Page 82 of Those Heartbreak Scars

The game ends and the stands empty out. I make my way down to the floor with America. We wait outside the doors to the locker rooms.

A couple of players walk out with their gear bags over their shoulders. They were good. Another year in and they might be worth pursuing. But they’re not on Diogo Costa’s level.

When he finally appears I fall in beside him as he stalks across the gym. America hurries to keep up with us but stays a few steps behind while I start telling the kid how phenomenal he is.

He stares down at me blankly.

“Grayson Ford from Frontline Sports. I’d like to talk to you about a partnership and what I could do for you.”

He frowns. “Sem inglês.”

Great. He doesn’t understand me. My confidence sinks. How am I supposed to sign him now?

“Olá, meu nome éAmerica.” She steps between us and starts to talk to Diogo while I feel like an idiot, unable to understand a word they’re saying.

Diogo laughs and America joins in.

He smiles at me over the top of her head, flashing rows of pearly teeth. Then walks out ahead of us.

“What was that?” I ask as America and I walk across the almost empty stadium. I know what it was. My woman is a genius with languages. “I didn’t know you spoke Portuguese.”

“Some. I don’t count it because I’m not super fluent.” She leans toward me and lowers her voice. “He actually does speak a little English but not fluently, so he only speaks to agents when his brother is around to help translate. Since his brother isn’t here, he was giving you the brush off.”

“So that’s it then?” I’ll have to work out my next step. Quickly find another talent to sign, so I can establish myself, my company.

“No. He actually does want to hear what you have to say. I convinced him I could help translate where necessary. But he needs to get to his family’s restaurant, and his brother will be there. He invited us to share a meal. We’re going to follow him there.”

“So you’re saving my ass?” I want to scoop her up and kiss her for being so smart.

“Something like that.”

We follow Diogo to the restaurant and end up seated around tables on the cobblestoned street outside, where we get acquainted with the whole family. Umbrellas and string lights create a joyous and casual ambience as the sun goes down.

He has four younger brothers and two older sisters who all work in some capacity at the restaurant. His father pours America a shot of Ginjinha. He pats her forearm as he speaks to her in a quiet, friendly voice.

“It’s a sour cherry liqueur,” she tells me as she lifts it to her lips and sips it. She’s having a fantastic time, conversing animatedly with all of Diogo’s family. Including the children that are running around underfoot.

Diogo’s grandmother’s huge, fluffy Portuguese waterdog is sleeping on top of my feet while his sisters bring out petiscos. Cheeses and meats. Salamis. Olives. Snails.

America arches a devilish eyebrow when she sees that last one. “Ever had snails?”

“No. But I’m good with weird food. If they want me to try them I will.”

“As long as no one brings out Jell-O,” America teases.

That shit makes my skin crawl. Makes me gag.

It brings back memories of my parents screaming at each other. Of my mom throwing a bowl of it at my father only for the contents to land on me instead. It had coated my hair and dripped in my eyes so that I could hardly see as he packed his bags and walked out on us.

It reminds me of losing Indy too. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the night she came home covered in that shit she’d already left me.

I can’t think about it without my tongue getting stuck to the roof of my mouth. Bile racing up my throat.

So I won’t think about it. I’ll focus on the here and now. On getting Diogo to sign so that I can take America back to the hotel and explain whatever late night sporting event is on, in between putting my mouth to good use.

We eat and drink. We talk, and America and Diogo’s brother translate for us. We eventually get around to discussing business.

Diogo’s sister flirts with me and his mom tells her off for being so casual with a taken man. I wrap my arm around America’s shoulder and make it obvious that we’re more than coworkers. I’ll never again put America in the position I did with Everett. The move earns huge grins from Diogo’s parents.

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