A great thing about my dad is that he never, ever liked Stewart. Even pulled me aside at our wedding and asked if I was sure I wanted to marry him. I was angry and upset about it at the time, that I didn’t have Daddy’s approval, but in hindsight, I think my dad sensed something was off.
“We all hoped for that. It didn’t happen though.”
“He’s really young, Thalia,” he says quietly.
“I know,” I say, closing my eyes.
Is this ever not going to be the first thing people say?
“I’m sure you do know, and if you’re still having these feelings for him, I’m sure they are valid. In fact, I know this is something important and serious to you because otherwise you would have never called to ask for my advice. So, do you still want my advice?”
I nod, gripping my phone tighter. “Yes.”
“You’ve always been cautious and a bit of an overachiever. Maybe because of me, I don’t know. You’re hard on yourself and you always have been. You need to cut yourself some slack.”
“Cut yourself a slab,” I mumble under my breath. “Eat the ham.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I can practically hear him frown over the phone. “Anyway, it’s true, sweetie. You’re being hard on yourself right now, I can tell. The only advice I can truly give you is that…life isn’t something that happens to you, it’s something that happens for you.”
I let the words sink into my skin.
My dad goes on. “Right now, Albarado, he’s in your life and he’s happening for you, and there’s a reason for that. Maybe you need to be with someone who is the opposite of Stewart. Maybe you need to feel wanted and desired. Maybe you’re finding out who you really are and what you really want. It could be all of those things. You just have to ask yourself, does this feel right or does this feel wrong?” He pauses. “And if you think it feels right, then you have to open yourself up. I say this because I know you, Thalia. Opening up is hard and it’s scary, but you have to do it if you want to move on in life.”
“You mean, give myself the green light?”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever analogy you want. You have the green light here, so go through it. If you get where you need to go, great. If you don’t, hey, at least you’re not standing still. Right? If I may throw another analogy your way, you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
“Michael Scott,” I comment.
“No, Wayne Gretzky,” he says incredulously, not getting my Office joke. “Anyway, I’m really glad you called me. You know, your brothers never talk to me about any of this stuff.”
“That’s what their wives are for.”
“Hey, Dads are good for something too.”
“They are. Thanks for listening, Dad” I tell him, my heart feeling full.
“You’re welcome. Now I’m going to go upstairs and hit the hay before your mother yells at me about falling asleep in the recliner again. I love you, sunshine.”
“I love you too.”
I hang up the phone and stare at it for a moment.
The need to text Alejo is rising. I should reach out to him, say something. After what my dad said, I feel like I’m losing time for some reason.
But Alejo’s pissed at me for putting our relationship on pause, and in retrospect, I don’t blame him. Yeah, he’s funneled that energy into the game and he’s scored two goals in the last three games, which is great. He’s back and his passion for it is showing.
But, selfishly, I miss him.
I want him.
We have a gala tonight at some old palace to honor Luciano getting the Sportsman of the Year award.
Maybe I have the chance to make things right.
* * *
“Thalia, you look fantastic!” Vera exclaims, tottering over to me on her spiky high heels as I step inside the entrance to the palace, slipping between two grandiose pillars. “You’re like a disco ball. But make it sexy.”
I look down at my dress and stick my hips out like ta-da. “Thank you. You don’t look so shabby yourself.”
My dress is one-shouldered, nipped in at the waist, with a scandalously high slit up the side, made entirely of ice blue sequins. Since it’s the Christmas season and Madrid is going through a cold spell, I figured it would suit the occasion.
Vera’s dress is a 1950s style black, off-the-shoulder velvet number that clings to her hips in a very flattering way, her breasts pushed up to her neck, her hair down in ringlets. I took inspiration from the last time we were together at Alejo’s party and smudged my eyes up with dark blue glittery eye shadow as an homage to her.
“Where’s Mateo?” I ask her, looking around.
There’s a ton of people here gathered around the large hall. Dim glowing lights hang beside opulent chandeliers, there’s a red carpet, everyone’s in a tux or in gowns, and waiters dressed like penguins walk around with plates of champagne and tapas.
Vera plucks two glasses off a passing tray and hands one to me. “He’s off being a coach and doing his coach duties,” she says. “Face of the team and all that.” She gives me a smile. “So, how are you doing? You know I keep saying this, but we should really talk more. Granted, you’re probably as busy as Mateo is, but still.”
“I agree. We should. And I should start carving out some time for some kind of a social life.”
“Well, what are you doing for Christmas? Are you going home?”
I shrug, even though I know I’m not.
“Okay, but if you find yourself with nowhere to go, you can always come over and have Christmas with us.”
“You don’t go home for Christmas?” I ask her.
“Are you kidding?” she says with a laugh. “My family is a mess. And anyway, we’re scattered all over the place. My brother Josh lives with his wife in New Zealand. My sister is in New York. My parents are divorced. It’s much easier to stay here.”
“Well, thank you for the invite. I’ll let you know.”
