Chapter 20
Bianca
“What is it?” Carla asks, peering into the box as I rip it open.
Carla, Luca, and I are in my new apartment. My furniture was delivered today and my brother is here to oversee the building of said furniture. Carla’s mainly here to keep me company and send photos to Marlowe, a decorating guru, as we try to pull the place together.
“I’m not sure,” I reply.
My brother picks up the paper the box was wrapped in. “It’s an American return address. Chicago.”
“Ooh,” Carla breathes.
I open the lid on the box and bite my bottom lip.
Nestled inside layers of tissue paper is a beautiful, butter yellow, hand-knitted baby blanket.
I pull out the blanket, the soft, cozy fabric smooth against my palms, and note the pack of muslin blankets, printed with soccer symbols, below.
A note slips out of the folds of the blanket as I shake it open and Carla plucks it up, passing it to me.
“Read it,” she demands.
I stare at the blanket, my baby’s first gift, and smile. I’m sure someone from Niko’s family sent it and the thoughtfulness of the gesture affects me. I feel gratitude humming through my body as I clutch the blanket to my chest and open the letter.
Dear Bianca,
I am so thrilled for you and Niko and your wonderful, life-changing news. I know it’s not what either of you planned or expected, but sometimes, the surprises we never anticipate turn out to be our greatest blessings.
When I was pregnant with Niko, my mother knitted a small, blue blanket for him. It was nothing fancy, but it followed him everywhere: car rides, nap times, even his first day of nursery. He called it Blue-Bee and it’s still tucked in a bottom drawer in his bedroom.
When you and Niko called, I found myself thinking about Blue-Bee. So I went out that evening to buy yarn. I wanted your baby to have something made with the same kind of love and history.
I admit, the soccer muslins were an impulse buy. I couldn’t help myself!
Mostly, I wanted to send you something. Not to overstep but to let you know that you’re part of our family now, whether you meant to be or not.
I hope, in time, we’ll get to know each other better. I promised Niko I wouldn’t overwhelm you, and I’m afraid I’ve already written too much!
With love,
Mimi
P.S. Still testing out grandma names. Alexandria’s children call me MarMar, for Maria. Thea insists on YiaYia. She says it’s tradition and her grandkids call her YiaYia, but it makes me feel old. Don’t tell her—she’s competitive about everything, even nicknames.
“Aww,” Carla murmurs, reading the note over my shoulder. “That’s really sweet.”
“Can’t say he’s not trying,” my brother mutters, running a hand over the muslin blanket packaging.
I nod, my eyes scanning Maria’s note again.
I feel her words in the center of my chest, knowing it’s the type of letter my mom would have sent if Luca was Niko and found himself in a similar situation.
She would have reached out, extended compassion and understanding, and sent a gift.
I blink back tears as a cocktail of emotions washes over me.
It’s sad and painful to know that my mama will never experience this joy. She will never know her grandchildren and she won’t teach me how to be a mother, the same way her mom taught her.
But I’m also unbelievably relieved that Niko’s mom has taken the first step to embrace me and the baby as part of her family.
It’s comforting and eases some of the difficult feelings I’ve been processing.
Even though Luca and Carla, Abuela, Marlowe and Ale, hell, even Andrés have been supportive, Maria’s acceptance hits different.
Maybe because I wasn’t expecting it but now that it’s here, I want to sink into it like a hug.
“Everything’s going to work out,” Carla says, bumping her shoulder against mine.
“Yes,” I agree, smiling at her. “I think so.”
The bell rings and Luca moves toward the intercom system to buzz Andrés up. “Looks like he brought a welcome gift too.”
A few moments later, Andrés walks into my apartment, a shopping bag in hand. “For you,” he says, kissing my cheeks in greeting and passing me the bag.
I peer inside, grinning, as I note the set of bowls and dishes I had been eyeing at El Corte Ingles. “Andrés!” I exclaim, throwing an arm around him. “How did you know?”
He kisses my temple affectionately.
“Marlowe,” Andrés, Carla, and I say in unison.
Luca chuckles.
“Your place is going to have a photo-worthy aesthetic with Mar pulling strings behind the scenes,” Carla admits, glancing around my apartment.
“I have good taste,” I remind her.
“You do. But I thought the look you’re going for is softer than edgy street style,” she reminds me.
“True,” I mumble, nodding. My hand passes over my stomach even though I don’t have a bump yet.
To be honest, now that the constant fatigue has passed, I don’t feel much of anything.
Some nights, I lie awake in bed, nervous that I’m not pregnant anymore.
Shouldn’t I feel something, anything, now? “It’s better for the baby.”
Andrés shakes his head. “You have great style, B.”
“Well, I’m going to let Marlowe take the lead with this. She loves decorating more than anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t have the headspace for it right now,” I admit.
Andrés and Luca both stare at me for a long moment, concern shading their eyes.
“I’m fine!” I shoo them away. “Go build some furniture.”
“Thank God it’s not IKEA,” Andrés mutters. “Those instructions kill me.”
“Don’t let Marlowe hear you say that!” Carla warns him as he retreats down the hallway. “She loves IKEA.”
“Especially the meatballs,” Luca remarks before he and Andrés disappear into my bedroom.
“So.” Carla stares at me.
“So...”
She sighs. “I want the details on Niko. Obviously.”
I move toward the kitchen and open the Tupperware on a fresh batch of ensaimadas.
Carla sucks in a breath. “Are these Abuela’s?”
“Almost. They’re mine…but her recipe.”
“Really?” Carla rounds the kitchen island. “I can’t believe you made them.”
“I’ve really enjoyed my time with Abuela. She’s…teaching me a lot.”
