Chapter 10
“Ah good, you’re back,” George says when Xavier returns to the table. “I wanted to wait until the wedding for this, but since you two can’t set a date yet and don’t even know when you’ll be in the same country, I thought, why not now?”
Her mom reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Bianca with a flourish.
Bianca’s head tilts in curiosity at it, but she peels open the flap and removes a card. It’s a simple one, something designed by Hallmark for an engagement – flowers and a diamond ring on the cover – but when she opens it . . . what’s inside is not nearly as simple.
A check.
Made out to an amount that looks more like the balance of her student loans from undergrad, plus her master’s and PhD combined.
Holy shit.
That’s a lot of money.
“No,” Bianca says, her face suddenly pale. She’s shaking her head back and forth. “I can’t . . . I couldn’t possibly . . .”
“It’s your inheritance,” George says, waving a hand in the air like it’s nothing, like he’s giving her a weekly allowance as a kid. “We want you to have it now, while we’re still around to see you enjoy it.”
Her mom reaches across the table and places a hand on her arm. “It’s not just for you, Bianca. We did this for Lexi with the house when she got married and we put the same amount away for you for this day.”
“What . . . day exactly?” Bianca asks carefully.
“When you decided to settle down, start a life . . .”
“This is . . . I . . . I don’t know what to say . . . I . . . This is too much . . .”
She’s going to scream or cry or throw up her guts. Right here at the table, in front of everyone, in front of Xavier, and she just cannot.
“It’s no more than you deserve. We’re so happy for you,” her dad says, his smile wide and proud, eyes a little glassy.
“I . . . I . . . Excuse me . . .” she says and she’s up and out of her seat, striding out of the room like a bullet.
She pushes through the front doors, out into the warm air, the scent of delicious Greek fare replaced by asphalt and car exhaust.
Fuck.
Inhaling, she tries to keep her breathing slow and even as she marches down the street toward the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard.
Maybe she’ll just walk home. It did her a world of good the other night when she got out of Izzy’s car.
Maybe a nice long walk will make this gut-churning nausea disappear.
“B!” a voice calls behind her. “Bianca, c’mon, slow down. Bianca!”
Lexi’s legs are way longer than hers and she’s wearing sensible flats and she’ll catch up to her easily enough, so Bianca just stops and braces herself for impact.
“I really don’t want to hear it, Lex, so just—” she starts, turning to face her big sister.
But Lexi cuts her off. “First, tell me something. Are you okay?”
“What?” Bianca blinks in confusion.
“Are you okay?” Lexi repeats.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine. What was that back there?”
“Did you . . . did you see . . . it was . . . it was so much money. Money that they were just . . . never going to give to me if I never got married?”
“You don’t know that.”
“I think I do. I think they were saving it for now or until I just got old enough that they, I don’t know, lost hope?”
“So . . . what do you want to do? Do you want to go back in there and tell them that?”
“No, I don’t want to make a scene, not in Theíos’s restaurant. I just . . .” She trails off, clearly at a loss.
“You don’t have to take the money.”
“I’d be an idiot to not take the money.”
“And you’re the opposite of an idiot.”
“I feel like one right now.”
“You’re not. Take the money. Like they said, they did the same thing for us when we got married.”
“It’s not even about the money. I’m grateful for it.
I really am. It’s actually life-changing.
That’s not the problem. It’s that they don’t seem to understand me and I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.
You see how fucked up it is, right? That they didn’t think to offer it up for grad school or my doctorate? ”
Lexi shrugs helplessly. “You know Mom and Dad. They’re old school. It didn’t occur to them.”
Bianca doesn’t know what to say to that. Lexi’s right. She’s not going to change her parents. They love her, but even if she explained to them why she was so upset, they still wouldn’t understand.
“You don’t have to spend it on a wedding, you know.”
“I’m sure they’d love that.”
“They’re giving it to you. It’s your money. You could invest it? Buy a house or a condo or something? Pay off your loans?”
“It’s a lot . . . probably . . . all of the above?
Is it . . . am I insane to be pissed that they even let me take the loans in the first place?
Like they knew I was putting myself into potentially debilitating debt and they just .
