Page 66 of Last Line of Defense

You bet I do. I love her with such a brutal, wild, unfamiliar intensity that sometimes it scares even me. I love her when she stands up to me, when we argue over some silly tactical detail, when her damn arrogance drives me up the wall, and, above all, when she drives me crazy with just one of her smiles. I love her even in those moments when everything she stirs up inside me fills me with excruciating panic.

“I love her like I’ve never loved anyone in my whole life.”

“Then stop looking like you’re about to die,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “You deserve to be happy. And if she makes you happy, that’s wonderful.”

I run a hand through my hair, which is still a little damp from walking in the rain.

“Yeah, but it’s not that idyllic or that simple.”

“Nothing is simple in this life,” he agrees, shrugging. “But sometimes you have to have some guts, be brave, and take a chance on love, even if you feel like you’re going to get burned in the process.”

I start to reply, but at that very moment, Charlotte crosses the threshold, shaking the raindrops off her umbrella before closing it. She’s wearing a dark coat, and her hair is much shorter than I remember. Elegant, sophisticated, impeccable. As always. My body goes rigid, and every muscle tenses up.

Dani follows the direction of my gaze and mutters an almost inaudible “shit” under his breath. I haven’t run into her in months. But it takes just a millisecond for the weight of the past to come crashing down on me. Charlotte turns, sees me, and freezes completely for a few moments, processing the sight. Immediately afterward, she regains her composure and walks toward our table.

I feel the tension in my jaw as the pressure builds.

“Hi, Clara,” she greets me with that calm, measured, controlled voice that’s burned into my brain.

“Charlotte,” I reply, making a titanic effort to keep my tone as neutral and mature as possible.

She gives Dani a brief nod before fixing her gaze on me again.

“I really wasn’t expecting to run into you on this side of town.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re in New York—the city’s small, and we all end up hanging out in the same places,” I reply, forcing a half smile that feels uncomfortable to hold.

A very subtle shadow, resembling a wry smile, flits across her lips. Dani, who’s always had a chronic aversion to awkward silences and dramas from the past, clears his throat loudly as he stands up.

“Um… I’m going to head over to the counter to order another coffee and a pastry—my stomach’s growling. I’ll leave you two to it for a moment.”

And he vanishes from the scene with commendable discretion, leaving me alone to face the danger. Charlotte leans her umbrella against the side of the table and sits down elegantly on the edge of the chair my friend has just vacated.

“I heard the news about your resignation from Ravenhill FC,” she blurts out point-blank, without any polite preamble.

I feel a most unpleasant twinge just below my ribs.

“Well, I see news travels fast,” I reply, crossing my arms.

“It travels twice as fast when a player of Alicia Puertas’s caliber is involved.”

When I hear the name “Alicia” come out of her mouth, I snap my head up and fix her with a piercing stare. Charlotte picks up on the gesture immediately, of course. She’s always had an astonishing ability to read my mind.

“So it’s true what the gossipmongers say,” she adds in a strangely soft, almost pensive tone. “You’re with her.”

Tension runs down my spine. For a couple of seconds, the idea of denying everything crosses my mind, but I realize that at this point, it no longer makes any sense to keep playing hide-and-seek.

“How did you find out?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, visibly surprised by my ignorance.

“Are you telling me you haven’t seen the interview that was published a few hours ago? By now, Clara, everyone in this country knows.”

My heart does a tremendous somersault in my chest, one that leaves me breathless.

“What interview? What are you talking about, Charlotte?”

For the first time since she walked through the door, a genuine emotion, unfiltered by pretense, crosses my ex’s face: utter astonishment.