“Oh, and there’s the man of the hour himself,” Vera says, raising her glass of champagne at Luciano who comes striding over.
I do the same. “Congratulations, big shot.”
He puffs out his chest, looking extremely suave in his tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back. “Thank you, thank you,” he says. “It’s an honor to be nominated.”
Vera snorts. “You win this thing like every year. There’s never anyone else nominated. They should just call it the Luciano award.”
He gives her a cocky grin. “What can I say, the people at the magazine love me.”
There are numerous sports awards given every year in Madrid, this one being held by a prestigious local magazine. And apparently, Luciano almost always wins. I guess that’s what you get for being captain of Real Madrid.
Still, it’s fun to see all the players here, dressed up and mingling.
“Where’s your date?” I ask Luciano.
“Don’t have one,” he says, then leans in closer to me, lowering his voice. “Where’s your date?”
“Don’t have one either,” I tell him, giving him a pointed look, especially with Vera right there. I know what he’s getting at.
“You don’t even have a secret date?”
“No.” I sip my champagne and give him the death eyes.
“Whoa, whoa,” he says to me, raising his palms. “I don’t want any trouble here, not before I accept my award.”
“Luciano!” someone yells for him in the distance.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he says, looking a little frightened of me as he strides away.
“You know,” Vera says, watching him. “I think you and Luciano would make a very cute couple.”
I nearly spit out my champagne. I cough. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugs, smiling dreamily. “I don’t know. I guess I’m always trying to play matchmaker. He’s single, you know. And oh so handsome. He reminds me of an actor…”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Of the actor or that he’s single?”
“That he’s single.”
“You’re single.”
“Also aware of that. We’ve had this discussion before. In a closet, remember? You wanted to set me up with your friends.”
“I know, but Luciano is a much better choice.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Oh, who cares if you’re on the same team? The heart wants what it wants.”
I give her a steady look. “I’m not interested in Luciano.”
“Then who are you interested in?”
I frown. “Who says I’m interested in anyone?”
She bites her tongue for a moment as she looks me up and down. “I don’t know. Just a feeling I get from you. Your vibe. You keep looking around the room like you’re looking for someone, and you look beyond gorgeous. Like you’re really trying to impress someone tonight.”
I don’t say anything to that. As someone who is told to open up more, I guess I’m extremely easy to read. I’ve been looking for Alejo this whole time and I haven’t spotted him yet.
“Meet-cute!”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.
“What, what?” Vera says, turning around to see motherfucking Sergio of all people coming toward us. He does look quite good in a suit, but he’s not the person I want to see.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, in probably not my most polite moment.
“I figured I’d see you here,” he says.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” I say, half-serious.
“I suppose I could say the same to you. I work at the magazine as a graphic designer. This is my event.”
“And who are you, anyway?” Vera asks pointedly.
“My manners,” Sergio says. “I’m Sergio. A friend of Thalia’s.”
“A friend, huh?” Vera says suspiciously, looking between the two of us with one brow permanently raised. “Okay. I get it now.”
Absolutely nothing to get, I want to say.
“Buenas noches, damas y caballeros. Gracias por venir,” a man with a mic announces from the small stage set up at the end of the room, the lights dimming slightly. People start to crowd around the stage, the volume in the room going to a murmur.
“The awards are starting,” Vera says. “I’m going to go find my husband.”
She leaves me with Sergio.
Meanwhile, my eyes are still scanning the crowd for Alejo.
“So, you never called me about those tickets,” Sergio says to me, leaning in close. I have my hair piled high on my head in a messy updo, and his breath is uncomfortably close to my neck.
I move my head away a little and give him a steady look. “I’ve been busy.”
“So I’ve seen. Qatar, Brugge. You must be traveling all over the place these days. But your team has been winning them all. It’s a nice turnaround.”
“Because they’re the best,” I say, raising my chin.
He chuckles. “The best is always changing, isn’t it?”
“They’ve won the most UEFA world cups out of anyone.”
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” he says. “But I didn’t come over here to talk to you about Los Blancos.”
“Why did you come over here?” I ask him wryly. “To offer me more Spanish lessons?”
“Más o menos,” he says, putting his hand at my hip and holding me there. “Maybe I wanted to ask you out on a date.”
Oh boy.
I twist my body away from his hand, trying to think of the right way to turn him down, and as I’m doing so, I see Alejo at the opposite side of the room, near the stage.
He’s in a tuxedo, looking so devilishly handsome that I can’t breathe for a second.
And then I meet his eyes.
His eyes that are staring right at mine with shock and hurt and rage.
Fuck!
He rips his gaze away and starts moving through the crowd, away from the stage, away from me.
He obviously just saw Sergio putting the moves on me.
Great fucking timing once again.
“Well?” Sergio asks, sounding impatient and trying to get my attention.
I blink at him and absently hand him my glass of champagne.
“Here, have this,” I say to him, and then I start walking toward Alejo who has already disappeared down a long, dark hallway.
