I clink my glass against hers. “I’m happy you came, Carla.”
She takes a sip of her wine. “Me too. Really happy.”
23
Carla
“You even have a pool?” I gape, pointing toward the built-in, still-covered-for-the-season swimming pool surrounded by sun loungers and closed umbrellas. “Why do you stay in Valencia?”
Luca chuckles, kicked back on a sun lounger. He’s clad in sweatpants and a long-sleeved henley, his feet bare, his hair a riot of curls.
The temperature has dipped and the breeze has kicked up as the sun sets, but the cool, crisp air feels fresh. Invigorating.
I curl my fingers into the thick scarf I wound around my neck before venturing outside. I changed too, donning loose, baggy jeans, and a lightweight knit sweater. At the last moment, I added a scarf for extra warmth, and as I perch on the end of Luca’s lounge chair, I’m glad I did.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, bending one arm behind his head as he looks at me. “The chef left a whole smorgasbord of meals for us to try.”
“That sounds delicious. I’m getting hungry for sure.” I tug one foot up onto the chair, turning my body toward Luca. “You know, I get that we’re here for work, but this is the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe even since before I lost my spot in Chicago.”
Luca purses his lips thoughtfully. “That’s a long time to be carrying worries.”
“I don’t know if I was even aware of it. It’s just now that I’m here…” I look around at the gorgeous backyard. The impeccable landscaping is complete with lighting and, as if on cue, they flicker on. “I feel at ease and the difference is shocking.”
“I love it here,” Luca agrees. “I wish I came out more, but it’s tough during the season.”
“Even more so on international competition years.”
“Exactly,” Luca agrees. “If I’m called up to the national team, I usually miss the first week of camp…” He shrugs.
“You know, a lot of players don’t try to host annual camps while they’re actively playing.” I grin. “You’re such an overachiever.”
He barks out a laugh. “Bianca used to tell me that too. But I love the camp. I love coming home and having a real reason to be here; one where it feels like I’m contributing. Helping to shape the next generation of players is important to me. I want to pay it forward.”
My brows pull together as I try to decipher his words.
He sits up straighter in the lounger. “My father passed when I was twelve. I had just started at the academy and suddenly, I didn’t have my dad. No family nearby, none of the kids I had come up through the ranks with. If it wasn’t for Coach Jorge, Álvaro, Ale and Andrés, your father…” Luca trails off, shaking his head. His eyes take on a gleam that holds me captive. I twist my hands together in my lap, forcing myself to remain quiet and wait for him to find his words. “I had a lot of people invest their time, energy, and guidance in me. I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am without them. If I can help be that, or part of that, for someone else…well, that’s just as an important legacy for me. Maybe even more so than winning the Copa or breaking a record.”
I shift slightly, placing a hand on his leg, just above his knee. “I get that, Luca. Truly. You see your position in the fútbol world as so much bigger than a player’s normal trajectory.”
“So do you, or you wouldn’t be championing girls in sports the way you are, the way you have been.”
“It’s different for my papá and Ale. They breathe fútbol for the sake of playing. Winning.”
“We all have different roles to play.”
“True. But I want to play again too. I love my girls and coaching. Being part of Santa Isabel’s team gave me a confidence boost, and I needed it.” I bite my bottom lip, choosing my words carefully.
“But it’s not enough?” Luca murmurs, his voice quiet.
I shake my head. “I miss being part of my team. I miss being out on the field, with the fans in the stands. I miss…all of it. And I want another shot.”
“Then take it. It’s still possible for you.”
“I’m worried I’m getting distracted. Sidetracked.”
“Because of the coaching?”
“Partly.”
