“Missed you. Period,” she mumbles before adding more pressure to our kiss.
I lift my hand, the one attached to the IV, to cup her cheek and bring her closer. Now that she’s here, I don’t want even an inch of space to separate us.
“Oh, look, they made up,” Ale remarks dryly.
Carla turns and we both look up to find him and Andrés in the doorway.
“Like we didn’t see that coming,” Andrés replies, grinning. “It’s about time.”
Carla laces her fingers with mine and squeezes. I squeeze back.
“What did Coach say?” I ask my friends.
“He’s relieved you’re okay,” Andrés replies.
“But you still have a fine to settle,” Ale adds before clapping his hands. “Vale. Let’s get you home.”
I kiss the back of Carla’s hand and breathe a sigh of relief.
Home. With my cucciola.
I’m more than lucky. I’m grateful.
33
Carla
I spend a week living with Luca, changing his dressings and caring for him. I cook his favorite foods—with Bianca offering culinary tips to guide me. I spend my nights curled into his side, watching old movies, before tucking him into bed. In short, I play the best version of a caretaker that I know how and still, I imagine it pales in comparison to Luca’s expert abilities.
But I savor my time with him, enjoying each coffee, kiss, and conversation we share. I don’t think about fútbol much, which surprises me.
Clearly, the accident shifted my perspective. Knowing how close I was to losing Luca, entirely, made me realize I don’t want to spend a second of my life not being his. I love him, and what we share is meaningful and real. It’s not something to gamble with. Once I realized that, you better believe I doubled down.
At the end of the first week, Luca’s healing. His road rash is starting to scab over on his legs, his ribs are improving, and his shoulder is on the mend.
We’re about to watch a movie when Luca rolls his head to look at me. “It’s been a week.”
“I know but not even you have super healing abilities, Luca.”
He chuckles. “I mean, I’m okay. You know I’m okay.”
“And?”
“I don’t want you miss your shot with Alicante Atléticas. See if you can trial for a week. Go and show them what you got. Please.”
“Luca, I don’t care about fútbol as much as I care about you.”
He reaches for my hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kisses the center of my palm. “I know. You’ve proved it to me. A thousand times over. Please, Carla, I don’t want this on my conscience. I want you to go and play your heart out and then come to Italy with me to run the best summer camp in Europe.”
“Best in Europe?”
“Well, one day it will be.”
“One day,” I agree. “Are you sure?”
“It’s only seven days. I’m positive. And Álvaro offered to substitute in for you. Plus, Ale and Andrés are nearby. Abuela promised to introduce me to her favorite television show. Go.”
I stare at him for a long minute. “You know her favorite television show is Las Islas de las Tentaciones, right? Are you ready for that?”
