Chapter 6
Bianca
Carla García is the most stunning bride I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You’re glowing,” Raia Callaway, one of Carla’s closest friends as well as her sister’s sister-in-law (try to figure that one out), gushes.
“Beautiful, Carlita,” her sister Valentina, who is married to Raia’s brother Avery, sniffles, pulling Carla into a gentle hug. Valentina kisses both of her sister’s cheeks, holding her hands tightly.
“Vale,” Carla says, smiling, “don’t make me cry. I don’t want my makeup to run.”
“It’s not going to run from crying. You’re sweating like a sinner in church,” I provide helpfully, fanning my new sister.
Carla laughs, shooting me an appreciative look. “I can always count on you, B.”
“You look beautiful,” I say truthfully, repositioning her in front of an actual fan. “But getting married in Italy in July means we’re all going to be sweating like sinners in church.”
“Or bridesmaids in tulle,” Marlowe García, Carla’s other sister-in-law, provides truthfully, lifting her hair off her neck.
“Sorry about that,” Carla murmurs.
We all laugh.
“We can just drink more prosecco.” I reach for the refilled flutes on a nearby table and pass them out.
“No one is secretly pregnant, right?” Raia asks, glancing around the group.
Marlowe and Valentina, having recently birthed their first children, shake their heads. For some reason, everyone’s gazes fall on me.
My mouth pops open. “Are you guys kidding me? Whose baby would I be pregnant with?”
Raia shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re the only single one among us.”
I laugh but a little twinge twists in my chest. “And, therefore, the most likely to be expecting?”
Carla giggles. “I don’t know why but…yes.”
We all burst into laughter.
Shaking my head, I lift my flute higher and ignore the strange tightness behind my breastbone. “Congratulations, Carla! I am thrilled for you and Luca. And myself. Because I always wanted a sister.”
“Aww,” Marlowe murmurs. “I felt that way when I married Ale too.”
“I can’t believe we’re all here,” Vale admits. “I can’t believe you’re getting married today, Carlita.” She glances around the space and the windows that showcase the rolling hills beyond. “What a beautiful place for this occasion.”
“Cheers, Seven!” Raia lifts her glass higher, noting Carla’s soccer number.
We all clink our flutes. I take a long sip of my prosecco, appreciating the bubbles as they pop on my tongue.
I glance around the circle I’m standing in, at the amazing, talented, beautiful women surrounding me.
I’ve never truly belonged to a sisterhood before but with these women—all connected in some way through friendship, blood, and marriage—I feel like I truly belong.
Even though I don’t actually fit in. As I note their bright eyes and rosy cheeks, each of them desperately in love with their significant others, I doubt I’ll ever find the same type of happily-ever-after. Not because I’m not worth it but I don’t want it.
Each of these women have made huge sacrifices to ensure the success of their relationships.
After Christian’s debilitating letdown, followed by years of being on my own and caretaking for my mama, I finally feel like my place in the world is steady.
I’ve already done the uncertainty of feeling lost and adrift and lonely.
Of being wracked with guilt and shame and what ifs.
What I want now is the unshakeable stability that I provide for myself, on my terms.
A relationship would shake up my peace.
No. I take another sip of my prosecco. I’m happy with my life the way it is. I’m happy to celebrate Carla and Luca’s matrimony without yearning for a wedding of my own.
“You owe me a dance.” My brother extends his hand to me.
“One shot first?” I ask, tilting my head toward the bartender I was just chatting up.
Luca snorts. “Still a wild child at heart.”
“I take credit for every gray hair on your head.”
His hand flies to the top of his head. “I don’t have any grays.”
Laughing, I place my hand in Luca’s and let my big brother lead me to the dance floor.
“Tanti auguri,” I whisper my congratulations in Italian.
“Grazie mille,” he replies as we begin to sway to the music.
“This is my favorite wedding I’ve ever been to.”
Luca’s eyes dart to the dancing couples, his gaze lingering on his bride as she dances with her father.
Above the dance floor, a tent equipped with fans keeps the heat at bay.
Around us, vineyards stretch for kilometers.
