Page 92 of My Spanish Love Affair

This isexactlywhat I’ve needed.

∞∞∞

“I want you to meet my manager.”

I glance up from my glass of wine, surprised by the suddenness of Santi’s statement.

“Your manager?” I echo, trying not to choke on the words as I set the glass down.

He nods, his green eyes studying me intently from where he leans against the kitchen island.

“Javier. He’s been handling my media and PR for years. He’s the one who helps me navigate all the noise.”

“And why would your manager want to meet me?”

Santi’s lips twitch into a small smile, but there’s a seriousness behind it.

“Because he thinks it’s important. With everything that’s been happening lately - the media attention, the rumours - he believes it’s time to shift the narrative.”

“Shift the narrative?” I repeat, feeling a little defensive. “What does that mean?”

He pushes off the counter and takes a step closer, his voice softening.

“It means showing people who you really are, Olivia. Not just...the girlfriend, or whatever. Javier wants to help the world see the woman I see.”

“And what exactlydoyou see?” I ask.

His smile softens further, and he steps closer, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my face as his green eyes search mine.

“I see someone smart, strong, and passionate. A woman who’s brave and dedicated to making a difference in the lives of her students. That’s the Olivia I know. That’s the Olivia I want the world to know, too.”

His words land with a weight I hadn’t expected, and I find myself looking away, overwhelmed.

“I don’t know, Santi,” I murmur. “It’s one thing to have my face put out there when I go to your matches, but actively engaging with the media...”

“It doesn’t have to be about anything to do with the spotlight,” he says. “It’s about reclaiming the story. Right now, other people are writing it for you. Why not make it your own? Claim it as yours, as it should be.”

“Do you think I’m interesting enough for that?” I blurt out before I can stop myself, the words betraying my nerves.

Santi’s eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a soft, incredulous laugh.

“Are you kidding me?”

I glance at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his expression.

“Olivia, you’ve built an entire life for yourself in a new country. You’ve created something meaningful out of nothing. You’re shaping the futures of your students, helping them grow, giving them opportunities. And on top of all that, you’re…you. You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re -”

“Okay, okay,” I say, cutting him off with a small laugh, though my cheeks are burning. “I get it. You think I’m great.”

“I don’t just think it. Iknowit,” he says firmly. “And if we do this, then the rest of the world will know it, too.”

I search his face for any trace of pressure or expectation, but as is so consistent for him, all that I find there is patience and understanding.

“What would Javier even want to do?” I ask cautiously.

“He wants to highlight your work,” Santi says.

“So you’ve discussed this with him already.”

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