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Robert’s decision to join Barcelona was one of the best he’d ever made. He missed Bayern much more than he expected, missed the Bundesliga much more than he expected, but the fact remained.
The country was a good change of pace for him, especially after his split with Anna. Robert couldn’t even express how glad he was that it had been mutual and amicable, because before they were together they had been best friends. Not to mention how horrible it would be—and how guilty Robert would feel—if Laura and Klara were collateral. He’d seen that happen before, and he’d be damned if he let it happen to his girls.
Though still in Spain for the sake of the children, Anna took them to a new town about an hour and a half away; which was something Robert had no problem with. Tabloids ate divorces up more than anything, no matter how “dramatic” it was—both of them knew that.
Robert missed Laura and Klara dearly, and so he FaceTimed them everyday without fail; nothing would keep him from that sans critical injury or death. Sometimes when Barça played at Camp Nou, Anna would go on holiday with the children and bring them to the match. Then the four of them would get dinner before they made the journey back home.
Robert always offered Anna one of his guest bedrooms, especially since the girls always stayed with him, but it was only once in a blue moon that she accepted—she preferred staying with friends or checking into a luxury hotel.
Tonight happened to be one of those rare occasions.
The children were asleep upstairs while the two of them sat on his patio, glasses of cabernet in hand, enjoying the cool summer evening. After a long, comfortable silence, she finally spoke.
“You’re in love with the kid, aren’t you?” Anna asked. It sounded far more like a statement than a question.
Had Robert not spent more than a decade dealing with the media, he probably would’ve flinched.
“With who?” he asked, despite knowing damn well who.
“That fiery little midfielder you’re always talking about,” she said, taking another measured sip of her wine. “Gavi, isn’t it?”
Robert’s grip tightened around the stem of his glass, so hard it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. He closed his eyes, drew a slow breath, then let it out. “He’s like a son to me,” he said evenly.
The lie tasted like ash on his tongue.
Anna reached across the table and rested her hand gently over his. “We both know that isn’t true.”
Robert sighed. “Anna…”
“I know what you look like when you’re in love, Robert,” she said softly. “You look at him the same way you used to look at me—and the same way I used to look at you.”
For some reason, those words made Robert want to cry. “He’s a child,” he protested weakly.
Anna slowly grabbed the bottle and refilled both their glasses. “Robert,” she said with a sigh of her own. “No professional football player has ever truly been a child.”
Robert huffed a wry laugh as he took a sip of his drink—because wasn’t that the truth. Hell, it was more of a shock to hear that a player didn’t join a youth academy the second they hit double digits. Fermín joining La Masia at thirteen was considered late, for Christ’s sake.
Especially when you take into consideration the other players on their team from the academy. Gavi and Pau joined when they were eleven, and Lamine joined at seven. Hell, Marc joined at six.
Just as soon as he had the thought did Robert regret it—the reminder of their age difference was a slap in the face.
Gavi joined Barça’s youth academy the same year Robert was breaking Bundesliga records at Bayern.
“How obvious am I?” he asked her suddenly.
Anna placed her chin in her hand. “Why do you ask?”
Robert stared at her incredulously. “What do you mean why do I ask?” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s because he’d feel pressured to be with me if he knew how I felt.”
And he would feel pressured, that Robert knew for certain.
Anna hummed. “That boy doesn’t really seem like the type to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
That was true. Most of the time, at least. “He’d do anything to please me.”
Robert was well aware of how unjustifiably conceited the sentiment made him sound, but that didn’t make it any less true.
He saw the way his boy’s face lit up whenever he saw Robert, and the way he always listened and followed his instructions. He would always put his best foot forward whenever Robert corrected him—and he always looked at Robert as if he held all the answers of the universe.
Anna laughed. “And don’t you wonder why that is?”
It was because Gavi soaked in praise like a sponge, and getting it from a successful, fellow footballer that he admired was something special. Nothing more nothing less.
When he said as much, Anna rolled her eyes at him. “Please know that what I’m about to say is being said with every ounce of love I still hold for you” —Robert recognized that tone; not once in their relationship had anything good ever from it— “you aren’t the best player any of those kids have ever been on the pitch with.”
“Thank you,” he deadpanned despite being in complete agreement. “Is there a point to this?”
Anna rolled her eyes again. “I’m trying to say that nobody else on that team looks at you with any emotion even close to the way he does.”
Robert was really beginning to feel wrong footed—this conversation was going ridiculously off-topic.
“What are you trying to say?” he asked. “That Gavi has a “celebrity crush” on me? I know that already, Anna.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She sighed. “I’m saying he’s in love with you. There’s a difference.”
Robert wondered what Anna would do if he reached over and drank straight from the bottle. He settled on finishing it in one swig and filling it back up to the rim. After a second of deliberation, he topped off her glass as well. “I thought this was about the way I feel for him.”
“So you admit you do admit that you feel something for him,” she said.
“I technically never denied it,” he said, though the validity of it rested on shaky ground. “But would it even matter if I did?”