Lush green Italian Cypress trees wrap around us along with thousands of twinkling lights.
Long harvest tables, decorated with candelabras and small bouquets of hydrangeas, dot the perimeter of the dance floor.
Luca nods. “Si. Yes. Carla did an amazing job organizing everything.”
“She has exquisite taste.”
My brother laughs. “Is that a compliment, B?”
I beam at Luca, half joking, half serious, when I say, “Just today, since it’s your wedding and all.”
“Grazie.”
We dance in silence, enjoying the moment. The simplicity of being together after months of not seeing each other.
“You sure you don’t want to come home?” Luca asks.
I look up at him, trying to read his expression. “Home meaning here? Or Spain?” While I spent most of my childhood in the United States, Italy is my birthplace and Spain is where my brother has lived most of his life. In different ways, all three countries feel like home.
“Either. Are you really that happy in New York?”
“Yes. I really am. New York is home for me right now. I lived there a lot longer than you.”
He sighs. “I know. I just, I wish you were closer is all.”
“Luca, you have a wife now. Soon, you’ll be building your own family. You—”
“You’ll always be my family, B. No matter what.” He cuts me off, his dark eyes blazing with a severity that is both protective and familiar. My brother has spent his entire life looking out for me.
And, at the expression cutting across his face, some of the tension in my shoulders releases.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m relieved to hear him say the words.
He’s the only family I have. And even though I adore Carla and have never felt anything but welcomed and loved by her family, I know that, logically, things are going to change. They have to.
“I know,” I murmur.
“I mean it, B. No matter where I am, my home is always your home too.”
Sighing, I squeeze Luca’s hand. “Mine too. But for now, I’m happy in New York. I love my job. I like the challenge of it and the fast pace of my day-to-day.”
Luca smirks. “I can’t believe you guys signed Niko Karas to be the face of your next campaign.”
“Why?”
He arches his eyebrows. “The Greek God of Goals?”
“He’s not as cocky as the media makes him out to be. At least, he was pretty chill at the photoshoot.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Plus, I think Stuttgart will humble him a little.”
Luca snorts. “A lot. I’m not sure if the kid used to playing for his hometown is ready for the pressure waiting for him in Germany.”
I shake my head, not wanting to offer any more thoughts on Niko. The last thing I need is my brother thinking I like the soccer star when all we shared was a weekend. “Are you excited for your honeymoon?”
“I can’t wait.” Luca looks for Carla over the top of my head. “I just wish we had more time before preseason training.”
The song comes to an end and Carla appears at my side.
I step away from my brother and lean closer to Carla, pecking her cheek with a quick kiss before Luca draws her into his arms.
As Luca spins Carla away, one of his best friends, Andrés Huntington, slips beside me. He silently takes my hand and brings me out onto the dance floor.
“You don’t like dancing, only singing,” I remind him, grinning up at the half-Spanish, half-Australian futbolista. He plays goalie position for League Valencia and has been part of a trio, along with Luca and Alejandro García, for as long as I can remember.
He’s also been like another big brother to me.
“Yeah, well, every now and then,” Andrés admits, spinning me out before pulling me closer once more. He settles one hand on my lower back, his other hand clasped with mine. “Are you happy to be home?”
“Of course. It’s always good to visit.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I know. It’s been a minute since we’ve chatted too. How are things?” I ask, noting the tightness of his jaw. “Is everything okay?”
Pain blazes through Andrés’ eyes for a flash before he blinks. Then, it’s gone. “Everything is fine. The usual, you know? Fútbol and training and normal life.”
“Yeah, I hear that. I’ve been working long stretches lately too.”
Andrés drops his head, but when he looks back up, his eyes pierce mine. “Do you ever get”—his voice dips—“lonely in the city?”
My eyebrows pull together as I try to decipher the subtext of his question. Is he asking if I have friends in New York? Or if I’m actively seeking out a romantic connection? I err on the side of caution. “I have friends there, Andrés. Good friends.”
“I know that. I just…are you seeing anyone?”
