Epilogue
ISABELLA
FOUR YEARS LATER
“ M om!” A loud screech is immediately followed by the slamming of a bedroom door. “Keep Nico outta my room!”
I sigh as Camila stomps down the stairs. I hear her huffing as she rounds the corner into the kitchen, where I’m quietly preparing dinner. Looking over my shoulder, I see my furious daughter, holding her favorite white sweater. Well, a sweater that used to be white.
“Oh dear,” I murmur, logging the lovely colored lines that have been drawn all over one side of the fabric. Without looking, I can already assume my permanent markers, locked in an upper cabinet, will be gone. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Mom,” Camila whines, tears cresting her eyelids. “I wanted to wear this Monday for picture day at school. Why does he always go for my stuff?”
What I’d like to say is that Camila’s room is a disaster, and it’s easy to destroy things when they’re left on the floor. Or that Camila leaves her door open, instead of shutting it and using the child lock we installed for this very reason .
“Your brother loves you so much, baby girl,” I tell her quietly instead.
It’s not a lie. From the moment he was born, Nico Sebastian Garcia only had eyes for his big sister.
For the weeks that we suffered through horrendous colic, and the nights where cutting molars was excruciating, only Camila could settle Nico down.
A loud scoff. “I know he loves me, Mom. But I don’t want him in my room.”
“Then lock the door,” I say, aggravation evident in my tone as I clench my teeth.
My sweet and affectionate son crawled at five months, walked at eight months, and scaled the kitchen counters before his first birthday. He mastered riding a two-wheel bicycle on his third birthday, and has absolutely no fear about heights, speeds, or anything that normal children worry about.
My mother-in-law tells me Nico is exactly like Sebastian, which is only mildly infuriating.
“ Naranja ? Nico is on the roof again.”
As I’m kneading dough to make dinner rolls, I shout back. “That’s your DNA, Sebastian. You deal with it!”
I smile when I hear Sebastian’s loud laughter, but he doesn’t disagree with me. My brothers were wild, but even my parents say Nico takes it up a notch.
While Nico was a pleasant surprise, my pregnancy definitely threw a minor kink in our overall plans.
With Sebastian owning two bars, he made the tough decision to hand over the reins of his original location, choosing instead to work from the Eternity Springs bar.
Pregnancy did a number on my body, and I was forced to hire a store manager to oversee much of the bakery’s day-to-day operations.
Ava helped out when she could, but I was clear that I wanted her to focus her time on her college classes.
I’ve never been one to complain about the early morning wake-up that comes with owning a bakery, but pregnancy was a level of exhaustion I could not fight. I was either at work or asleep, and sometimes both simultaneously.
The hormones were ridiculous. Why did I need to have cystic acne cover my back? Hair on my chest? My nose grew like some fucked up version of Pinocchio. And the mood swings? Astronomically bad. It’s a wonder Sebastian put up with me, patiently rubbing my back and giving me foot massages.
But worst of all was the fact that the concept of “morning” sickness was lost on me, as I had nonstop nausea. It also stayed the entire pregnancy. Needless to say, I was relieved when we found out Nico was a boy, because it meant we had a daughter and a son. Pregnancy just isn’t for me.
“Momma.” Looking over my right shoulder, I find my little boy, held tightly in his father’s arms. His normally dark skin is even darker with what appears to be a layer of mud.
Nico’s beautiful face, normally a carbon copy of Sebastian’s, is in an adorable pout as he stares at me defiantly. “I mad at Daddy.”
“You’re mad at Daddy? Why?” I ask.
He harrumphs. “Cuz he said no more roof time.”
Sebastian’s lips twitch as he stifles a smile. “Why did I say you aren’t allowed on the roof anymore, Nico?”
Another harrumph as Nico crosses his arms. “Cuz it’s not safe.”
“Those weren’t the exact words I used, Mijo .”
Nico sighs. “Cuz I can’t fly.”
“That’s right,” Sebastian says with a nod. “Your feet need to be on solid ground. Or in a building with flooring beneath you. Not on a roof, where you might fall and hurt yourself.”
We have learned to be specific with Nico, who, even at the tender age of three, has figured out how to circle around our words.
We now have to specifically state he needs to go to his room, get into his bed, and go to sleep.
Otherwise, he’ll say we only said to go to his room, which means he can play in there.
Technically, he isn’t breaking the rules that way.
Nico’s lip trembles as his eyes dart between me and Sebastian. “I like da roof.”
