6. La Lotería
LA LOTERíA
LEO
Ididn’t want to leave.
As the evening progressed, I found myself increasingly enchanted by the cozy world Estrella had created in this modest apartment.
We ordered pizza, the children’s excited request, and ate at the small kitchen table, Luz and Pedro chattering away in a charming mix of English and Spanish, with interestingly, a touch of French every once in a while.
Estrella watched them with a mother’s pride and occasional gentle corrections to their English pronunciation.
“You’re very good with them,” she commented as I helped Pedro cut his pizza into manageable bites.
I smiled, feeling oddly at home in this domestic scene. “I have nieces and nephews. I don’t see them as often as I’d like, but when I do, it’s always chaos and pizza and sticky fingers.”
“Do you miss them? Your family in Spain?” she asked.
“They aren’t in Spain. I was recruited there a good ten years ago. But I grew up in Oaxaca.” I’d already hidden too much from her and I didn’t want to do that anymore. “I miss them more now, with my future so uncertain.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Uncertain? I thought you were a super, really, really big star with... who was it again? Real Madrid?”
She really didn’t follow football. “Real León FC, who are also out of Madrid.” I hesitated, aware of the children listening. “But, it’s complicated.”
She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I know something about complicated futures.”
After dinner, we moved to the living room where Estrella produced a worn deck of cards. “La Lotería?” she suggested.
I chuckled and nodded. “I haven’t played it since I was Luz’s age.”
The game was lively, with much laughter and good-natured accusations of cheating, particularly when Estrella called “?Lotería!” to win four times in a row.
In these unguarded moments, was where I was losing my heart to her. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the tender way she corrected Pedro when he forgot to say “?Lotería!” the competitive gleam in her eye when she was winning.
This was a different Estrella from the composed woman I had met at the library or the cautious one who had greeted me at her door. This was Estrella the mother, Estrella at home, Estrella at her most authentic.
I was captivated.
As the evening wore on, the children began to show signs of tiredness. Pedro climbed into my lap during the final round, his small body warm and trusting against mine. Luz’s eyelids drooped, though she stubbornly insisted she wasn’t sleepy.
“Time for bed, mis amores,” Estrella announced, gathering the cards. “Say goodnight to Leo.”
“But Mami,” Luz protested, “he didn’t finish telling us about the time he scored the winning goal in the World Cup.”
“Which you can hear another time,” Estrella said firmly. “Bed now.”
“Will you come back?” Pedro asked, his small hand gripping my shirt as Estrella lifted him from my lap.
I glanced at Estrella, not wanting to make promises I couldn’t keep. “If your mother says it’s okay,” I answered carefully.
“Please, Mami?” Luz pleaded. “He can come for dinner again and tell us more football stories.”
Estrella’s expression was a complex mix of emotions. I saw caution, tenderness, and something else I couldn’t quite identify. “We’ll see,” she said, the universal parent’s non-answer. “Now, bedtime. Give Leo a proper goodnight.”
To my surprise, both children hugged me before allowing their mother to usher them toward their bedroom. Pedro’s small arms around my neck and Luz’s whispered “Goodnight, Leo” left me with an unexpected lump in my throat.
While Estrella put the children to bed, I tidied up the pizza boxes and washed the few dishes in the sink. It felt natural, this simple domesticity, as if I had been doing it for years rather than hours.
When Estrella returned, she seemed surprised to find the kitchen clean. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.
“I wanted to,” I replied, drying my hands on a kitchen towel. “It’s the least I could do after inviting myself over and eating your food.”
“The children ordered the pizza,” she reminded me with a smile. “And you paid.” Her expression grew more serious. “They like you.”
“I like them too,” I said honestly. “They’re amazing kids, Stella. You’ve done a wonderful job with them.”
She looked away, but not before I caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
“It hasn’t been easy,” she said softly. “Being both mother and father, making all the decisions, bearing all the responsibility... sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, bringing them to a new country, starting over again. ”
I moved closer, instinctively wanting to comfort her. “From what I can see, they’re happy, well-adjusted, and clearly adore their mother. I’d say you’re doing something right.”
She met my gaze, vulnerability plain in her face. “Thank you for saying that. It... means a lot.”
We stood there in her small kitchen, the distance between us charged with unspoken feelings. I wanted to kiss her—had been wanting to since our coffee after the conversation club—but I also didn’t want to rush her, to be just another man who took without considering the complexities of her life.
“I should go,” I said reluctantly. “It’s getting late, and you probably have an early day tomorrow.”
She nodded, though I thought I detected disappointment in her eyes. “Yes, I have a 6 AM call time. Hollywood,” she added with a wry smile, “is not kind to mothers who need to get their children to school.”
I gathered my jacket and backpack, and she walked me to the door. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” I said. “I haven’t had that much fun in... well, longer than I can remember.”
“Even with my dramatic La Lotería playing?” she teased.
“Especially with your dramatic La Lotería playing,” I laughed. “I imagine you do everything with that same passion.”
Her smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “Leo... what are we doing here?”
The directness of her question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“This,” she gestured between us. “You, a famous footballer, spending your evening playing La Lotería with a struggling actress and her children. What are you looking for?”
I considered her question carefully, knowing my answer mattered.
“I’m not looking for anything beyond what we’re already doing—getting to know each other, enjoying each other’s company.
I like you, Estrella. I like your children.
I like how I feel when I’m with you—like I’m just Leo, not ‘The Lion’ or whatever other nickname the sports media has given me this season. ”
She studied me, as if trying to read the truth behind my words. “Men have made promises to me before,” she said quietly. “Big promises that sounded beautiful but turned out to be empty.”
“I’m not making promises,” I assured her. “Just stating facts. I like you. I’d like to see you again—all of you. The rest... we can figure out as we go.”
Something in her expression softened. “I like you too,” she admitted, the words seeming to surprise her as much as they delighted me. “And the children clearly adore you already. But my life is complicated, Leo. I have responsibilities, priorities. My children come first—always.”
“As they should,” I said firmly. “I wouldn’t respect you if it were any other way.”
She smiled then, a genuine smile that lit up her entire face. “In that case... perhaps you’d like to come to the beach with us on Sunday? The children have been begging to go, and it might be nice to have another adult along.”
“I’d love that,” I said, unable to contain my grin. “What time should I pick you up?”
We made plans for Sunday, and then, before I could overthink it, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Estrella.”
Her hand came up to touch the spot where my lips had been, her eyes wide. “Goodnight, Leo.”
As I walked to my car, I felt lighter than I had in years, as if some burden I hadn’t even been aware of carrying had been lifted from my shoulders.
In Estrella and her children, I had found something I didn’t know I was looking for—a sense of belonging, of rightness, that had been missing from my carefully constructed life.
And as I drove home through the quiet streets of Los Angeles, I found myself hoping that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.