Chapter 13
Niko
“You look like shit,” Ellie greets me on FaceTime.
I wince and run my hand through my hair. “Too loud.”
She snorts. “How bad is your hangover this morning?”
I glance around my bedroom, relieved that there isn’t a random woman in the bed next to me, and relax against my pillow. The room tilts to the side and I close my eyes.
“I might still be drunk,” I admit.
“Niko!” Ellie scolds.
I crack open one eye to note her trying to hold back her laughter even though her eyes are narrowed.
“I can’t read your expression. It’s too many things at once.”
“I’m pissed and amused,” she helps me out.
I close my eye. “Me too.”
Ellie sighs. “Go take a shower, drink a hot coffee, and call me back when you’re sober. And awake.” She ends the FaceTime.
“Okay,” I tell my empty bedroom, dropping my phone and rolling onto my side. Closing my eyes, I let sleep tug me back under.
The vibration of my phone against the back of my arm wakes me up. I’m not sure how much time has passed. Minutes? Maybe hours?
It’s my one day off this week and as a result, I went out and got shit-faced in an attempt to connect with someone—anyone—in this town.
I grope for my phone and slide my thumb across the bar.
“Ellie!” I groan. “I’m still sleeping.”
“I’m not Ellie,” her voice cracks through the air.
A jolt of surprise mixed with panic shoots through me and I sit straight up in bed. “Bianca.”
The brunette bombshell stares at me. I shake my head, dragging a hand across my face, to make sure I’m not dreaming. I blink and nope—she’s still there.
Staring at me with…disappointment.
Fuck.
“Bianca,” I breathe.
“Karas,” she replies.
“I’m so happy you called.”
A derisive snort. “Are you? It seems you’ve been busy.”
“The schedule here is intense—”
“Partying, women, just living your life.” Her tone is clipped and the animosity rolling off her comes through the screen, attacking me.
I frown, shaking my head. What the hell is happening right now? “Honeybee, you ghosted me.”
“I was terrified!” she yells before clamping her mouth shut. Her eyes widen in horror and she swears.
“What?” I peer at her, hating that she blurs before me.
I need to find my fucking glasses. Or put in contacts.
Hell, I need to shower and drink a hot coffee for whatever the hell is happening right now.
“Of me?” My hand lands in the center of my bare chest. Did I scare her?
And not know it? Maybe I came on too strong?
“No, no.” She shakes her head. “I’m not, I have to…Karas.”
“Bianca, I need to find my glasses so I can see you clearly.”
She sucks in a breath. “You wear glasses?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t wear them in New York.”
“I…” I sputter on a laugh at the randomness of this exchange. “I wore my daily contacts one day too long in New York. I usually wear glasses at home.”
“Oh. Okay. Find them. We need to talk. And it’d be great if you could see me while we do that.”
I snicker. “I agree.”
“Call me back?”
“Yeah. Give me fifteen?”
“To find your glasses?”
“To shower and pull myself together.” I drag a hand over my face again. “I’m hungover.”
“Lucky you.”
“Fifteen okay?”
“Fine.”
“Promise you’ll answer?”
She flips me her middle finger and ends the call.
“I’m glad you called, Honeybee,” I admit to the blank screen.
Then, I race to the bathroom, throw myself in a cold shower, and wake the fuck up. In fifteen minutes, I’ve located my glasses, brushed my teeth, and brewed a pot of coffee. I feel like a new man.
Sitting down at my kitchen island, I grip my phone, pull in a breath, and call Bianca.
“Hi.” She answers on the first ring. And then, “Of course you fucking look good in glasses.”
“Thanks.” I touch the side of the frames.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed.
“I’ve been worried about you,” I admit.
“Really?” She sounds skeptical and that pisses me off.
“Yes, really. Haven’t you gotten my messages? I heard you took a leave of absence from work and—”
“How’d you hear that?” Panic laces her tone.
“Chris. He sent me the photos for the campaign and I asked about you and—”
“What did he say?”
“That you took a leave of absence and were in Spain. Is everything okay, Bianca? Is your family okay? Did something—”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.
“I…wait…what?” I sputter, certain I heard her wrong.
She sucks in a breath, holds it, and slowly exhales. “Niko, I’m pregnant.”
“I…holy shit…are you sure?”
She glares at me. “Yes, I’m fucking sure. Do you think I’d just call you and—”
“No, of course not. I…I’m just…give me a minute. I’m…processing.” I drop my head into my hand and dig my fingers into my forehead.
Pregnant.
Fucking pregnant.
And, if she’s calling me to tell me…that means the baby is mine.
Jesus, catch the fuck up.
