of the boundaries you tasked me with.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “I know it’s different this time. Not that it’s easy. And not that I’m beyond ever struggling again. But it’s real.”
“And I love it,” Danae says right before the crowd around us groans at the third out of the inning.
We head into the final inning of the game down by one score, and I will every ounce of positive energy I possess across the field to Adrián. When he reaches his spot at third base, he looks our direction. I press both hands over my heart, and a split second later, he presses a hand over his.
Thirty minutes later, Adrián gets doused in Gatorade after batting in the winning runs.
I rode here with Danae and Griffin, but they left to take Jason home instead of staying to see Adrián after the game.
I stand in the waiting area, chatting with some other players’ friends and family until Adrián emerges from the locker room.
The camera crew follows behind him, still getting as much footage as they can leading up to the playoffs.
He’s intentionally kept me out of the filming so far, not wanting me to feel the pressure of airing our relationship on a worldwide streaming series.
But tonight, Adrián walks straight to me. I start to congratulate him on the game when he cuts me off with a light kiss. When he straightens, I whisper, “I love you.”
Placing his arm around my shoulders, he presses me to his side. I loop my arm around his back, and we walk out to the parking lot together. The camera crew follows initially, but Adrián turns over his shoulder to say “See you next week” in a polite dismissal.
“I hate that you’ll be gone for back-to-back away series now,” I whine as Adrián opens the car door for me. Once we’re both settled in our seats, I muse, “Maybe I should start blocking off my salon calendar when you’re gone so long so I could travel to one of your away series.”
“No,” Adrián instantly replies. He softens his tone, “I don’t want you to change your schedule for mine. Your career is just as important. I’m not gonna ask you to drop important things in your life to work around the team schedule.”
I give him a tender yet stern look as I say, “You’re not asking me to. I’m saying I might want to. Not every time. But maybe sometimes. Because I hate being away from you for so long. And I love watching you play.”
Adrián grins. “Yeah?”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Like that’s any surprise, menso. I’m pretty sure you play better when I’m watching anyway.”
“I won’t argue with that,” he says. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him as he murmurs, “Because I like you watching me.”
He kisses me slowly, and I relish every sensation. The brush of his goatee against my chin. The brush of his tongue against mine. The brush of his fingers through my hair.
When I sigh with utter contentment, Adrián breaks away. His eyes hold mine as he whispers, “Mi cielo en la tierra.”
It was too late to change my schedule for traveling to one of Adrián’s away series this time around, but five days apart and counting has me convinced it’s what I’ll do next time.
I don’t mind working some extra late evenings or weekends if it means I can shorten the duration of time we’re away from each other.
Sweeping hair into a pile while my client swipes her credit card on my phone payment system, I thank my past self for scheduling a lunch break today.
I need a minute to sit down and fuel up with some real food.
My client thanks me again, and I clean up the space so it’s ready to go when I come back in an hour and a half.
My phone rings as I’m walking to a Mediterranean restaurant a few doors down, and I’m surprised to see Central Middle School as the contact name.
“Hello?” I answer, slowing my pace.
“Hello, is this Samantha West?”
“Yes, it is,” I reply.
“This is Ms. Clark, one of the school counselors at Central Middle School. I’ve got Jason in the office with me, and he requested I give you a call,” she says.
I halt. “Is everything okay?”
“Things are all right, but Jason’s having a little bit of a hard time this morning. A teacher encouraged him to come to my office, but he’s not saying much,” she explains. “I asked about calling his parents, but he said he’d like to talk with you. Do you have a few minutes to chat with him?”
“Yes,” I say, turning around and jogging to my car. “I can be there at the school in about ten minutes instead of talking on the phone. Can he hang out until then?”
“Sure, that will be fine,” Ms. Clark says. “I’ll tell the front office staff to send you my way.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say, getting into my car.
Nine minutes later, I pull into the school parking lot. The front office staff scan my ID to give me a visitor badge, and one leads me through the office to the counselor’s room. Ms. Clark is waiting outside the door, extending her hand to shake mine.
“Nice to meet you, Samantha,” she says. “Because you’re one of Jason’s approved emergency contacts, I felt okay honoring his request to call you. However, I do need to call his mom as well. I’m going to do that while you’re talking with him.”
“Absolutely. Sounds good,” I agree, and she opens the door for me.
Jason is sitting in a chair, looking a lot more like the nine-year-old boy I first met than the eleven-year-old preteen of late. He looks up when I come in, and I recognize the conflict in his eyes. Emotions warring in his thoughts, even though I don’t know the exact feelings yet.
“Hey, my guy,” I say quietly as I take the other chair next to him. “What’s going on?”
“Ms. Clark wanted to call my parents, but I didn’t want them to feel bad. I knew you would understand, though, and not get upset with me,” Jason says.