Beyond Home

Lauren

Damn, this little girl is just like her mother, captivating me from the moment I met her, although in different ways. She's cute as hell as she talks a mile a minute about hitting the ball and catching it. That's the extent of her knowledge, but the way she talks as if she's a little adult, it makes you believe every word she says, as if it's in the rulebooks for the game.

"Can I stay with you?" She asks me once we join her group on a small corner of the field.

"Oh honey, I don't think—''  Camila starts but stops when I bend my knees and get eye to eye with her.

"I'd really like that, Emily," I say softly. "But I don't think that would be fair. Everyone needs a turn, and since it's just me and Max working with your group, you'll have to take turns."

"But you said we could play soccer," she says, her little lip quivering.

I look up at Camila to find her watching us . I raise my eyebrows, and she gives me a slight nod. I mouth "thank you," and turn back to Emily. No way did I want to tell her no. "How about once the tour is over, you and your mom stick around, and then it will just be you and me? Deal?"

She looks up at her mom, hope shining in her big brown eyes . "Can we, Mommy?"

Camila nods. "For a few minutes," she adds, but I don't think Emily hears her or cares. She got the answer she was hoping for and rushes off to join her friends.

"I'm sorry," she tells me.

"Sorry for what?"

"She seems to have taken to you. I know you have more important things to do. We'll just stay a few minutes," she reassures me.

Standing, I step in front of her, so close I can feel her hot breath against my chin. "I met this girl," I tell her. "She's beautiful but closed off. I was hoping to drop by her work and catch a glimpse of her since she refuses to go out with."

"Her life is complicated."

"Life is complicated," I counter. "She's all I think about, and you know what else?" I wait for her reaction. She studies me several long minutes, her breathing labored before she finally answers.

"What?" She asks in a hushed whisper.

"I found out today that she has this amazing little girl, cute as a button, loves soccer." I wink. "I wish she would give me a chance to know her, to know both of them."

"She worries," she says, biting her bottom lip.

"About what?" Reaching out, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Everything."

"Who worries about you?"

Her breath hitches. She opens then closes her mouth, no word coming out.

"Yo, Jauregui, you ready?" Max yells to me.

I hold my hand up in the air, my index finger raised, asking him for one more minute. "Thank you for staying after. We can talk then." I give her hand a gentle squeeze then turn, and walk away, a smile plastered on my face. Not because I'm here in the stadium, my home away from home, but because for the first time I feel like I might be getting somewhere with her.

Max and I have the group form two lines. There are twelve girls in total on the team, so we each have six. Emily is in my group; she made sure of it screaming. "I want to be in Lauren's group." That little girl is something else. We kick the ball to them one at a time for about half an hour before they're tukered out. We sign a few autographs, and they're on their way.

"All right, Miss Emily, you ready for some one-on-one?" I ask her.

"What's that?"

She acts like she's so much older, talks like it too. I forget she's only four. "That means you and I kick the ball."

"Just us?" She asks, her eyes wide.

"A promise is a promise."

She pulls on the bag that's resting over Camila's arm. "Mommy I need my soccer shoes," she says excitedly.

Camila laughs at her daughter; it's a beautiful sound that fills the now quiet stadium. There are still a few players standing around, and the staff, but the rest of the kids and their families are gone. It's just the three of us still messing around out here in the outfield. "Hold your horses," she tells her.

"Mommy, I don't have horses," Emily says, exasperated, making Camila and me laugh.Digging in the bag, Camila reaches her shoes and hands it to her daughter. "Ready Lo?" She asks me, putting on the shoes that look a little to worn out.

We take a few steps away from Camila and spread out a little. I'm maybe five feet from her. "Okay, the first thing you want is that you always have to be ready for when the ball is passed to you." I show her what I mean. I instruct her to do as I am doing. She's alert, waiting for me to pass the ball. "Good job. Now pass me the ball." She passes me the ball the same way I did to her.

"I did it!" She cheers, jumping up and down.

"You did. You're a natural," I tell her.

"Did your dad teach you how to kick the ball like that?" She asks innocently.

A smile tilts my lips when I think of my father Michael Jauregui, and soccer. "He did. Playing soccer was his job." She's a smart little girl, but I'm not sure she would understand if i said he played professionally. "My uncles played with me as well."

"You have an uncle?" She asks, eyes wide.

"I do."

"I don't have one of those," she says looking over at her mom for clarification.

"No, sweetie,"  Camila says gently. "Mommy and Daddy are both only children, so you have no aunts or uncles."

"But I want them. Can we get some?" She asks, her innocence grabbing hold of my heart.

"It's not that easy, Em. Maybe one day."

"Fine." She grumbles, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Little Emily Mendes reminds me so much of her mother.

"You ladies hungry?" I ask them.

"Starving," Emily says dramatically, dropping her shoulders as if she's been waiting days for me to offer her food.

"How about some pizza? There's a great place just down the street."

"I only like cheese on my pizza. That other stuff is nasty." She wrinkles her little nose.

"Cheese is it." I look over at Camila. "What do you say? Can I buy you ladies some dinner?"

She opens her mouth to protest, but Emily beats her to it. "Of course. Mommy says that when people do something nice for you, you say thank you and accept it. Thank you, Lo," she says, wrapping her arms around my leg in a hug. I smooth back some of her dark curls.

"What do you say, Camz?" I ask, holding my hand out for her.

She looks at me then to her daughter and back to me again. She exhales loudly, as if the words she's about speak pains her to say them. "Thank you, Lauren." Her voice is super sweet with a hint of sarcasm that her daughter doesn't pick up on. To my surprise, she takes my offered hand, and her palm fits against it as if we're two puzzle pieces meant to be together. With a smile on my face and a gorgeous girl on either side of me, we leave the stadium to get some cheese pizza.