“I’m fine, Luca. I’ll be on my feet in no time.”
“I know you will. But things are going to change.” I sit down in the bedside chair and outline exactly how I’m going to help him get on his feet.
Oh, he protests but when I threaten to move him into my place, he pipes down. Álvaro has a handful of cats that he adores and he would never want to force them to relocate.
“I care about you.” I switch to English, knowing Álvaro would hate my messy, emotional display. I grip his hand.
He stares at me and for a beat, I know he senses how desperate I feel. How much I wish I could do more to help him. How much I wish he would accept my offers of support.
His eyes narrow and I swear.
“Don’t worry; I’ll send you the bill,” I tack on.
And then, he laughs. And I know he really will be fine.
9
Carla
Luca
I can’t make training tonight. Make sure you still get a workout in.
Carla
Bossy much?
Luca
Only when I have to be.
Carla
I’ll go for a run.
Luca
Good.
Be careful.
Carla
“Carla,” the boys’ tennis coach, a man named Enrique, pops his head into my office door. He glances at his watch. “Are you coming to the meeting? It starts in two minutes.”
I straighten behind my desk, my back going rigid. “What meeting?”
Enrique tilts his head, studying me. “The athletic department’s monthly meeting. Sergio said he’d tell you.”
Sergio Pérez is the boys’ fútbol coach and has been a pebble in my shoe since the moment I met him. He’s an insecure, entitled man who is at least a decade older than me. Since I signed with Santa Isabel, Sergio’s been trying to undermine me and my leadership every chance he gets.
“Of course,” I reply, grabbing a notebook. “It must have slipped his mind.”
Enrique rolls his lips together but doesn’t reply. He waits for me and we fall into step together, walking down the long corridor to the meeting room.
“Word of advice?” Enrique asks, his Spanish clipped and quiet.
I glance up at him.
