Epilogue
SERENA
I sat on the portable chair and buried my face in my hands.
I was not a sports girl growing up—my mom didn’t bother signing me up, and I had no interest anyway. But if Harper wanted to try something, I’d find a way to make it happen.
Soccer was the sport everyone in the house watched, and what Harper loved.
Now, every Saturday morning, I was in the car driving to a game while Enzo gave her a pep talk in the car.
The team was made up of all girls, each from a family connected to Enzo’s underworld.
Enzo had described it as a brotherhood, a family, and I didn’t truly believe it until I watched those men come together to cheer on their daughters.
“Where’s the card, ref?” Rafael screamed from the sidelines. The ref, who couldn’t be older than twenty-three, turned and glared at him.
I stayed silent, remembering the last time I reminded Rafael that this was a child’s soccer game and they hand out cards like professionals. He scoffed, tried to pressure the refs at halftime, and promptly got himself kicked out.
“You’re going to get kicked out,” I said, picking my head up. “Again.”
Rafael was kicked out so often that it was easier to count how many games he made it to the end of.
He looked down at me, an incredulous look on his face. “That was an illegal tackle.”
“I’d hardly call the girl throwing herself on the ground and accidentally tripping someone a tackle.”
He shook his head. “It is a tactic. A dirty one.”
I shook my head, glanced around, and found Enzo standing behind the bench, his arms crossed like he was a bouncer at a club and not watching a game of five- and six-year-olds play soccer.
He was in his custom-made jersey, the one that matched the team, as was Rafael.
Donovan and Angelo stood on the sidelines, each with a clipboard, yelling commands.
It wasn’t that I thought they would do a bad job coaching, but they were coaching a bunch of five- and six-year-old girls. Expectations had to be managed.
Turns out, Harper was not only a natural with a soccer ball, having more foot-eye coordination in her pinky than I had in my entire body.
Donovan and Angelo took the group of girls and turned them into a lean, mean, winning team. They were organized, ran actual plays, and dribbled and passed with impressive accuracy.
Best of all, they were patient. They took their time with each girl, learning their strengths and weaknesses, and coaching them up. The smile on those girls' faces was almost as exhilarating as watching them win every Sunday.
Harper had become attached to Donovan and Angelo, and at some point, they had moved into our house. It was slow, but it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Go!” I cheered from my seat as Harper dribbled the ball down the field, a determined look on her face.
I glanced over to Enzo, who was standing, arms up, ready to cheer like he knew she would make it in.
She passed it to a teammate and ran between two girls who were on defense. The ball went back to her. She pulled her leg back and swung, her foot connecting with the ball as powerfully as she could.
It sailed in the air, up and into the top right corner of the net.
Our side went wild.
The ref blew the whistle, ending the game.
We won, 6-0. I pulled out my phone and texted Minnie and Charles Senior; they were at a friend’s funeral and couldn’t make it. Out of ten games, this was the first one they’d missed.
The game was livestreamed, but I still texted Minnie with a play-by-play every ten minutes. Minnie, however, lived for the sideline drama. She found it endlessly amusing that our crowd was ninety-nine percent men, the mothers off doing whatever they wanted for the morning.
It had been nearly a year since we all saw Charles in that basement. There had been a small ceremony for him a few months later for immediate family only.
I had feared it would cause a rift, but instead it turned Minnie and Charles Senior—who had been a passively involved grandparent—into grandparents of the year.
“Mommy!” Harper screamed from atop Enzo’s shoulders, waving at me.
Enzo turned, flashing me one of his rare smiles, and opened his arms. I walked to them, Enzo wrapping me up, Harper bending over on his shoulders to hug me too.
I couldn’t help but wonder how I got so lucky.