Page 48 of Not In Love

Diego laughed at her long,grammatically correct texts, then scrolled down.

Muriel says you’re in charge of the open bar on the big day. Good luck.

Hey, you didn’t block my #, did you?

The texts are delivered. So prbly not.

Will you be home for dinner tonight?

Tia wants to know.

I’ll save you some of the tandoori chicken.

It’s not too spicy but perfect.

Hey, everything okay between us?

If it’s not, I’ll give you space.

But I’m here. If you want to talk.

Dr. Shah on call for you!

OMG, that sounds so cringe...too late to delete tho.

Like a besotted fool, he stared at the screen, re-reading her words like there was a hidden code inside. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She was texting him, checking in. He could read the anxiety peeking through every text. She was worried he was mad. That he’d shut her out after what she’d said. Which, to give Kash credit, had been just the truth. She couldn’t lie, even to make things better for herself.

The ache in her eyes when she’d talked about her dad had tormented him for the rest of the evening. Even back then, she hadn’t been allowed to be a child.

The fact that she was kind of hyperventilating over him—even a little—felt absurdly amazing.

He didn't text back. Let her squirm for once. Although, he felt bad—he didn’t want to cause her even a sliver of pain.

“Jesus, kid. You got more silent sighs in that face than a whole goalkeeper lineup.”

Diego looked up as Hector Zamora, or simply Coach, slid into the booth across from him. Grayer now, thicker in the middle, but still sharp-eyed. Still watching him like a hawk.

The man had taken a chance on him when Diego was just sixteen, fresh into the youth team and cocky as hell. Gave him his first real shot. And now he was here in Portland, considering semi-retirement, last Diego had heard.

He had seized on the opportunity falling into his lap at the perfect moment.

“Sorry,” Diego muttered. “Head’s a little crowded.”

Coach nodded, waving over the server. “We’re all allowed a little fog. So, walk me through this thing again. You’ve got a team assembled, you’ve got Muriel’s money smarts, you’ve got the property?—”

“And the permits.” Diego smirked faintly. “Which were the worst part.”

Coach grunted in approval. “And you’re looking to train kids who can’t pay their way in. Make it merit-based?”

“Yeah. I want raw talent. Kids who get passed over because they didn’t show up in the right zip code.”

Coach sipped his old-fashioned. “You always were a bleeding heart. Glad to see you’re still giving a shit even after leaving the game.”

Diego let himself smile. “You in?”

“Half-retired. Still got a foot in Europe, but I’d love to offload the travel crap. Let me know if you want an old fool doing admin and scouting for you. No flights longer than six hours, though.”

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