Bianca and I only spent one weekend together but…
The condom fucking broke.
But that was…
“Bianca.” My head snaps up. “How far along are you?”
She winces. My chest tightens and my hand drops, balling into a fist.
“Eleven weeks,” she whispers.
Eleven weeks.
“Nearly three months,” I say aloud.
“Yes, good job, that’s eleven weeks.”
I swear. “I…why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known? How could you keep this from me?”
Tears fill her eyes as she stares at me.
“I thought you took the emergency contraception pill.”
Her tears spill over. “I did. And then I threw up on the plane and…”
Understanding dawns. “Your body didn’t absorb it?”
She shakes her head, groaning miserably.
As my shock wears off, I note how exhausted she looks, how tense she seems. “Were you scared? When you learned about the baby?”
She nods, crying harder.
Guilt rushes through me and I gentle my voice. “Don’t cry, Bianca.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobs as her tears fall. “It’s like I can’t fucking stop. It’s waterworks all the time. And then, I collapsed at work and—”
“What?” I yell.
“It’s burnout, you know? And a subchorionic hematoma. And—”
“A what? Is the baby okay?”
“Yes.” She nods emphatically.
“Are you?” At my question, more tears bubble in her eyes and my heart twists. “Honeybee.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Niko. Like, what the fuck am I doing?”
“You don’t have to know.”
“Yes, I do! I’m about to be a mother.”
Holy fuck. That means—“I’m going to be a baba.”
She nods, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her knuckles.
“I requested a leave to come see you,” I say.
“You, what? When?”
“It was denied but now…”
“Now?”
“This changes everything.”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I mean, I wanted you to know I’m pregnant, but I don’t expect anything from you, Karas. I know playing in Germany is your dream and you have commitments and—”
“Stop calling me Karas.” I cut her off, feeling my anger spike. “And what the fuck do you mean you don’t expect anything from me?”
“I mean, I’m good. I have support. A lot of it, actually. Marlowe and Carla. My brother and Andrés and Alejandro. Plus, I have financial help. Luca will—”
“Do you actually think that I would allow some man, who isn’t me, to provide for my child?” My tone is low. Dangerously low as a fury I’ve never felt before spreads through my body. It’s both ice cold and burning hot and I shiver. “Is that the type of man you think I am, Bianca?”
Bianca’s mouth snaps shut. She stares at me through the screen and I know the moment she realizes she fucked up by thinking I wouldn’t give a damn.
“I’ll see you for dinner,” I say.
“What?”
“Send me your address.”
“I’m staying at my brother’s.”
“Then send me his address. I’ll see you this evening.”
“I…why?”
“Why?” I repeat, bewildered. “Because, Bianca, this is the type of conversation people have in person. Don’t you think?”
She nods. “You’re really going to come here?”
At the waver in her tone, some of my anger dissipates. She’s scared, emotional, and pregnant. With my baby.
“Yeah, honey. I’m coming to you, okay?”
“Okay,” she breathes and I don’t miss the wild relief that fills her expression.
Guilt slams into me that, for two and a half months, I didn’t even know that my baby existed. That Bianca was dealing with everything alone. But it’s quickly replaced by frustration because why the hell didn’t she tell me?
“I’ll see you soon,” I say, ending the call.
Then, I fly around my apartment, packing an overnight bag. I debate letting team management know, but in the end, I shoot Stavros a text letting him know that an emergency came up and he needs to cover for me at practice tomorrow.
Relief washes over me when I get his reply two hours later, while I’m waiting to board my flight to Valencia.
Stavros
Whatever, it’s better than nothing.
Then, I turn off my phone, settle into my seat on the plane, and try to wrap my mind around this life-changing news.
I’m going to be a baba.
Bianca DiBlanco and I are having a baby.
Warmth and sunshine are the first things to greet me as I step off the plane. It’s not hot weather, but compared to the chill of Stuttgart, it’s a welcomed change.
Powering on my phone, I’m relieved to see that Bianca sent me her brother’s address as well as a link to a nearby hotel. It’s a small, boutique hotel near the Mercat Colon. Shouldering my duffle bag, I wait in the taxi line.
Niko
I’m on my way to the hotel.
Bianca
I’ll meet you in the lobby.
Niko
I can come pick you up.
Bianca
The hotel is literally across the street from Luca’s.
Not knowing what else to say, I pull a Stavros.
Niko
Then, I slide into a taxi and drop my head back to mentally prepare for what I’m walking into. No matter what, Bianca and I have to communicate and come to some kind of understanding. We have to get to know each other and put our baby first.
From now until forever, our lives will be intertwined.
If we’re going to be co-parents, we should, at least, try to be friends.