by Jewel Allen
What did it mean that Diego didn’t turn me down?
The joke’s on you, Gemma. How will you explain him to your family?
I thought about texting him and saying I wasn’t feeling well and then slipping out to go to church anyway.
Yup, lying through my teeth. Perfect.
I groaned and rolled out of bed. I got ready, making a production of my hair because I was going to church. Yup, that was the only reason. It didn’t have to do with a certain rugged-jawed, gorgeous goalie from a little European principality.
I didn’t even know what religion he was, but at least he was a churchgoer.
I put on my black dress. It looked more appropriate for church than for swing dancing. A little dab of mascara and lip gloss. Taking one last look at my reflection, my eyes and cheeks glowing oddly, I texted Diego that I was ready.
I came out to the dry summer heat, grateful I wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Diego was just coming down the hallway, his eyes leaping with happiness.
“Hello.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it.
“Hi.”
“So lovely.”
He was wearing a gray pin-striped suit with an elegant silver tie. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of the GQ Magazine. How did one make good-looking seem so effortless?
“Thank you.”
He helped me into the car and then, just as casually, planted a soft kiss on my lips before walking to the other side. I held on to the steering wheel, probably with a dazed look. Because I felt it.
I pointed out landmarks on our way. “That was my elementary school. My favorite bakery. The restaurant where I had my first date.”
“A pizza place, huh?”
“Yup.”
“We should go there sometime.”
Before I leave was the unspoken phrase. I nodded, my throat tightening.
“That is, unless you have bad memories from that first date,” he added.
“It’s all right. It was an okay date, but I don’t have nightmares or anything.”
“Good.”
The Catholic church parking lot was already pretty full. I pulled into a spot near the entrance from the road.
“I wondered what church you go to,” he said. “I’m Catholic too.”
Our gazes met and held. I saw my relief mirrored in his eyes.
One less thing to worry about.
I kept my hand away from him in case he thought about holding it. I didn’t want my family to see and draw conclusions about a relationship still so new and fragile. And most likely short-lived.
Papi and my twin sisters were already in our favorite pew. Normally, we all fit just fine, but with Diego, we had to squeeze in.
“My coworker from camp,” I whispered to my family. “This is Diego. Diego, my Papi and sisters.”
My sixteen-year-old sisters ogled Diego, turning to me with questions in their eyes. I’d have to fill them in later. The priest had already come out, and it was time to pay attention to Mass.
Good luck with that.
As squished as we were on the bench, I had no choice but to sit right next to Diego, his arm draped over my shoulders. I set my hand lightly on his pant leg, and he promptly covered it with his, twining his fingers in mine. The hand he’d thrown over my shoulders caressed the fabric of my dress.
I snuck a glance at him and saw his beautiful lips curve into a smile.
I tried to be good and pay attention to Mass. Despite my best efforts, most of the priest’s sermon went over my head. I tried to pay attention still, but at the end, with relief, I was glad when the priest declared Mass over.
Still holding my hand, Diego helped me to my feet.
“Hi!” came my twin sisters’ greetings. “How do you know our sister?”
I pulled out of his handhold. “He’s here for a few weeks, helping with soccer camp.”
“Oh.”
“Are you coming to dinner, m’ija?” Papi asked, but he was looking at Diego.
“I am,” I said in a whisper. “After I take Diego back to the training camp.” My words sounded dumb in my ears, and I could already picture Mami scolding me from heaven for not inviting Diego over for dinner, but I needed to do this to slow things down.
“Well, then, we will see you later.” Papi nodded. “Nice to meet you, Diego.”
We left the church and walked to the car, both lost in our thoughts. He didn’t try to hold my hand, which should have made me feel relieved. Instead, I felt kind of hollow inside.
“Thanks for coming to church with me,” I said as I pulled up to his apartment, trying to be formal.
“Thanks for asking me. That was nice.”
Nice. Nice is what you say about someone who was polite. Someone who followed the rules. Someone who kept their yard clean. Nothing exciting. Just safe. A little boring.
I could have asked him what he was doing with his afternoon. If I could see him again tonight. I could have asked him a million other things. But the words were stuck in my throat.
“Have fun at your folks,” he said. His voice was cool, and he didn’t try to kiss me. He didn’t even look like he wanted to.
He got out, and I kept my smile plastered on my face until he disappeared around the corner. Swallowing painfully, I backed out of the camp parking lot so I could return to my family and Sunday dinner.
They would for sure ask questions about him, and truthfully, I would be able to say that nothing was happening between us…now.
Chapter Nineteen
Diego
On Monday, I came out to the fields trying to act like everything was normal. Gemma didn’t want to have anything to do with me. At least, not with her family around. We were just friends. I was a coworker. Even with all those kisses, those moments we shared, I wasn’t fit enough to take home for Sunday dinner.
Okay, I got it.
She was already on the field, her back turned to me. Despite my resolve, I gazed at her with that longing that was becoming all too familiar. But my hurting heart reminded me that it was best to keep my distance.
