Chapter Thirty-five Bianca
Chapter Thirty-five
Bianca
Bianca breathed in the fresh morning air, cool against her face. The birds greeted her with soft morning chirps. A gentle breeze blew through her hair. She decided to run today—or rather, slow jog. She wanted to get her heart pumping, but she was careful not to overdo it.
She was feeling good about her future. Not everything had come full circle, but it was getting there.
She jogged steadily, the wind pressing against her skin as she picked up the pace toward Joie.
As she passed the sign, she glanced up, and her heart swelled with pride for Remi, who’d followed her dream and built something meaningful, lasting, in spite of everything.
Even when the odds were against her, she beat them.
And she felt pride for Mila too—her logo displayed prominently on a winery in Napa Valley.
That was no small accomplishment, and one she should be proud of.
She smiled as she rounded the corner near the Ortiz Vineyard, the vines stretching beneath the early morning light.
The sun had just started to peek through the clouds.
Saying goodbye to the girls would be bittersweet.
The summer had held with it so many moments—painful ones, joyful ones—all of them meaningful.
All of them were a part of her story now.
She slowed down. Her jog became a brisk walk.
Her breath came harder than she’d expected, so she winded down to catch it, get her rhythm back.
Her Puma sneakers hit the pavement in a rhythm of their own.
In her ears Phillip Lester’s acoustic guitar strummed a soft Spanish melody that soothed her.
She could feel the muscles in her legs strengthening each day.
Her lungs were steadier. She was becoming stronger—physically, mentally, emotionally.
She wasn’t there yet, but she was well on her way.
By the time Bianca returned to the house the sun had fully risen.
She smelled coffee and was grateful. She needed a cup.
Mila stood at the stove, barefoot, her curls short but beautiful.
She was flipping pancakes in a skillet, and the smell of bacon filled the kitchen.
A song was playing low on her phone, something soft.
Bianca smiled, wiping sweat from her brow with her sleeve. “Smells good in here.”
Mila looked over her shoulder and grinned. “I figured I’d cook breakfast before Zoe and I got on the road. I made coffee too.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Bianca teased, walking over to pour herself a cup.
They moved around the kitchen in a quiet rhythm. Bianca leaned against the counter, took a sip of her coffee, and looked at Mila. “You know, I’m really proud of you.”
Mila checked the bacon in the oven. “Yeah?”
Bianca nodded. “What you did with that logo. You showed up. You built something really amazing.”
A small smile crept into the corners of Mila’s mouth. Her whole face lit up, and Bianca noticed her beauty like never before. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure I had it in me.”
“Well, you do,” Bianca said. “You always have. And there’s more where that came from. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m gonna miss being here,” Mila admitted, glancing around the house that had welcomed them all for the summer—where memories were made. A place where both pain and joy had coexisted. “But I’m excited about LSU. It’ll be sort of a new beginning for me.”
“I’m excited for you. This new journey of yours,” Bianca said. “You’ll have to make new connections … new friends.”
“I know. But I’m ready.”
“You’ll be fine. And Zoe will be there.”
“Yeah, she will,” Mila said. “I’m excited for you. I still can’t believe you’re staying.”
Bianca looked toward the window. Her heart warmed every time she thought of that house overlooking the bay. It gave her good vibes. “Neither can I. But it feels right. It really does.”
“And I’m glad your health is better. I was really scared when …” She paused, took a deep breath. “When I thought I might lose you.”
Tears brimmed her eyes when she heard Mila’s words. Thought I might lose you. It meant she was hers to lose. To hear Mila claiming her as her mother gave her peace.
“I thought it was over for me.” Saying those words made her chest hurt and deep, dark thoughts come to the forefront of her mind again.
Those thoughts were real. They haunted her in her quiet places.
“And I’m not out of the woods yet. Have to keep testing, just to be sure that the cancer is shrinking, and that it hasn’t spread anywhere else. ”
“That’s tough.”
“Yes, but I’m tougher now,” Bianca said.
She watched as Mila pulled the pan of bacon out of the oven and set it on the granite countertop.
Bianca poured more coffee into her cup. “I know things have been hard between us. But if you ever decide to come back—to Bodega Bay—the house has an extra bedroom. It’s yours whenever you want it.”
Mila poured pancake batter into the skillet. She glanced over at Bianca with a small smile. “I’ll come back,” she said.
Her words brought joy to Bianca’s heart. She needed to hear them. They felt like healing to her soul. Bodega Bay had been where she and Mila had first truly connected, and she hoped it would be the place where they found each other again.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, looked at the text in front of her. It was Harry.
I’m supposed to pick Mila up at the airport this afternoon, but she’s not answering her phone.
