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luara paused, midway through putting her lipstick on in the mirror, and turned to face him in the car. he glanced back at her, squeezing her thigh slightly.
"you're going to saudi arabia?"
he exhaled, nodding his head, "yeah, i move there in august."
"and you didn't think to tell me when it came up?"
he lifted his hand that was on her thigh to rake through her hair, "i know, i'm sorry, meu amor, but you knew i wanted out of psg. i wanted to go back to barcelona–"
"so, why didn't you? you loved barcelona, baby, you regretted leaving as soon as you got to paris." she turned back to the mirror, resuming doing her lipstick, "you'd be so much happier there. back at home."
"they don't have a lot of money, lua. they can't afford me." he shrugged, watching her out of the corner of his eye. he'd been anxious to tell her about his decision for days, but he finally plucked up the courage on the way to drop her off at one of her bridal's.
"and? if you really loved barcelona you wouldn't be bothered about the money. you have enough of it as it is, getting fucking two hundred mil just to go to kick a football about." she huffed, shrugging to herself, "saudi arabia is beautiful, though."
"i know it is, and i'm not bothered about the money, but my dad and my agency thought otherwise." he ran his hand over her thigh, playing with the hem of her skirt, "you're gonna come with me though, aren't you?"
she didn't respond for a moment, staring at herself in the mirror. she fixed up her mascara, "hm, okay. but i'm not having my baby somewhere that's not brasil. i want a brasilian baby. born and raised."
he furrowed his brows, stopping at a red light, turning his head to face her. he opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.
"i'm not pregnant."
"yet."
she smacked the back of her hand on his thigh, making him let out a chuckle. they never really talked about having a child together, they just mentioned it every now and again. their whole topics about kids would be, 'our baby would look cute in that' , 'facts'.
he looked over at her with a small smile, "you gonna pick out a house when we get home?"
"pick out a house? what, you have options?" she chuckled breathily, humming along to the radio as she tilted her head to each side to get a look at her hair, making sure it was perfect.
"of course i do." he nodded, pulling away from the now green lights, "i want you to choose where you want me to get you pregnant."
she rolled her eyes, shaking her head, "no, not yet. i don't want to be pregnant in my wedding dress."
he groaned, titling his head back against the seat, "why won't you let me get you pregnant?"
"i wanna get married first."
"and i wanna get married before i go to saudi, so you better pick a dress today, meu amor."
she flicked the mirror back up and turned to look at him in disbelief. she couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but he wasn't sneaking any looks at her or laughing, "are you serious? neymar that does not give us a lot of time to plan. i want a perfect wedding, not a shitty rushed one."
"i'll make sure it's perfect for you, i promise." he pulled the car to a stop outside of the bridal, undoing her seatbelt for her and leaning over to press a kiss to her lips, "go pick a dress you'll look beautiful in, and i'll talk to my mãe about it. you wanna go to são paulo? or rio? or anywhere else?"
she searched his expression for any sign of a joke, but she didn't find it. her heart rate picked up in her chest, and she let out a breath, feeling pressured already, "meu deus, ney," she pressed another kiss to his lips, "rio. and okay, i will. i love you."
