“How was your facial, by the way?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Don't think I don't see what you're doing,” Naila says, but mercifully lets it drop. “It was amazing. My skin hasn't been this soft since I came out of the womb. Feel.”
She grabs my hand and presses it to her cheek, which is admittedly baby-smooth.
“Damn, that's impressive.”
“Right? Maybe I should get one of those sugar daddies after all.”
I laugh, unlocking my car with the key fob. “I thought you were done with that idea after the Tinder disaster.”
“Listen, one sixty-year-old sending me pictures of his yacht and his dick in the same message is not enough to deter me from the lifestyle I deserve,” she says, sliding into the passenger seat. “Besides, not all of us can bag ourselves a hot hockey daddy.”
“He's not—” I start automatically, then catch myself. “Okay, but that's not why I'm with him.”
“Fine, he's not just a hot hockey coach,” Naila concedes.
“Actually, um, he wants to go all in,” I say, suddenly feeling defensive. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, not starting the car yet.
Naila turns to me, eyebrows shooting up. “What do you mean 'all in'?”
I take a deep breath. “Marriage. Kids. The whole fucking package.”
“Holy shit,” Naila whispers, her mouth dropping open. “Like, he actually said that? Not just pillow talk?”
“He said it during, but then again after,” I admit, feeling my face heat up. “He wants to put a ring on my finger and babies in me. His exact words were something like 'I want to change your last name' and 'I want to see you round with my child.'”
“Fuck me sideways,” Naila breathes. “That's intense. What did you say?”
“I didn't really say anything. I just…came.” I cover my face with my hands. “And then we showered and went to sleep, and the next morning he was looking at me like I hung the fucking moon, and I just…I don't know what to do.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and suddenly tears are spilling down my cheeks.
“Whoa, hey,” Naila says, reaching across to touch my arm. “What's going on? I thought you loved him?”
“I do,” I sob, the tears coming faster now. “I fucking love him so much it scares me. But how am I supposed to do all that without my family? My dad won't even look at me, Naila. My dad, who's been my hero my whole life, acts like I don't exist.”
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turnwhite. “And it's not just him. My cousins are taking sides. My uncle Jorge said I 'betrayed the family name.' How am I supposed to get married without my dad walking me down the aisle? How am I supposed to have kids who'll never know their grandfather?”
Naila unbuckles her seatbelt and leans over the console to pull me into an awkward hug. “Listen to me. It's just your dad being stubborn, not your whole family. Your mom and abuela are on your side, right?”
I nod against her shoulder, my tears soaking into her jacket.
“And it's only been a few days. He'll come around, Henny.”
“You don't know him like I do,” I say, pulling back to wipe my eyes. “He can hold a grudge for fucking decades. He and Beckham have hated each other since before I was born.”
“Yeah, but this is different. You're his daughter, not some hockey rival.”
“I don't know if that makes it better or worse in his eyes,” I say bitterly.
Naila pulls back, her expression serious. “Hennessy, you need to stop this shit right now,” Naila says, grabbing my shoulders. “You're a grown-ass woman, not some teenager who needs daddy's permission to date.”
I blink at her through my tears. “But?—”
“No buts. You're twenty-three. You pay your own bills. You make your own fucking choices.” She gives me a little shake. “And you chose a man who worships the ground you walk on, who wants to give you everything.”
“It's not that simple?—”