I veered off to the side and ran into Cherise. She greeted me warmly. Even though I knew she and I would not be an item, I basked in her friendliness.
“Come on over,” came Gemma’s clipped command.
The kids and trainers surrounded her. I stayed out of her sight. I didn’t think I could stand her looking at me in that cool manner, like we were strangers. A couple of times, she turned her head my way. We were both hiding behind our sunglasses.
This went on through the rest of the week. Cherise kept watching us with a frown. When she asked if something was wrong, I referred her back to Gemma.
I knew Gemma was running scared, she said so herself, so I made sure that at lunch, we sat with the group.
No sitting by ourselves to see if I could steal another kiss—although I would have loved to. No asking her out again. No flirting openly.
At least not with words. I did allow myself to watch her sometimes, the way she was so good with the children, the way this job made her so happy. When she worked with them, she blossomed, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Of course, Mike made my job of giving Gemma room easier. He constantly showed up and sat between us at lunch, seeming to have a change of heart about being my mortal enemy number one. At least outwardly, to Gemma. He was still making a play for her, and it annoyed me to no end. But maybe she was better off with him. At least he was going to stay on. I had my life in Mondragón. Princess Adele could comfort my broken heart.
I was still saying these inane excuses in my head so I could throw a pity party.
On Friday, Cherise elbowed me at lunch while Mike monopolized Gemma at conversation. “You really shouldn’t let Mike steal her away from you.”
The way she phrased that made me a bit more miserable. “Does Gemma like him?”
“No. Not at all. But you know what they say. Familiarity breeds attraction.”
I scratched my head. “Is that really the
Americanism?”
“No.” Cherise giggled. “But that sounds more fitting than contempt.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Anyway.” She frowned. “Why are you acting like you’re on the outs? I thought you and her were together.”
“I thought so too.” I munched on my ham sandwich and looked out to the horizon. “We went to church and I met her family…”
“Ooh, that sounds serious.”
“That’s the thing. Nothing came of it. I didn’t get invited to Sunday dinner.”
Cherise blinked. “Huh?”
“In other words,” I explained, “I thought we had something, but she acts like she’s not ready. So I won’t push her, I’ve decided. I’ll just put my head down and work these remaining weeks. And then go back to Mondragón.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded and polished off the rest of my sandwich. “When she’s ready…we’ll see.”
“I think I see now what’s going on. Can I take this minute to…slap you upside the head?”
“Huh?”
“No wonder she looks miserable,” Cherise hissed. “I’ve been trying to pry her side of the story out of her, but she just gives me this poor-me look. And then you go and explain you are ditching her over Sunday dinner!”
“Well, it wasn’t just the dinner. Though it sounds really dumb when you put it that way.” I winced.
“Snap out of it. It’s not too late.” She eyed me up and down. “You’re here for what, three weeks?”
I smiled at Cherise’s tough love. “So what do you propose I do?”
“First, erase that smug smile off your face, Prince. Second, she needs a date for her sister’s upcoming wedding.”
“She does?” I imagined dressing up for this wedding, meeting her family, maybe holding her hand again, us kissing…
“Yep. I can already tell you like the idea. Good. So as long as she asks you and not Mike…”
“When is the wedding?”
“Not this Saturday but the following one.”
“And where is this wedding reception?”
“Right here in Sunnyridge.”
“I would love to go.” I cleared my throat. “That is, if she’ll have me as her date.” I shrugged. “I don’t think she wants to do more with me, though. She’s been avoiding me.”
“Can you blame her when you throw a fit over not being invited to Sunday dinner? Besides…Gemma’s pretty intense during the week. Give her a chance. Weekends, she usually lets her hair down, literally.”
I soon got lost in a daydream of the last time I saw Gemma with her hair down—wet, unruly, gorgeous…that night with the sprinklers.
“Earth to Diego.”
I laughed. “You don’t suppose you could put in a good word for me with your friend, could you?”
“I’ll try, but she’s stubborn. I gotta give her that.”
“I certainly won’t force myself upon her.”
“Good. Because if you did—let’s just say I’ve seen the collateral damage from when she came home from a bad date once. The guy had to be on crutches for a few weeks.”
“I hope I don’t make her that mad.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have your spats. But she really has a good heart. You’ll be fine.”
Cherise tapped my arm just as Gemma looked our way. Her mouth turned downward on one side, and she looked away.
Could it be that, based on her expression, Gemma was jealous?
I smiled to myself.
Chapter Twenty
Gemma
I was listening to Mike while my mind whirred a dozen different ways.
What are Diego and Cherise whispering to each other about over there? Why can’t Mike take a hint and leave me alone? Why is Diego looking at me like he has a trick up his sleeve when all week he’s been pouting? Is he still put out that I didn’t invite him to Sunday dinner? Why does my body play traitor whenever he looks at me? When will he kiss me again? Will we ever kiss again?
