“Actually, I wasn’t sure I wanted to move back here.” I meet her eyes. “I didn’t know where things stood with you or Eli. If there was anything worth returning for.” I stir my milkshake. “Rafael has been the closest thing to a father I’ve had since I lost mine. And my mom encouraged me to take the job. But I needed to know I could earn it on my own. That’s still something I’m trying to prove—to myself more than anyone.”
She looks down at her shake. “That’s why you kept your distance when you came back.” She pauses. “I thought it was because of me.”
“It was.” I meet her eyes. “Just not in the way you thought.”
She waits, not pushing, just giving me space.
“When I came back, I wasn’t sure I deserved to be here. Not after everything that happened between us.” I turn my glass slowly. “And then Rafael promised that if I was willing to put in the work, he’d promote me to assistant coach. But I have to prove myself like everyone else.” I shake my head. “Actually, that’s nottrue. I have to prove myselfmorethan everyone else. Because I’m the nephew, and people will always wonder if I earned the position or if it was handed to me.”
“For what it’s worth,” she says. “You’re doing a great job.”
“Says the girl who’s only seen one game.”
“That’s not true.” She sits up straighter. “I’ve been watching them online, and—” She stops abruptly, like she wants to take back everything she just said.
I lean forward on my elbows, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “Wait a minute. Go back to that part about watching me online. Don’t tell me you’ve become a Crushers fan, Rossi.”
“I wanted to learn the game,” she says defensively. “And I knew you’d be good at coaching. It’s fun seeing you in this new role.”
“Fun?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Marco.”
“So you’ve been watching me coach.” I can’t hold back the teasing note in my voice. “Online. In your free time.”
“I’ve been watching theteam,” she corrects, but her cheeks are pink.
“Uh-huh.”
“I wanted to understand the game better so I could talk with you about it.” She lifts a shoulder. “I’d like to bring my parents sometime. Maybe Eli, if I can convince him. But I think you’ll need to come over for dinner a few more times first.”
I don’t want to get her hopes up. The surprise dinner with Eli the other week turned out better than I’d expected, but we still avoided the topic of what happened between us years ago.
“How is it working for your uncle?” she asks, returning to the subject.
“He expects a lot. From everyone, but especially from me.”
Scarlett’s the only person I can actually say that to out loud. “My uncle has always been more invested in the business than anything personal. He was married once, years ago, but it endedbadly. She’d wanted the Marco money more than she’d wanted him, and he never quite got over it. Work became the only thing he trusted.” I push my shake aside. “I should be grateful I get this opportunity. He gave us everything when our family needed it, and now he’s opening doors for my career. He never had children, and I sometimes wonder if he sees me as his legacy, the person to carry on what he’s built when he’s ready to step back.” I shake my head slowly. “But I still feel like that disappointing kid who couldn’t play the game, trying to prove he deserves to be here.”
“Brendan.” She tilts her head. “You don’t have to prove anything.”
“Don’t I?” I lean back against the vinyl booth. “My uncle gave me this job. My mom pushed me to take it. The other assistant coach thinks I only got the position because of my last name. Maybe he’s right.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Every decision I make, every game we lose—I can feel my uncle wondering if he made a mistake putting me in this position.”
She pushes her glass away and fixes her gaze on me. “Or maybe you’re putting all that pressure on yourself because you’re afraid of disappointing people who love you.”
I rest my forearms on the table, letting out a sigh. “There’s that.”
Her eyes drop to my arms again, lingering on the tattoo on my forearm. “Why do you have a flower on your arm?”
I shrug. “Maybe I like flowers.”
Her lips press together, clearly not buying it. “I’ve never seen you gardening a day in your life, Brendan Marco.”
“Okay, you got me,” I say. “Perhaps I have secret dreams of being a farmer?”