Furia(71)

I never wanted to hear words of hatred from his lips, so I kissed him over and over until the anger left. Somehow, we ended up on the sofa.

“You taste like sugar,” I said before passion overtook us. My mom could arrive any second.

“I ate an alfajor at the airport. I was starving.”

Diego’s eyes seemed to drink me up, and I basked in the feeling of being loved.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me after you heard what’s been going on,” I said, lowering my gaze. I was ready for everything except Diego’s pity.

He pushed my chin up with a finger. “How could you say that?”

I didn’t have an answer, and I snuggled against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around me.

“After Pablo called me, I took the first flight here. By the time I got your text, Roxana was already home. The distance has never hurt so much.”

Diego should’ve been in Turín. The team didn’t have a break until the next FIFA date in a few weeks.

“Don’t you have practice? How did you get permission to travel? What’s Giusti going to say?”

“I’m skipping practice. I don’t care what Giusti says.” Even though the heat in the apartment was unbearable, I shivered when he added, “He’ll understand once we’re safely back at home.”

I sat up. “What do you mean?”

Diego bit his lip. It was easy to speak through a phone screen, but now the words wouldn’t come.

An alarm bell rang inside me that I couldn’t ignore.

“Diego . . .”

“I came to take you with me, Camila.”

The blood rushed in my ears.

“He’ll never touch you again.”

“But I can’t leave,” I said. “What about my team’s plans?”

Diego looked confused. “Your team’s plans? What about your dad? What if he comes back? Coach Alicia and your mom will understand. But also, who cares what they think? You need to leave. This is the perfect time . . .” His words faded.

“I have my tournament this weekend, Diego.”

“But you might not win, mi amor.”

“I can’t win if I don’t even play.”

“What are you going to do if things don’t go well?”

“There’s going to be a new national women’s team convocation. There’s a World Cup in two years, and I . . . I want to try.”

The blood drained from Diego’s face.

“I bought your plane ticket already,” he said.

Nico felt the tension and whined.

“I can’t just leave with you,” I said. “And you shouldn’t have left the team without permission.”

“You don’t mean that.” He held my hands, and his eyes shone with the glamour of his fantasies. “It’s now or never. Imagine the two of us in Europe! I’ll show you everything. Everywhere. We’ll go to Barcelona and visit La Sagrada Familia. We’ll go to Paris for Valentine’s Day. You’ll love the apartment, but if you’d prefer a house, we’ll find one in the old city, like the one Luís Felipe and Flávia just moved into.”

I closed my eyes for a second. I could almost smell the fancy streets; I could almost feel the magic of playing house with him.

“What about my dreams?” I didn’t want to yell, but why wasn’t he listening to me? “What about my career, Diego?”

Diego put his head in his hands and breathed deeply. “I thought your dream was to be with me.”

“It’s one of them, Diego.”

“My greatest dream is being with you. What’s in the way? You could play in Turín. I’ll see if you can get a tryout for the women’s team, but you don’t need to worry about anything ever again. I’m getting you out of here before your father hurts you, Camila. Why aren’t you happy about this?” Diego never lost his temper, but his voice was rising, matching mine.

Why was he making me choose?

“I’m not going to run away.”

Diego stared at me. But this time, I didn’t lower my gaze.

“I’m sorry you bought a ticket. I’m sorry you left the team to come rescue me. But Diego,” I said softly, caressing his hand, “you should’ve at least talked to me before you did that. I have opportunities here. Even if I have a bad tournament and we lose el Sudamericano, there are other tryouts, and I’ll get them on my own. I’ll keep trying.”

“And I don’t mean anything to you?” He stood up.

I stood up, too. “Of course you do. Te quiero.” I said it. I finally said it. “Nothing will change that, but I won’t abandon everything I’ve worked for. If I do, then he wins. Can’t you see? We can keep doing long distance . . .”

“I can’t keep doing long distance.”

Diego was the type of person who either committed wholeheartedly or walked away. How had I not seen it before? He’d gotten offers from smaller European teams, but he had only agreed to move when Juventus gave him a contract. He’d play for the best or no one. He’d only pursued me when he was sure my feelings for him hadn’t changed. He’d only come back because he believed I’d follow him.

Now he looked unmoored.