Why am I overthinking all this?
“…what do you think?”
Think…think…I blinked and focused back on Mike. “Sorry, what?”
He glanced over his shoulder in Diego’s direction, his expression sour as a lemon. “Since I’m also invited to your sister’s wedding, I wondered if we could just go together.”
“You are?” That was news to me. “Why?” I knew that sounded rude. “I mean, remind me how you know her?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Because I’ve lived in Sunnyridge forever, and your family knows mine?”
My heart sank. “Oh, right.”
“But that’s beside the point. Like I said, I’m happy to give you a ride over.”
“Mike.” I tried to make my voice firm. He needed to finally get the message. “I’m not interested in a romantic relationship with you. Not now. Or ever.” At his crushed expression, I relented. “Sorry, I know that’s harsh.”
“Well, I wasn’t asking for anything romantic. I just thought since you and I are coworkers, it would seem odd if we drove separately. That’s all.” His eyes filled with hurt, and I felt rotten. “It’s okay.”
I sighed. “We can drive together; that’s fine.”
His eyes lit up. He would be so much more attractive if he didn’t frown so much. Past his shoulder, I noticed Cherise crooking her finger at me. She was finishing her lunch by Diego, who was also watching me.
I came over and sat next to her. Even though I wasn’t next to Diego, I was hyperaware of him and how his longish hair curled around his ears and over his collar, how he must have freshly shaved over the weekend but still sported an attractive five o’clock shadow, and how he didn’t hide the fascination in his eyes when he glanced my way.
“You got a date yet for your sister’s wedding?” she whispered.
“Not exactly. But I just agreed to drive in with Mike.”
Disbelief crossed Cherise’s face. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I stood, anxious to discuss this privately. “Come walk with me, Cherise?”
When we were out of everyone else’s earshot, she whirled on me. “Now why would you agree to that?”
“He is from Sunnyridge. It seemed churlish to turn down his invitation to drive in together.”
“You’re just too nice, Gemma. What about Diego?”
My cheeks warmed. I was sure I was blushing. “What about him?”
“You could take him as a date.”
“Hold on, Cherise. Taking a guy to a family thing means we’re serious, and we aren’t. I haven’t spent time with him since—” I almost said, since we kissed.
Cherise looked at me curiously. “Since when?”
“Since he went to church with my family.”
Cherise huffed. “Yeah, I heard about that. And that you didn’t invite him to dinner.”
I frowned. “Is he grousing about that? As if we hadn’t gone to dinner at the Saddlery or eaten Chinese…”
“Have you guys been dating, then?”
“Not officially. We took Santosh and his mom home and stopped at The Saddlery. And then the Chinese takeout was at the overlook.”
“No way.” Cherise grabbed my arm. “Guys take their girlfriends to either place to propose! That’s a high bar to set, isn’t it?”
“A high bar?”
“Well, when he finally proposes, where would he do that?”
I rolled my eyes. “I gotta finish my project for Jason, okay.”
She let go of my arm, but her expression was still anxious. “I think you’re avoiding Diego. He’s so perfect for you.”
“Yeah…until he has to leave.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? Then just go to Mondragón with him.”
“Oh. Okay. Why don’t I go ahead and pack.” I scowled. “Cherise. Get real here. We lead separate lives. I have my work here, and he’s in La Liga.”
“I’ve heard of long-distance relationships working.”
“Maybe. Sorry, not my cup
of tea. Besides…I’ve been thinking about this a bit more. How could I be married to a soccer player when I’m no good as an athlete? I would be consumed with jealousy.”
There. I said it.
Cherise shook her head, sending her shiny bob swishing about her face. “Oh. So this is what it’s really about? Honey, you have to let go of that.”
I stepped back, drawing my breath. “Cherise, I can’t believe you’d say that.”
“Sorry.” Cherise gave me a sympathetic glance. “I know how important soccer was to you.”
“Is,” I practically yelled. “Is!”
And then I ran off, past a shocked Diego.
Chapter Twenty-One
Diego
“If you want to go after her,” Cherise told me, “the rest of us can take care of the children.”
“But what—”
“Just go.” There was an urgency in her voice. “Just be with her.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
I scooped up the remnants of my sandwich lunch and tossed the containers in the trash. Then I went the direction where Gemma had gone. I found her sitting with her knees pulled to her chest against a back building wall, her head bowed over her folded arms. Her sobs wrenched my heart.
I walked over and crouched beside her.
She raised startled eyes to mine, her face wet with tears. “You!” Her face crumpled again, and she hid it once more.
She didn’t send me away, so I stayed. I just let her tears run their course. After a few minutes, she raised her head and wiped her face with the bottom of her shirt.
“You’re still here,” she whispered.
“Of course.” I gave her an uncertain smile. “Want to talk?”
“The children, though.”
“Cherise took charge.”
She took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. We can’t really talk now. It’ll take a while to sort this out. I need to pull myself together and get back to work. We both need to.”