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Instantly, the confusion on Adler’s face transforms into anger. “You’re what?”
“It’s been going on for a while now, and I didn’t tell you because I was worried this is exactly how you’d react.” I wave toward his face.
Adler huffs. “Sophia, he’s?—”
“I know exactly who he is, Adler. He is a good person.”
“He’s also conceited and impulsive and?—”
“This isn’t a debate. I’m telling you as my brother, not the captain of FC Kluvberg. I expect you to be happy for me, for us, and if you’re not, then you and I aren’t going to have a whole lot to talk about anymore.”
Adler looks shocked. “You can’t seriously?—”
“Remember how I reacted when you met Saylor? I was happy for you. I got to know her.”
He rubs a hand across his mouth, like he’s trying to keep choice words inside. “She’s my wife, Sophia.”
“You think I’d be telling you this if it wasn’t serious between us? It’s very serious. It’s different with him than it’s been with anyone else. He doesn’t care about my last name. Or that?—”
My brother exhales. “Sophia, that isn’t?—”
“Let me finish. That’s not the only reason why I’m with him. But most guys have cared. They’ve wanted to meet you. Or they’ve been jealous of you and tried to use me to?—”
Adler’s gaze sharpens. “Use you to what?”
I say nothing. I didn’t mean to mention Ansel. He wasn’t supposed to be any part of this conversation. I decided I’d never tell Adler what happened a long time ago.
“Use you to what?” he pushes, sensing I’m holding something back.
“There was a guy who…he pursued me because he wanted to hurt you. It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.”
“It was Ansel Fischer, wasn’t it?”
I swallow. Nod. “Yes.”
“And you told Will. That’s why he went after him nonstop when we played Manchester.”
“Yes,” I admit.
A little of the anger dissipates from Adler’s expression. He looks more contemplative than mad. Realizing I confided in Will about what happened with Ansel, that Will took it upon himself to dole out some revenge—that seems to have given Adler more pause than anything else I’ve said. Maybe it’s a footballer thing, because I wouldn’t have guessed that would matter.
“I love him,” I say. “And I know you love me. So, I need you to let this be. Did I tell you that you were making a mistake when you chased after Saylor? Did I judge you when you were stumbling out of clubs with models? Trust that I know what I’m doing. And don’t let this affect anything related to the team. My relationship with him has nothing to do with Will as a soccer player. It’s his career. It’s important to him. He loves it like you and Saylor do.”
My brother studies me for long, long minutes. Finally, one eyebrow lifts. “You call it soccer now?”
I might be blushing a little. “I played,” I tell Adler impulsively. “Will brought me to this park by his mom’s House. It’s where he learned to play. It was…fun.”
The last time I played football was here, with my brother. There was a very narrow window before Adler started taking it too seriously, before he—and I—understood the expectations, where we would kick a ball around together.
“Okay.”
I exhale, a rush of relief.
“I will do my best to…accept this. And to only threaten Aster a couple of times.”
“No threats.”
He shakes his head twice. “Never thought you’d date a footballer.”