Bianca typed: She’s cooking. I’ll have her call you.
The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. Then: How are you doing, Bianca?
She typed: I’m doing great. Getting stronger every day.
Harry replied: That’s great to hear. He was still typing. Then: Bianca, you were right about Jen. She was the one stalking you.
She stood frozen. Her mind jolted back to the very first message she received—the one that had knocked her off course.
The feeling of violation; of intrusion that she’d felt.
Fear had taken over her entire body, made her restless and uneasy.
She had blamed the wrong person for creeping into her dreams, causing her restless nights—when all along it was Harry’s girlfriend.
“Wow.” She whispered it to herself. Then she typed it: Wow!
He replied: I saw the messages on her phone. I’m sorry that you had to endure that. I confronted her, and we are no longer together. I can’t have someone like that around me or my daughter. Then another message appeared: If you want to file charges …
Bianca’s reply came swiftly, with three simple words: I’m over it.
It was true. Bianca really was over it. Sure, she was shocked to find out who was sending the messages, but she’d gotten past all of it. So many things were in the rearview mirror of her life now. She wasn’t looking back anymore. She was bracing for whatever came next.
Just as Mila flipped the last three pancakes, she looked up at Bianca. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Bianca slid her phone into the pocket of her leggings.
Remi and Zoe wandered into the kitchen. Remi rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Something smells wonderful. I knew one of you was down here cooking.”
Bianca lifted her coffee mug with a grin. “It’s all Mila. I’m just an innocent bystander.”
Breakfast had been good—hearty. Their last meal before sending the girls off was one for the books. Mila was becoming a great cook. The four of them savored the meal and then talked about the summer and all they’d been through. They laughed and made promises to spend Thanksgiving together.
“I’d like to try my hand at a Butterball turkey,” Mila said, fork in midair. “And some Creole mac and cheese.”
“Okay,” Remi said. “I’m certainly looking forward to that.”
“I’ll put the rolls in the oven,” Zoe said laughing.
“That’s all you got?” Remi asked teasingly.
“That’s all I got.” Zoe grinned. She had refreshed her cornrows the night before.
“Well, I’ll bring the wine,” Remi said with a smile.
“Of course you will.” Bianca smiled and shook her head. “I think we should incorporate some Cuban dishes. Honor our Cuban heritage.” She looked at Mila.
“I’d like that,” Mila said. “Maybe we can use some of Abuelita’s recipes.”
“For sure. I have some of them.” Bianca smiled. “I’m really excited about Thanksgiving now.”
“Maybe we should do it in Bodega Bay,” Remi suggested. “Break in your new kitchen.”
“That’s a great idea,” Zoe said.
“Maybe we should,” Bianca agreed, smiling widely. She beamed at the thought of her new space. She couldn’t wait to make new memories there.
And Thanksgiving was just around the corner.
Bianca and Remi stood shoulder to shoulder, watching as their babies—their girls—slid into the back seat of a waiting Lyft.
Luggage packed neatly into the trunk, all the things they’d brought to Napa at the beginning of the summer, and the new things they’d picked up along the way—books, vinyl, little pieces of summer.
Their memories were tucked alongside them.
As the Lyft pulled away, moving up the long pathway, past the vineyard and away from the house, they stood still—silently watching.
Just like that, they were gone.
They stood there for a while, long after the car was out of sight, letting the silence settle between them. Bianca took a slow sip of her coffee, which she held in her hand, now lukewarm.
“I think we might be all right. Me and Mila,” she said quietly, eyes still on the road from where the car had disappeared.
“I think you will too. She seems to be loosening up a bit.”
“I’m glad. I hope we’re on an upward trend.”
“Zoe didn’t seem sad at all,” Remi added. “Just waved … like it was easy.”
Bianca gave a soft laugh. “Maybe it was. For them.”
“But for us, not so much.” Remi nudged her gently with her shoulder. “We raised strong girls. This is what it’s supposed to look like, right?”
Bianca finally turned to her, almost glassy-eyed. “Yeah, it’s exactly what it’s supposed to look like.”
A breeze rustled the trees in the front lawn, as they stood for a moment.
Then Remi said, “So … what now?”
Bianca looked back toward the house, the doorway still open, the scent of bacon still lingering in the air.
“I guess we figure out who we are without them around,” she said.
They stepped back inside. Now that the girls were gone, quietness filled the space around them. Remi moved around in the kitchen, collecting empty plates and washing dishes in the sink.
Bianca slipped her hand into the pocket of her leggings and pulled out her phone. She scrolled her contacts until she found the number for her realtor in New Orleans. She needed to get that house on the market—and sooner rather than later.