. . let me, while that money sat in the bank until l found some random dude who’d give me a ring? ”
“I think you can be grateful and pissed at the same time,” Lexi assures her. “And he’s not just some random dude, is he?”
Bianca’s shoulders deflate. But then, over Lexi’s shoulder, he’s there, standing just outside the restaurant doors, chatting with Nico. He catches her eye and she’s too far away to see him clearly, but she can imagine the concern in his eyes and the tight, unsure smile he’d send her way.
“No, no, he’s not,” she agrees.
Lexi turns to see what’s caught her attention and then laughs, shaking her head. “You two go. I’ll deal with Mom and Dad.”
She starts walking back toward the restaurant and Bianca follows, watching as Nico jogs down the block and around the corner, probably to go grab Xavier’s car. Seems like he had the same idea.
“What are you going to tell them?”
“That you weren’t feeling well and that you were overwhelmed by their generosity and it was just too much.”
Bianca nods. “Okay, yeah. Yeah.”
“Just text them later to let them know you’re feeling better.”
“I will.”
Lexi leans in, just before they reach Xavier, and pulls her into a quick hug, then whispers, “You’re sure you’re okay, B? If you’re not, you can just come home with us and I promise I won’t pry or anything.”
“I’m okay.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Lexi gives her one last squeeze and a long look that seems skeptical, but then with a nod to Xavier, she disappears back inside.
They stand in silence for a moment and then another, seconds ticking by as it grows more and more awkward between them. She has no idea what to say and neither, it seems, does he.
“Lexi’s gonna make our excuses.”
“Oh,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, I already told them you weren’t feeling well before we came and that we might go home.”
“Good instinct. What’s that?” she asks, nodding toward the small package in his hand, tied neatly inside a plastic bag.
“Rizogalo.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Peter had some wrapped up for you and he . . . I think he thinks you’re pregnant?”
Bianca snorts and Xavier gives a soft laugh, and despite everything that happened tonight, or maybe because of it, it has her stomach flipping in ways that have nothing to do with some rice pudding. Not really.
The silence settles between them as Nico pulls the car around. It’s easy and comfortable to just stand here with him.
“Thanks, kiddo,” she says, giving him a hug goodbye and slipping a fifty-dollar bill into his palm. “For pizza and beer.”
“Thanks, cuz,” he says and presses a kiss to her cheek. He tosses the keys to Xavier before opening the passenger door for her to slide into the Jeep.
Once they’re in the car, Xavier hands her the rice pudding and pulls away.
“I need to ask you something,” he says as they pull out onto the street, “but before I do, I want you to know that whatever your answer is, that’s fine with me.”
“That’s ominous,” she mutters, turning toward him as much as her seatbelt will allow.
“Are you . . . are you sure you want to keep this up?”
“You mean . . .”
“The engagement,” he finishes for her. “This is serious stuff; your parents just gave you a shit ton of money and it’s because they think we’re getting married, and fuck . . .”
“Do you want to call it off?”
She watches as his hands shift against the steering wheel, fingers tightening, then loosening and then tightening again.
“No, no, I don’t. Not if . . . not if you want to keep it up. I just . . . I just had to check.”
“I appreciate that,” she says, “but no, I don’t want to call it off.”
He doesn’t ask her why and thank God for that, because she doesn’t have an answer, not one that has anything to do with the lesson she’s supposedly teaching her friends and family.
“Okay,” he says, his grip loosening again and staying loose. “Okay. Your parents said that they’ll call you when they get back home tomorrow, by the way.”
She just hums a response and then they drive in mostly silence back to her apartment.
She doesn’t want to rehash what just happened.
She doesn’t even want to think about it.
When they get back, she kicks off her shoes, moves into the kitchen in her bare feet, grabs a spoon from the drawer, immediately cracks open the container of rice pudding and dives right in.
Her eyes drift shut as she lets out a soft moan around the spoon. “That’s good shit, right there.”
“I don’t get to try?” he asks, coming up behind her.
She scoops some up and holds it out to him. “Here,” she says, but he doesn’t take it from her, just leans down and wraps his mouth around the spoon.
As he pulls away, he groans in satisfaction. “You’re right. That’s amazing.” He stares down at her and then clears his throat before looking away. “You want a glass of wine? Or something. I want a glass of wine.”
“Uh, sure.”