1. ISABELLA
one
“Buenos días, Mami.” I press a quick kiss on my mother’s cheek and dart out of her reach before she has the chance to poke me with whatever cleaning weapon she has at her disposal. Dominican mothers, especially Claribel Morales, have a way of getting creative with the greetings they give their children. I would drop dead if my mother hugged me and said, “Good morning, sweetie.” I’m much more accustomed to the disgruntled mumblings about how back in her heyday, she would have to walk seven miles to a convenience store or ride a burro to school.
I’m pretty sure only one of those is a lie.
Essentially, I’m usually greeted with a dash of grump and a heavy serving of attitude. All in love, of course. Because my immigrant parents tend to show their love through acts of service, not words of affirmation. At least that’s what my many years of therapy have taught me to understand.
So color me surprised when my mother simply smiles at me, and says, “Hola, mija. Any plans for today?”
I halt midway to grab an apple from the kitchen and spin on my heel, eyes narrowed. “What’s going on? Are you sick? Did Abuela die?” My voice hitches as I run through the potential scenarios that would cause my mom to give me such a calm greeting.
My mom’s shoulders drop as she rolls her eyes. “?Viste? This generation talks about wanting gentle parenting, pero when I do it…” She waves the rest of her comment away in mock annoyance.
Suspicion laces my voice as I say, “So, you were trying to ‘gentle parent’ me, a woman in her mid-twenties?”
“Mira, I didn’t read the whole article you sent me the other day, okay? So I didn’t know there was an age cutoff. I just wanted to talk to you about something.” I gesture for her to go on, which is unusual in and of itself, since the woman can carry a whole conversation on her own. “So, Mateo is still looking for a nanny, and Anna is starting school soon—”
“ Mami .” I groan. Not this again.
My mother has been trying to get me to nanny full time for her best friend’s son ever since I stepped in to nanny for a few days during a New Year’s Eve trip down in the Dominican Republic. Mateo’s mom had to cancel at the last minute due to a medical procedure. But Anna had been looking forward to quality time with her dad before things got busy, so calling off the trip was a no-go. Mateo still had vital work calls scheduled, therefore he needed part-time child care. Which was me, in a pool chair lounger, tanning while judging a five-year-old’s underwater handstands. Truly living the dream.
But that was a onetime gig.
I have my own job to think about. Even though it’s a far cry from my dream job.
Because I’ll be honest, working as an assistant librarian at the New York Public Library isn’t exactly lining my pockets. It’s more like a pity volunteer position with a tiny stipend. But it allows me to be surrounded by books. And more importantly, book covers.
Ever since I fell down the rabbit hole of collecting paperback copies of my favorite books, I’ve rediscovered my love for graphic design. When I have a free moment in the library, I can be found creating an alternative cover for my latest read. And while some may consider my hobby glorified doodling, I think of it as a potential career path. If I can finally get my online book cover design business off the ground, I would be the happiest human on the planet.
I work under a pseudonym and use an illustrated profile pic for privacy reasons. Unfortunately, the pipeline of book cover requests is mighty dry at the moment over at Bella Covers. Which is probably why my mom keeps needling me to take the job as a nanny for Mateo.
The problem is that Mateo is Mateo Martinez, a.k.a. the starting pitcher of the New York Monarchs and probably one of the most talented and famous athletes of our generation.
So yeah, big fucking deal.
Our moms have been best friends for almost a decade, yet besides the New Year’s Eve trip, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve met him in person. Mostly by my own design, but that’s partly due to the tiny bit of self-preservation in me that’s still activated.
Because, you see, Mateo isn’t just impressive on the baseball field.
Nope, God clearly has favorites.
He’s also insanely attractive. Like wipe the drool off your chin hot. And it only gets worse when you see him interact with his daughter. The man has heart eyes when it comes to her, and it turns the entire human population into putty in his hands.
And that’s great if you’re into really tall men with muscles designed to throw balls close to one hundred miles per hour. Men with short, brown hair and light hazel eyes. Along with a plump bottom lip and straight white teeth designed for toothpaste commercials. And while we’re at it, let’s not forget the perfectly trimmed beard that must be tended to by the people who keep the Versailles garden impeccable. I have seen that man up close and in HD, and not a single hair is out of place, not even an ingrown in sight.
Ugh, I can’t believe I’ve stooped low enough to wish an ingrown hair on someone’s face.
But truth be told, even if he didn’t have a reserved exterior when it came to everyone besides his mother and his daughter, and if he were certifiable enough to bypass all the stunning women on the planet who would gladly throw themselves at his feet, then decide that I, Isabella, were someone he would be interested in… yeah it would still be a hard no for me.
Because not only have I sworn off men, but even more so a specific breed.
Baseball players .
“Isabella Marie Morales. Por favor, no seas tan dramática.” My mother disrupts my thoughts. “Just give it a chance, for Anna’s sake. You know that Bethzaida can no longer run after her after she got that hip replacement that made her miss the New Year’s Eve trip. And Anna is starting school for the very first time. La pobrecita, she must be so excited and nervous.”
The mention of Anna makes me smile, because she is quite possibly the funniest kid I’ve ever met. I swear, if we were the same age, we’d be best friends.
The thought quickly sours in my stomach and makes me feel pathetic, since a kindergartener is the coolest person I’ve hung out with in a while.
“And all the perks, Isa. You know that man will be paying a pretty penny for whoever takes care of his little girl.”
