I let myself focus on them. On her. Just for a second.
And then I got back to work.
We didn’t win.
We got close. Close enough to taste it. We’d made it this far, further than anyone had expected.
After the whistle, I stood for a moment in the middle of the pitch, sweat cooling on my skin. I’d already shaken hands. Already congratulated the other team. Now I exchanged jerseys with one of their strikers—he clapped my shoulder because we both knew how hard this was.
I looked up at the stands.
She was there. Cheering for me like we’d won. Like I’d already won.
And I had.
Because she was mine.
THE VILLA WAS QUIETonce the others left.
No more Chloe and Emma’s giggles echoing off the marble. No Simon explaining soccer to Nicole and insisting she grasp the concept of offside. No Walter grumping under his breath that Greece was beautiful, but California lacked nothing.
Now it was only the hush of the sea and the rustle of linen curtains in the late afternoon breeze.
Now it was just us.
Owen was out on the terrace, forearms resting on the railings, his shoulders under the tee relaxed after weeks ofpreparations and training and matches. The man I loved was the picture of tranquility now that the World Cup was over and he’d gotten to watch the final with all of us in the stadium.
We had a few days alone here before flying back. And the quiet around us let something in me settle, something that hadn’t fully taken root until now.
All of this was real. Him. Me. Us.
This was ours.
In one of his team tees, I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, letting myself take him in.
“I liked you in red,” I said softly. Even though our national team had lost, the sight of him on the pitch in that color was carved on my heart.
He glanced back at me, smiling. “I like you in nothing.”
“Careful,” I muttered, but I was already walking toward him, already smiling.
We watched the sea for a minute, like we’d done so many times before, except now it felt like a full circle instead of a pause. He reached for my hand, and I let our fingers tangle.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, dragging his free hand through his hair, gaze on the water.
“Anything.”
“Did I scare you out in the cove?”
“Why do you think that?”
He turned to face me. And there it was. The secret smile. “Why are you answering a question with a question?”
“Why do you think?”
Owen chuckled and pulled me in against his side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“I’ll need an answer at some point,” he said after a beat.