Carla nods, moving toward my Nespresso machine and popping in a coffee pod. “She’s happy to drop knowledge on anyone willing to listen. But she does have a lot of wisdom.”
“Yes,” I agree, turning on the kettle for some tea.
Once Carla and I are seated at the kitchen island with hot beverages and a plate of ensaimadas between us, I fill her in on my visit with Niko.
“We’re taking things day by day,” I admit. “We send each other voice notes throughout the day. He checks in on me. I’ll send him photos of things we need for the baby.” I open my phone to show her the photo Niko sent me last night.
It’s him, reading a baby book.
“Damn,” Carla murmurs. “Should expecting dads be this hot?”
“He’s twenty-five.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. I feel…old and frumpy compared to him.”
My sister-in-law’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t when I met him.
Then, I was cool, sophisticated, streetstyle is life, New York Bianca.
But now… now, I feel a little directionless, overwhelmed, emotional, and sappy as fuck Bianca.
” I tug at the collar of my hoodie. “Plus, I barely leave my apartment to do anything exciting. I’m not getting dressed up anymore or going to events.
There is no sense of urgency in my daily life. It’s just…puttering along.”
Carla considers this. “I understand that. It’s good that you guys are talking so much. It seems like a solid foundation for co-parenting.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “We’re building a friendship of sorts. I trust him, I will say that. He’s sincere and calm in ways that I’m not. Niko’s all charming charisma while I’m more direct, rough around the edges.”
“Opposites attract.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say nonchalantly, not wanting her to get any ideas. “We agreed we’re both not actively dating at the moment—”
“Wait, what?”
I roll my eyes. “We’re focusing on the baby, on our careers, not on finding partners. So, we don’t need to have any of those conversations, about bringing new people into the baby’s life or what that will be like from a co-parenting standpoint.”
Carla rolls her lips together as her shoulders shimmy.
“You’re trying not to laugh,” I correctly guess. “Why are you trying not to laugh?”
“I can’t believe you guys had that conversation.”
“Don’t you think it’s important?” I huff, feeling defensive.
“Of course I do,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “At some point. But it’s like you and Niko are intertwining your lives a hell of a lot more than two strangers having a baby.”
“We’re…friends.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not buying that. It’s more than that. You like him.”
“Of course I like him.”
“I mean, you like him like him.”
I sigh. “That’s irrelevant at this point.”
“Really?” Carla snickers. “You guys are having a baby together. Wouldn’t it be…like kismet or something if you ended up dating?”
“No.” I shut down her line of thinking. “All that would be is confusing in an already complicated scenario. I’m not in the right headspace to even consider dating my younger, hotter, funnier baby daddy.”
Carla bursts out laughing. “I think you are. In fact, I think that’s a better headspace than stressed out and overwhelmed.”
I roll my eyes and reach for my second ensaimada. “We’re just friends.”
“For now.” She points toward the yellow blanket Niko’s mom knitted. “You’re already part of the family.”
“So is Ellie.”
Carla frowns. “Who’s Ellie?”
“Niko’s best friend.”
“Ah,” Carla murmurs, taking another sip of her coffee.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Carla?”
She laughs lightly. “You’re jealous.”
“I—”
“I know you, B. You hate that Niko’s best friend is a girl.”
“Yes, I do,” I admit sullenly. “How fucked up is that?”
“It’s because you have feelings for him.”
“I don’t—”
She holds up her hand, cutting me off. “I’m not saying you’re going to end up together or anything.
I’m just saying, you care about the guy.
You’re obviously attracted to him. He’s been great about this whole situation, and he cares about you and the baby.
It’s natural to feel some sort of claim to him. ”
“I don’t—” I try again.
“And who knows, maybe your friendship will turn into something a little steamier. Are you really not going to have sex for nine months?”
“Ten,” I huff out. “Did you know a pregnancy is forty weeks long?”
Carla laughs. “I learned too many things from Valentina and Marlowe. And you’ve already put the first trimester behind you.”
“True.”
“But Niko is the perfect guy to take care of your needs—all of them—during this time.”
I blush at what she’s insinuating. Partly because I’d already considered it. I mean, it’s our baby. We already hooked up. And is he really not seeking out connections for the next six months?
“Just think about it,” Carla says, pulling a piece of pastry and popping it into her mouth. “If you haven’t already.”
I throw my balled-up napkin at her and she chuckles.
“Nice to see you ladies working hard,” Andrés jokes as he strolls into the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”
“That B should hook up with Niko, at least while she’s preggo,” Carla admits.
“Carla!” I hiss.
“Carla!” Luca hollers.
Carla laughs and shrugs. “What? I’m rooting for you, B. Just because you’re having a baby doesn’t mean you should stop having orgasms.”
Andrés’ jaw clenches and he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns toward the Nespresso machine and busies himself with making a coffee.
“Come see your new bed,” Luca says, appearing at my other side.
I slip off my barstool and follow Luca down the hall, relieved at his interruption. I know Carla meant no harm because she’s comfortable around Andrés. She’s always been open and honest about her dating life before she married Luca. And she never cared what anyone thought.
It’s something we have in common. But with Andrés…well, it’s different. I suspect he has a crush on me. Whenever I bring up anything about guys or dating in general, he turns sullen. And I know he doesn’t like Niko.
When I step into my bedroom, all thoughts of Andrés flee my mind. Because in the center of the room is the new, king-sized, platform bed I ordered with a light oak headboard and footboard. I beam and spin into my brother’s embrace. “Grazie mille, Luca.”
“Anything for you, B.”
I know he means it. And I realize how lucky I am. How fortunate my baby is. Niko and I may not be forming a family in the traditional sense, but our baby is going to be loved beyond measure by many.