Chapter 17
Niko
“That’s no problem,” I say, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I toss a sweater and socks into my bag.
“I’ll send payment for the next two months.
Yes, she needs to break the lease. Okay, thanks for your understanding.
I’ll transfer the funds. Take care.” I end the call, pull up my banking app, and transfer the money. Then, I shoulder my bag.
Leaving my apartment, I breathe in the cool evening air as I walk toward the parking garage. The team is gathering to review tape this evening and then, I’ll shower and change before heading out to dinner with Stavros, Jorgen, and hopefully, some of our other teammates.
Once I slide behind the driver’s seat of my Mercedes, I send Luca a quick text.
Niko
Apartment is sorted. Thanks for the heads-up.
When I couldn’t get ahold of Bianca earlier, I panicked and reached out to her brother who had texted me his and Carla’s phone numbers shortly after the dinner at their apartment.
Luca was more understanding than I expected and once we got to talking, he admitted that Bianca is feeling overwhelmed.
I asked for specifics and when he mentioned breaking her lease in the city, I offered to help.
I think Luca was surprised but he thanked me and sent over Bianca’s landlord’s information.
As of five minutes ago, the lease has been broken, the funds have been transferred, her furniture and personal belongings are being moved into storage, and there’s one less thing for Bianca to stress over.
I place my phone into the center console’s cupholder and ease my car out of the parking garage and onto the street.
I wish Bianca would have confided in me about feeling overwhelmed, but I can’t blame her for keeping her feelings to herself.
We don’t know each other well and life has tossed us together in a serious situation.
I know we need to communicate and work together to get through this, to give our baby a good, stable life, but it’s complicated.
I’ve never been in this situation before and I have no clue how to navigate it. I keep trying to show up, to be present, and to reach out, but I think Bianca’s finding my calls and texts more irritating than thoughtful.
Obviously, I can’t reach out to her brother every time she doesn’t pick up her phone. But the fucking panic that blazed through me when I couldn’t get in touch with her was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
It feels like my life flipped upside down the day I learned Bianca was pregnant.
And it’s hard not to have any control in the situation.
As much as I think she’s feeling resentful toward me that I’m living my dream career while she’s uprooting her life, I hate that she is in control of all the decisions and choices and I’m on the sidelines, hoping she clues me in.
But I can’t tell her that. Not now when we have an easy understanding between us. Not now when she’s overwhelmed and stressed and hasn’t even nailed down a doctor’s appointment.
The only thing I can do now is show her I care, that I’m invested, that I’m not bailing on her and the baby.
And sorting her lease in New York seemed like the best way to do that—even if she never learns that it was me.
I told Luca to take the credit because I don’t need it as much as I need her to have some peace of mind.
I pull into the stadium and park in the designated area. Then I grab my bag, hustle into the arena, and meet my team to watch tape.
“What’s good, Karas?” Stavros calls out as I enter.
“Hey, man.” I slap his back and take the seat beside him.
A few of my teammates offer greetings. Some ignore me completely.
I settle into my seat and turn my attention to the screen.
The room is mostly quiet, save for a few pockets of hushed conversation. I hate how lonely, how stifled, I feel here. I’m used to loud, boisterous energy. To a high-morale, big-spirited team. To my family.
And with each day I spend in Germany, I miss my life in Chicago more than I ever thought possible.
“You didn’t have to pay to break my lease,” Bianca says, a thread of accusation in her tone, when we FaceTime the following night.
“Your brother didn’t have to tell you that it was me,” I reply, pinching the bridge of my nose at the frustration in her tone. A tension headache is forming, wrapping tightly around my temples.
“What’s wrong?” Bianca asks.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Just a headache. How are you feel—”
“Fine,” she snaps, cutting me off. And then, “Sorry. I just hate feeling like an invalid all the time.”
“I get it.”
“I quit my job today,” Bianca shares.
My gaze snaps to hers on the screen. “How’d it go?”
“Fine.”
“Come on, Bianca. For real?”
