Nanners stretches and, one-handed, I move her from my shoulder to my lap. “Oh, but I am.” Does she believe me insincere? “I thought about refereeing—like you. We could work together, but I don’t think that would be a good fit. It’s good work, don’t get me wrong. You’re very much in shape and knowledgeable?—"
“I don’t need you telling me how knowledgeable I am, Lucca. I know how knowledgeable I am. I need you to stop acting crazy.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”
She huffs. “Who else have you broached this insanity to?”
“Just the guys—Roman, Zev, Callum. Why does no one believe I’m earnest?”
“Because,” she says, her cheeks turning red, “giving up soccer to date me iscrazy.”
“Except that it’s not,” I say, wishing we were having this conversation in person. I run a hand over Nanners. She’s good company—when she isn’t being a wild animal—but my apartment still feels empty. I need Maggie here. Wyatt, too.
“Yes, it is.” Her voice is shrill and high.
I tug on one ear. “Ouch. Could you bring it down a decibel?”
She stands—I think she’s in her bedroom—and begins to pace. “Lucca, we are not?—”
“But we are,” I say, my words gentle.
“And you cannot?—”
“Except I can.” I give one small shrug. I’ve got an answer for all of her scenarios.
And school—school is the answer. I can figure out what I might like to do and be with Maggie. Sure, I’ll miss the game and the guys. Painfully so, if I’m being honest, but I can’t play forever, and this woman is worth it. Sheisforever. I feel it in every fiber of my body.
“Soccer is your life,” she says. “You live, eat, breathe this game. You made it to the pros. People don’t just give up the pros, Lucca!”
I let her words settle in the air before I remind her, “Some people do.”
She blinks, and her face gets very near the camera. “Lucca Cruz. If you weren’t forty minutes away?—”
“I wish I weren’t. I wish you lived in this apartment with me and Nanners.”
“Lucca!” she cries, her head shaking. “You don’t even know what you’re saying. People don’t make these kinds of decisions on a whim, because of a few kisses?—”
“Delicious kisses. Isn’t that what you called them the other night? And this isn’t because of a kiss. Or even a hundred. This is because of how I feel when I’m with you. As well as how I feel when I’m not with you. It’s terrible, by the way. It’s also about the way you feel about me, Maggie Pie. I need you in my life. And I think you need me, too.”
She stares at me. But she doesn’t say a word. Maybe she can’t. Maybe for once, she’s run out of ways to object to me.
“You gave up soccer for Wyatt,” I say. “Why can’t I give it up for you?”
Maggie sniffs. “That’s different, and you know it. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Only you did. You could have stayed and played. You’d be on the women’s U.S. National Team today. That’s what we both know. You would be more successful than me. We both know that, too.”
“It’s different,” she says again, but this time her voice is small, her protest weak.
“You have already sacrificed so much for your family. Isn’t it time someone sacrificed for you?” I feel in my gut that Vovó would love this declaration. She would be behind it one hundred percent.
“Lucca, you’re kind. This might be the grandest, sweetest gesture any person has ever even thought of making for me. But no. You don’t change your life because you like someone.”
“I more than like you.” And again, the words feel right. “And I think you know that, too.”
Forty-Five
“Wyatt, you sit by Grandpa,”I say, ushering my nephew to where Dad is perched in his recliner chair. Wyatt takes a seat on the floor next to him. Mom and Lindy are on the couch.