“I know you do,” Sebastian coos. “But it isn’t safe, especially now that I know there are raccoons getting up there.”
“Raccoons?” I shriek in excitement. “Did you see them? Where? Can we put a camera up there? I want to see!”
“See? Mommy like dem too,” Nico snaps in frustration.
Sebastian gives me an exasperated look. “Could we cool it on how much we encourage the pipsqueak, please?”
Whoops.
I hear a commotion and see Nico slide down Sebastian’s body so he can run to me. Turning, I squat down next to him, and I’m hit with a horrendous smell. “What have you gotten into, sweetheart?”
Nico shrugs. “Dirt on da roof.”
I look up to Sebastian, and he nods. “Not dirt. I definitely need to clean the gutters, but the raccoons also appear to be using the roof as their bathroom. I believe he managed to get into both before I got to him.”
My head swivels back to my child, horror filling my blood as I realize Nico is literally covered in shit and God knows what else. “You need to take a bath right now.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Momma, no.”
I sigh exasperatedly. “If you take a bath right now, you can have a lollipop before dinner.”
He smiles sweetly, but I see the victorious look in his eyes. Nico hates taking a bath, but a barter was necessary. “Go take a bath. ”
“I want a cherry sucker,” he replies, gleefully skipping past Sebastian to the staircase. “Come, Daddy!”
“Demanding little bugger,” Sebastian mutters, leaning down to absentmindedly kiss the top of my head. “When does the window guy come out to put the child locks on all the windows and doors?”
I sigh. “In three days.”
The amount of child-proofing we’ve had to do in our house is absurd.
Multiple locks on every door, upper cabinet locks, all chemicals in a spot Nico can’t access, and medications in a box with a keypad.
Nico understands the concept of the word “no,” but his curiosity takes over his impulse control way too often.
He wants to know how everything works. Natalie has encouraged me to talk to our pediatrician about ADHD, but I haven’t done it yet.
He’s only three. Even if he is diagnosed, the only thing we can really do at this point in his development is add occupational therapy.
I want to wait a little longer, and let Nico be a kid, before we start the stress of doctors, potential specialists, and therapists.
I don’t like the idea of medicating my preschooler, and I’ve been researching more natural ways to help his activity and focus.
Not surprisingly, Nico hasn’t taken too kindly to the changes.
“Thank fuck,” Sebastian breathes. “This kid is running me ragged.”
Don’t I know it.
There were many nights when Nico was an infant that Sebastian and I were still able to enjoy our time together.
Sure, we were tired. But a quick orgasm or two was a nice culmination to a busy family day.
Now, however, we’re both so damn exhausted by bedtime.
We want to have sex, but neither of us has the energy.
Fortunately, Sebastian’s parents take both Nico and Camila every Saturday night, with the expectation that we have a date night .
I’m sure they’d rather not know that we rarely leave the house, and a lot of times, Sebastian basically attacks me before the kids are even buckled into their car seats.
Tonight is a Saturday night, but the kids are with us later than normal.
Sebastian’s grandmother had some kind of event she wanted to attend in Denver, and she dragged my grandmother with her.
Because no one in either family trusts two octogenarians to drive down the mountain to Denver, Sebastian’s parents took them.
“When will Abuelito and Abuelita be here to get us?” Camila asks as I finish rolling out my dough balls, covering them with a dish towel so they can rise, and begin focusing on the sauce for my pasta dish.
“In an hour or so. Abuela wanted to stay at her craft thing a little longer.”
“What craft thing?” Camila asks.
“Cross-stitch, I believe.”
She scoffs. “ Abuela doesn’t cross-stitch. Does Nonna ?”
I laugh as I shake my head. “ Nonna only gets crafty if someone forces her to. She has never been interested in sewing or stitching of any kind.”
“Why’d she go?” Camila asks.
I shrug. “Because your great-grandmother asked her to. I’m sure that they both had a great time, regardless of the topic. I have no doubt they enjoyed antagonizing Abuelito the entire time.”
Camila giggles. “ Abuelita probably encouraged it.”
Now ten, Camila is growing up to be a beautiful young lady.
She’s already showing interest in following in Natalie’s footsteps into elementary education.
She loves the opportunity to watch her younger cousins whenever possible, and she asks a lot of questions about what life is like for a teacher.
As she’s getting ready to head into middle school, I’m so damn proud of how empathetic, intelligent, and loving she is.
She may get irritated by her brother from time to time, but I have no doubt she’d be ready to throw down for him if needed.