“Or…” Luca’s lips twitch, a small smiling softening his words. “Because of me?”
I groan, lifting a hand and rubbing along my forehead. “How do you know me so well? See me so clearly? When no one else does?”
“I understand you, Carla, because I’ve been you. I was you, before Mamma passed away. Losing her changed my perspective on things. But I understand your hunger, your drive. Hell, I applaud it. I don’t want to keep you from the things that make you happy.”
“I don’t want to sacrifice this opportunity, to make a club or the national team.”
“I don’t want you too, either.”
“And I don’t know how to be all in on a relationship. What if I mess this up?” I gesture between us. “What if I can’t give you more and I hurt you?”
He tilts his head, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Is that why you keep things surface level? Why you’ve never been in a serious relationship before?”
“Partly.”
“And the other part?”
I suck in a breath. This is it. If I utter the next words, I’m willingly crossing a line with Luca. One I can’t turn back from; one I don’t want to turn back from, even though I’m petrified. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”
At my confession, Luca leans closer. He hunches forward, dropping his legs to each side of the lounger so he can pull me in between them. When he wraps his arms around me, my body unwinds, all tension seeping away, fears dashing.
“It’s not one-sided, Carla. The things I feel for you…” He trails off, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I turn in his embrace so I can read his eyes, his expressions.
“I proposed once.”
I gasp, my eyes widening. He proposed marriage…
My reaction causes a smile to flicker over Luca’s lips. “It was eight years ago. Chiara and I were together for years?—”
“I remember Chiara.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I was jealous of her. I remember when she would come to your games, wear your number…Ale always spoke highly of her. Said you were lucky to date a woman who didn’t give you shit all the time. She was supportive, accommodating…”
“And that was the problem. Accommodating isn’t a good thing in a relationship. Maybe at certain times, when one person is going through things and the other lends extra support. But not as a default setting. Accommodation breeds resentment. I didn’t see it with Chiara. She was always so understanding and agreeable that when she turned down my proposal, I was shocked. Never in a million years did I think she’d say no.”
“Why did she?” I ask, my heart hammering. My palms feel slick, my stomach nervous. A flicker of indignation rolls through me on Luca’s behalf but a much larger part of me feels…relieved, confused, uncertain? I can’t nail down my emotional response and I can’t look away from Luca, either.
“Because she didn’t want to come second place in her marriage. And she was right, Carla. I never put her first. Fútbol came first, Mamma came first, Bianca, Alejandro and Andrés, preparations for camp…everything came before Chiara. She was right to turn me down.”
I frown, staring up at him. “But she broke your heart.”
“It needed to be broken. I needed to have that experience to understand that when you make a future with someone, when you ask a woman to be your wife, her goals, dreams, ambitions, become yours.” He brushes my hair away from my face. “I’m rooting for you, cucciola, always. But I don’t want to let myself hope, or fall, if you’re only interested in keeping it casual. You have to be open to something deeper, something real and messy and meaningful, if we’re going to take this further. Because you could break me, Carla. And I’d willingly risk it for a real chance, but not for a fling.”
Holy shit. His words, the intention behind them, the seriousness in his gaze, his trust in me…it’s too much. All of it is too much at once.
I pull in a breath, my heart rate loud in my temples. “Luca,” my voice cracks.
He continues to stare at me, his fingers stroking my hair. “Think about it.”
“What if I want that? Everything you said? But I don’t know how to do it?” I whisper the words, ashamed at my inexperience and hating how vulnerable I feel. Like I could crack open and bleed out insecurities right here on the lounger.
“We can figure it out together. We just have to be honest with each other. Communicate. And try.” Luca’s eyes blaze as they hold mine. Hope and desire searing in their intensity.
I reach for his shoulders, using them as leverage to pull myself closer. He lowers his head but doesn’t completely close the gap between us. He’s waiting for me. For my commitment, for my certainty.