I tilt my head and meet his gaze again. His eyes, a vivid green, darken. “There’s no one serious but…I date.”
“Right,” he says, his voice tight. “Of course.”
“What about you?” I ask, hoping to lighten the conversation. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nah. There’s no one at the moment,” he admits, avoiding my gaze, preferring to look over my shoulder instead. “There never is,” he mutters.
I frown, trying to understand the meaning behind his words.
For a while last year, Andrés and I were pretty close, talking a lot more frequently.
But then, things got busy at work and with the time difference…
well, life happened and we drifted apart.
But… “I’m always here for you. If there’s anything you want to talk about or—oh!
” I break off as Andrés jerks my body to the right before dipping me low.
He pulls me back up and gives me a playful smirk. A familiar grin. “Thanks, B. But I’m all good.”
I study his face for a moment longer, but his expression is unreadable. Carefully guarded.
“If you say so,” I murmur.
“Come on.” He tugs my hand. “Let’s grab a drink.”
“A shot?” I try again since Luca shot me down.
Andrés snorts. “Sure. Tequila?”
“You know the way to my heart.” I flutter my eyelashes.
He grins and hooks his arm around my neck. “You’d think so.”
I laugh and stand patiently at his side as he gestures for the bartender. When our shots are lined up, we lift them, clink them together, and toss them back.
And for a moment, I’m reminded of another tequila shot. The one I shared with Niko Karas when he lifted my arm to his face and dragged his tongue along the sensitive skin of my wrist. When he dusted salt along my skin before tasting the tequila, straight from my lips. I shiver at the memory.
“Ah, don’t go weak on me now, B. Since when can you not hold your liquor?” Andrés teases, misinterpreting my shudder for the effect of tequila.
I shake my head. “I’m not. Order another round.”
He chuckles and indicates that we’ll take another round of shots.
I spend the remainder of the evening drinking, laughing, and dancing. I catch up with Marlowe, talk American football with Avery, and put my rusty Spanish to use with Carla’s abuela. The energy is palpable, cresting over the gathered guests like a wave. Joy and hope and so much love.
It’s a blessing to witness a union like Luca and Carla’s.
It’s a blessing to be one of their family.
As I watch the Garcías huddle together—Abuela, Carla’s parents, Rubén and Paloma, Alejandro and Marlowe and their sweet son Antonio, Valentina and Avery and their beautiful daughter Amelia, her aunts and uncles and cousins, including professional racers Rafa and Sebastian, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to marry into a family like theirs.
For years, it’s been Luca and me. Us against the world. Always just us.
But now, Luca’s entire world has opened. He’s part of the García circle—and it’s a legendary circle to belong to.
A little pang cuts through my chest as I note the significance of the moment. Luca’s world is expanding to include love and family. And mine is unfolding to make room for more work, more hustle, more…independence.
It’s not good or bad. It’s just the way it is.
And it’s a bittersweet acceptance.
That night, when I slip into my bedroom at Luca’s casale—the farmhouse he bought and restored years ago—I drop my purse on the desk and pull out my phone.
There’s a litany of messages and social media notifications on my screen, but Niko’s name causes me to pause.
I click on his text.
Niko
You promised me a photo, Honeybee.
Rolling my eyes, I flick on the light, stand in front of the full-length mirror, and snap a picture.
Bianca
Satisfied?
Niko
Hardly. But you look beautiful.
I snort and place my phone down. Then, I toe off my shoes, unzip my dress, and wash the makeup from my face.
When I’m donning a bathrobe, wearing my glasses, and brushing my teeth, I snap a mirror picture.
Bianca
The real real.
Niko
Just as gorgeous.
Bianca
you’ve got lines, Karas.
Niko
Keep telling yourself that, Honeybee.
Bianca
Honeybees sting.
Niko
They also give honey.
I snort.
Bianca
Good night, Niko. Since we’re in the same time zone.
Niko
I like that for us.
Bianca
Are you all settled in Stuttgart?
Niko
Getting there.
Bianca
Send me your address.
Niko
For a housewarming present?
Bianca
Something like that.
Niko
Will do. Sweet dreams.