“That was a tremendous speech,” I say, splaying my hand in the center of her back. “Sincere and thoughtful.” My other hand lifts to her head, brushing her hair away from her forehead.
And then, she cracks. Melting into me, Carla García, my best mate’s baby sister, sobs.
I hold her closer and let her tears run their course.
When Ale asked me to pass by tonight’s gala in Chicago, my first instinct was to refuse. I was in New York City with my sister, Bianca, to help her settle in for her new internship.
I assumed someone from the García family would show up for the gala, knowing that they attend as many of Carla’s events as possible. But Alejandro caught me off guard when he shared that he and his wife, Marlowe, are expecting. It’s still early days, so they haven’t shared the news outside of immediate family. Due to Marlowe’s intense morning sickness and Valentina coming down with the flu, there were multiple last-minute change of plans.
The last thing I’d want is for Carla to say goodbye to her life in Chicago with no family support. And that’s how I’ve always thought of her—she’s family. So, I booked a flight to Chicago and used Valentina’s ticket to enter the gala.
But when Carla walked across that stage, my breath caught in my throat. I haven’t seen her in years and it hit me like a sucker punch. The girl I used to run fútbol drills with, the pain in the ass who once crashed my date with a lingerie model, the woman who wrote me a heartfelt letter that brought tears to my eyes when Mamma passed, is all grown up now. And she’s a fucking stunner.
The realization caught me off guard and I resented the hell out of it. I watched her speech, unable to fully breathe. And when she walked off that stage, my body sprung into action. I caught her slipping around the end of a corridor and even though I knew she was seeking out a place to hide, I followed her anyway.
“I’m here, Carla,” I say soothingly, wanting her to know that she has someone in her corner. Someone from the outside who understands that saying her final goodbye is breaking her heart.
Her fingers grip at the fabric of my suit and she sucks in a shaky breath.
“Why are you here, Luca?” she asks without looking at me.
“Your brother called me.”
She’s quiet for a heartbeat. Then, a hiccup, a snort, and, “Of course he did.”
“He didn’t want you to face this alone.”
“Ale can be thoughtful like that,” she muses. But there’s something in her tone I can’t place.
Shuffling back a step, I put some distance between us so I can tuck my finger beneath her chin and lift her face to mine. I frown at the pain blazing in her eyes. “Cucciola,” I mutter the pet name I gave her years ago. Little puppy.
She turns her head, averting her gaze. “I’m fine. Honest.”
“No, you’re not. But you will be.”
She snorts, the sound defeated. Her eyes whip back to mine, shaded with grief and a spark of anger. “Will I?”
“Sí,” I say softly. “Yes. And I will help you any way I can. I promise.”
Her eyes close and more tears track over her cheeks. “Can you—can you just get me out of here? Without anyone seeing? I don’t want…” She trails off but I know what she’s asking.
“Of course.” I slip out of my suit jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. “There’s always a back entrance in places like this. We’ll slip out and go for some deep-dish pizza.”
She simultaneously smiles and sobs and I tuck her under my arm, turning us toward the doorway.
“I can’t go out looking like this.” She points to her face. “Besides, I left my purse at the table and checked my coat.”
“We’ll get delivery,” I amend. “And I’ll gather your things.”
Carla rests her head on my shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone. About…this. About me falling apart.” There’s an edge to her voice that cuts through me.
“I won’t,” I promise. “Your secrets are safe with me, cucciola.”
She pulls back to glare at me and I smirk.
“I’m not a little puppy,” she mutters.
I don’t bother responding. It’s an affectionate nickname. The one I called her when she would tussle with the boys on the soccer pitch and stomp off with bloody knees and scraped shins.