I look back over my shoulder to see Sergio looking at me in bewilderment, but no one else is paying any attention to me. All eyes are on the stage.
I hurry, my heels clicking, hoping there’s no exit here and that Alejo hasn’t left. I see the coat room, a restroom…
And Alejo’s figure stepping out of another room.
He grabs my arm and pulls me inside.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Alejo cries out, spinning me around until my back is against the wall.
It’s dark except for the lights from the street outside streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bracketed by velvet drapes. The room is completely empty, the wallpapered walls peeling and bare.
In the dim light, Alejo’s eyes are shining and impassioned, his jaw clenched, a vein at his temple rippling. Even when angry, he’s extremely sexy.
“Doing to you?” I repeat.
“Who the fuck was that?”
“No one,” I tell him.
“Bullshit. Bullshit! Is this why you wanted to have a break, so you could fuck around with that guy?”
“Hey!” I yell right back. “I haven’t fucked around with anyone but you. I don’t want anyone but you. That’s a guy I keep running into, and for your information, the moment you saw us, he was asking me out and I had just said no. Can’t you read my body language? Did it even look like I was interested?”
He swallows and looks away, his arms on either side of me bracing him against the wall. I can see his pulse racing in his throat. “You have to understand what it’s like for me, okay?” He looks at me, his eyes searching. “You tell me you want a break and then you avoid me like I have the fucking plague. Now I see you here with some guy, when you knew I’d be here.”
“It was bad timing,” I tell him, practically pleading for him to believe me. “And I haven’t been avoiding you, you’ve been avoiding me! We’ve been flying all over the place, we’ve been practicing, we’ve been everywhere together, and yet you never once looked in my direction.”
“Maybe I was doing it when I knew you weren’t looking.”
I close my eyes, not happy with the way this is going. “Alejo…”
“You broke my heart a little,” he says, his voice dropping, full of hurt, hurt I feel in the pit of my stomach. “Do you know what it felt like to fuck up so badly that I not only made my team lose the game but I also lost you at the same time?”
“You didn’t lose me,” I protest. “You never lost me.”
“I did too! You put our relationship, whatever the fuck this is, you put it on hold. You either want to be with me or you don’t, Thalia. Make up your fucking mind.”
“That’s not fair!” I snap at him. “That is not fair. This, us, it’s complicated. We’re complicated. I’m just trying to figure it out!”
“You’re the one making it complicated! Everything I feel for you is as straightforward as possible.” His eyes drop to my mouth. He’s breathing hard. “So, tell me. Do you want me or not?”
“Alejo…” I begin.
“Do you want me or not?”
Before I can answer, he leans in swiftly and presses his mouth to mine, taking me in a hard and punishing kiss that makes me dizzy.
My head bangs back against the wall and his hands slip around my neck and waist, holding me hostage while our lips devour each other, all our hunger, all our anger and frustration coming out in a frenzy.
“Tell me you want me,” he says against my mouth, pressing his erection against my stomach. “Tell me we still have something.”
“We still have everythin
g,” I manage to say before he kisses me again. His hands slide down the sides of my dress and he hikes it up around my waist. His fingers move between my thighs and find me wet already. I can’t help but whimper.
“Did you not wear underwear because you knew I’d be here?” he asks through a groan, kissing down my neck, sucking at my skin.
“I was planning on talking to you,” I admit. I close my eyes to the sensation of his fingers sliding where I’m achingly slick and as sensitive as a bomb.
“Talking like this?” he asks as he reaches under and grabs my ass, hoisting me up with a grunt until my legs wrap around his waist.
“I was feeling optimistic.”
I reach down and fumble for his belt buckle, my hands not moving fast enough, my body growing more desperate by the second.
He unzips his pants, taking his cock out. I gape at it for a moment; it’s almost gratuitous how thick it is. I revel in knowing how hard I make him.
But the thoughts quickly dissolve.
With one fluid motion he pushes himself inside me to the hilt.
I gasp, nails on his tux jacket, trying to breathe through it as I’m practically impaled against the wall. “Oh god,” I cry out softly, feeling every hot and hard inch of him.
He comes at me again, pulling out just enough and quickly slamming his length back in, pushing the air out of my lungs, making my limbs tremble.
“Fuck, Thalia,” he growls, his pace becoming fast and frantic as he fucks me against the wall. “It’s been too long. I’ve been too long without you. Never put me through this again.”
“I won’t,” I say through a moan as his hand slips down and he slides his thumb against my clit.
God, I’ve needed this. I’ve wanted this.
“I’ve missed this,” I say, my words low and broken and raw. I dig my nails in deeper, holding on to him, holding on to what we have. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”
He brings his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding in hungrily as he pumps against my hips at a dizzying pace. His forehead is furrowed in pure concentration, this desire to fuck the doubts out of me, to make sure there’s no one else but him.
The Younger Man: A Novel Page 28