She sighs. “It was fucking terrible. I cried.”
My heart twists and I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. Relieved that she’s finally sharing something real with me, I don’t say anything, hoping she’ll continue to talk.
Fortune is on my side because she does.
“Chris was so understanding. His empathy made me feel even worse. And I fucking sobbed like a baby,” Bianca admits.
“Chris is a great guy.”
“I know. I’m going to miss having him for a mentor.”
“I’m sure he’ll always be in your corner, Honeybee, if you ever need his advice or want to use him as a reference.”
She nods in agreement. “I guess it’s back to my social platforms and commenting on streetwear.”
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head.
“That’s kind of how I got my start,” she says, launching into an explanation of how her social media platforms and engagement helped her land the internship at URBN Move that eventually turned into her full-time position.
“Maybe I can line up some brand collaborations here. I’m going to reach out to Joe, my old boss at Corcho, a sports pub, and see if I can pick up some bartending shifts,” she adds.
“I’d like to find my own place and let Luca and Carla enjoy their newlywed, honeymoon phase. ”
I frown. “You don’t need to work, Bianca.”
At that her eyes widen and her lips thin.
Shit. I backpedal. Fast. “I mean, I understand if you want to work, but if you’re trying to save money for an apartment, you don’t need to. I could—”
“You already paid to break my lease.” She cuts me off.
“So?”
“So!” Her eyebrows lift. “You can’t bankroll my life, Niko. You’re not my boyfriend. Hell, if I wasn’t pregnant with your baby, would we even be friends?”
Damn. I sit back in my chair as if she physically shoved me.
On screen, Bianca winces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I feel like I’m ceding all my control over my life and it’s making me spiral.”
“That’s interesting,” I offer, my tone harder. “Because I feel like you have all the control in this scenario and I have to sit back and rely on you, trust in you, to share any information. Or withhold it, if you feel like it.”
She scoffs, narrowing her eyes. “I tell you everything about the baby.”
I chuckle. But the sound isn’t humorous. It’s harsh and threaded with frustration. “Right. Like how you told me you were pregnant.”
Bianca blanches and tosses a hand in the air.
Immediately, I feel terrible for throwing that in her face. I know she was processing and it’s not like she owed me, a stranger, her feelings in real time.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“No,” she sighs. “I am. I’m…giving you a hard time when you tried to do something nice for me. I just hate feeling helpless.”
“I get that,” I say, meaning it. “But we have to work together, we have to communicate, if this is going to work. I don’t want my child growing up thinking I didn’t give a damn about you guys. I care, Bianca. And I’m trying to prove that to you.”
“I know.”
“After the scare you had, I don’t want you to push yourself to the brink. You don’t have to work two jobs. And it’s not because you’re not capable of it but because you are already doing the hardest job. You’re growing our baby, keeping him or her safe.”
Her breath hitches when I call the baby ours and I’d be lying if the realization didn’t tug on something in my chest.
“The best thing I can do for you right now, from Germany, is check in, listen, and provide financial resources. Please, don’t fight me on that. Nothing else feels like it’s in my control and I understand how debilitating it is to feel like you’re not calling the shots in your life.”
Bianca sucks in a deep breath and releases it slowly. Then, she nods. “Alright. Fine.”
I fight my smile. “Did you make an appointment with the OBGYN?”
“Yes. It’s in two and a half weeks.” She tells me the date.
“I’ll be there.”
“But if you can’t—”
“I’ll be there,” I confirm. I have no clue how I’m going to pull it off, but I will move mountains to be at that appointment. “While I’m in town, why don’t we look at some apartments for you?”
Bianca’s expression softens. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she breathes, and then softer, “thank you, Niko.”
I nod, yawning. “I’m going to crash but I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“I promise I’ll answer.”
I snort. “That’s all I’m asking for, Honeybee.”
When we end the call, I change into sweats, and collapse into my bed, relieved that exhaustion hits before my mind can spin. Tomorrow, I’ll strategize ways to take leave for Bianca’s appointment.
Tomorrow.