“Mami, it’s not always about the money,” I grumble as I take a bite out of an organic apple, one that I most certainly did not pay for when I went grocery shopping with my mom earlier this week.
Mami stares at my apple as if she’s recalling that fact as well, then continues. “Are you listening to me? That little girl will be going to school, so for eight hours a day, you will be getting paid for doing absolutely nothing. Plus, we’re already in August. The season ends in October, and that’s only if they make it to the World Series.”
I slow my chewing as I think that nugget over. Eight hours of uninterrupted paid alone time means I’d have time to dedicate to my book cover design business and work on marketing myself better, as well as work on premade covers.
I try to keep my face impassive as my mom stares me down. I know she’s capable of sniffing out any scent of interest, and I’m not ready to show her my cards quite yet.
She finally turns her head and gives a sigh worthy of a telenovela award. “Okay, well, I tried.” My mom starts spraying down the counter in front of her. “I guess you really must love living here with your Papi and me. I mean, I really can’t blame you. We are fun to be around.” She begins to wipe down the counter like she doesn’t have a single care in the world until she spins quickly, facing me. “Although, if I were you, I would jump at the chance to live in a beautiful high-rise apartment that overlooks Central Park and is within walking distance of all your favorite restaurants…” She dreamily looks up at the ceiling.
I look up as well, wondering if there’s a mystery stain up there I should be worried about, until I realize I have no idea what she was referring to. “Why would I suddenly be living in a fancy apartment by Central Park?”
My mother’s smile unfurls slowly as she tilts her head. “Oh, did I forget to mention that the job comes with your own room in their apartment? Well, practically a whole floor since their rooms are on the second floor and the guest room is on the first.” She nods to herself. “And Mateo would be away half the time anyway. So the lucky person who manages to snag that dream job will not only get paid spectacularly for a few hours of work, but she’ll also get to live in the lap of luxury.”
A tiny squeak escapes my tight-lipped mouth.
Shit .
I’d be lying if I said still waking up in my childhood bedroom while listening to my mother unmercifully blast old-school bachata while vacuuming at an ungodly hour wasn’t making a good argument for me to get off my ass and finally put on my big girl panties.
My resolve is slowly crumbling, but there’s still something holding me back.
My mom moves closer to me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder as her eyes soften.
She knows what’s holding me back.
“This isn’t the same thing, Isa. The world has moved on, and you deserve to as well. You need to start putting yourself first and stop focusing on what others may think about you.”
My eyes threaten to fill with tears, so I quickly hug my mom around her middle while she’s still holding her cleaning supplies.
I release her, then take a step back, nodding. “Okay. I think I can do this.”
She smiles brightly. “Yes, you can do this, mija.”
I continue my bobblehead impersonation as I say, “I can do this. No, better yet, I deserve this. I deserve to give my dreams a chance. And this is an opportunity of a lifetime. I can’t keep letting the trolls win.”
“?Qué diablos are trolls?”
“Never mind. I’m having a moment here, Ma,” I say, sounding a bit out of breath even though I haven’t taken a single step. “I’m gonna reach out to Mateo and let him know that I’m interested in the position. Hopefully, since he knows me, and you, and, well, basically everyone else who knows me, that’ll do for references. Yeah? Cool? No? Please tell me when to stop, Mami.”
“Stop,” she deadpans.
“Okay, thanks, because for a second there, it kinda felt like I was on a runaway train, and you were gonna let me keep on—”
“Isa, cállate la boca and listen to me.”
“Mm-hmm.” I bite down on my lips.
“You’re gonna take a shower, then you’re gonna get dressed. While you’re doing that, I will call Bethzaida and have her put you on Mateo’s visitor list.”
“Wait, visitor list? Why?”
“Because, hija mía. You will go to his apartment today. Now, actually, and ask for that job his mother and I have tirelessly been working on you two to agree on. These kinds of matters are best handled face to face.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and guides me to our small bathroom. “And besides, I have a whole pan of Beth’s flan you can take to him. That man will never turn down his mother’s cooking or sweets.”
I quickly give my mother another squeeze before stepping into the bathroom. “Thank you so much for supporting me, Mami. You’re the best.”
I faintly hear her huff out a “por fin” while I take the world’s fastest shower. I don’t have time to straighten my hair, so I use a bit of my mom’s nice hair product to comb the sides and throw my hair into a high ponytail, letting my curls go wild as I sway my head.
I dress as quickly as a deranged Tasmanian Devil through the apartment, hopping into yesterday’s jeans and accepting the floral blouse my mom hangs in front of my face. I slip my feet into chunky-heeled sandals. The two inches won’t do anything for my five-three frame when I come face to face with Mateo, but a girl needs a little armor when going into battle.
I grab my purse, and I’m almost out the door when my mom shoves a heavy pan of flan into my arms. “I already ordered you an Uber and texted you their details. They’ll be downstairs in two minutes.” Right. Thank God for my mom, because I don’t even know Mateo’s address. She reaches out and wraps a loose curl around my hair tie. “You got this, Isa. I have a feeling that this will be good for you.” She places a gentle hand on my cheek.
“Thanks, Mami.” I beam. “I love you. Thanks so much for the not-so-subtle push.” I laugh. “And don’t worry. I’m getting this job. I can feel it in my bones.” I raise the flan to my head and smile widely. “Besides, who can say no to this face?”