She made an offended noise. “I just told you that it did!”
It was Robert’s turn to sigh. “Anna, listen to me.”
“There’s nothing you could say to make me think other—” she started to say.
“Please, Anna.”
She must have heard the genuine desperation in his voice, because she fell silent and looked at him.
“Gavi is twenty. I’m thirty six,” he told her, voice tight. “I don’t think you understand how horrible that sounds. How horrible that is.”
She looked up at the sky and worried her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly doing some mental math. “Okay, so you joined the team when he was what—seventeen? Eighteen?”
Was she trying to get Robert to jump off the roof? “Anna.”
“Probably eighteen,” she concluded, continuing as if Robert hadn’t even spoken. “But when did you start falling for him? That’s the more important question.”
Robert felt conflicted. Anna’s eyes softened. “Robert, we’d both fallen out of love years before our divorce. I won’t be hurt if you started falling for him while we were still married. I won’t judge you no matter what, okay?”
“You were always too good for me,” he blurted.
The smile on her face was one he hadn’t seen in years—one he hadn’t even realized he missed. “You don’t need to tell me that,” she teased him. “I already knew.”
He laughed; he felt the slightest bit lighter, despite everything. It was silent for a while before Robert finally found the courage to speak up.
“I think I was doomed from the start,” he admitted, shame audible in his voice. “But it wasn’t until after our divorce that I actually…”
Unsure of how to continue, he trailed off. Anna seemed content to let him find his words, but spoke up once it became clear he had no intention of continuing. “You actually…”
He squared his shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “It wasn’t until after our divorce that I allowed myself to admit it,” he confessed. “But I think I always knew.”
Anna considered this. “I’ve never really been the type of person to offer anyone but Laura and Klara false reassurances…” she began.
Robert laughed. “That I know.”
She gave a quiet laugh of her own before continuing. “So trust me when I tell you that kid loves you. Deeply,” she said. “You’re being blind on purpose.”
“How do you figure?” he asked.
“Ferran Torres and Pedri López,” she deadpanned.
Robert blinked. “What?” he asked. Then: “Also, if you know my teammates names then you didn’t need to act so effusive when bringing up Gavi.”
Anna scoffed. “The girls and I still watch all of your matches, Robert, whether in-person or on television.” Robert’s heart felt close to bursting. “Obviously I know their names by now.”
She tucked a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear, and Robert’s fingertips pulsed at the memory of doing the same. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look at another person with as much love as Pedri does when he looks at Ferran.” A beat of silence. “Until I saw the way Gavi looks at you—and realized it was the exact same way. There’s no way you haven’t noticed, unless you’re purposefully not noticing.”
Robert smothered the brief rush of hope down hard. He took a sip of his drink and let silence fall over them for a minute.
He wasn’t entirely sure if his next words were caused by the amount of alcohol catching up to him or simply the vulnerability of it all, but he still asked: “It really doesn’t bother you?”
She stared at him, considering. “What, that you’re in love with him?”
There was no point in denying that four letter word anymore, so Robert caved. “Yes,” he acquiesced with a sigh. “That I’m in love with him.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he grimaced—he’d never actually said the words out loud before.
Anna rolled her eyes again. “Is this what happens when you drink these days?” she asked. “You turn into a mess of self-pity and insecurity?”
Robert couldn’t find it in himself to feel offended; especially since she wasn’t exactly wrong. “No, I simply get more realistic. It comes with age.”
And with that last word he started spiraling.
“Okay, snap out of it,” Anna said suddenly, bringing him back to the moment. “What new reason have you conjured up to put yourself off of telling him?”
Robert dodged the question with a question of his own.
“How can you possibly be okay with this?” he asked again, his voice shaky. He slumped down in his chair and covered his face with his hands. “Nobody should be okay with this.”
Anna blinked. “Does that really matter? You’ve never—”
Robert cut her off. “Let’s say Gavi and I did start a relationship. Can you imagine what would happen to him if the world found out?”
Of course, it would be just as disastrous for Robert himself—if not more so—but that hardly mattered. He would be more than willing to endure whatever came his way if it meant keeping his boy safe. He’d sacrifice everything, save for his children, before he’d ever allow that kind of scrutiny to fall on Gavi.
“We'd never be able to go on dates, or do any of the things people his age are supposed to do when they're in love. Everything would have to happen behind closed doors.” He let out a weary sigh. “The only future I could give him is one spent hiding beside a man old enough to be his father. That's not a life that would make him happy.”
God, all he wanted was for Gavi to be happy.
Anna reached across the small table and gently pulled one of his hands away from his face.
“But that's the thing,” she said. “How could you possibly know that?”
That was probably the cruelest part of it all. Objectively speaking, Anna was right. There was no way for him to know whether he could make Gavi happy if he never gave either of them the chance to find out.
And yet—
“You’ll never know if you don’t try, Robert. Just think about it, okay?” she continued softly. “Goodnight.”
Then she was gone, leaving Robert alone.
He closed his eyes—and he thought.