Chapter 29
Niko
“Yours is going to fall.” Sophia points to her brother’s gingerbread house as it leans to one side.
“It’s fine!” my nephew Ben disagrees.
“I don’t know.” Dimi shakes his head.
Sophia leans forward and blows on Ben’s gingerbread house and we all watch as it tilts over in slow motion.
“Sophia!” Ben hollers.
“It’s okay, man. We can fix it.” Greg steps in.
“I’ve got this in the bag,” my sister gloats, adding more icing to her house’s windows.
“Mom, we’re your children,” Caleb scoffs.
“All the more reason why I should win,” Alex replies, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she adds candies to resemble Christmas lights along the line of her roof.
“Please…” Dimi cuts in. “We all know I’m the winner. Right, Mama?”
My mom holds her hands up in a gesture to leave her out of this. “I’m Switzerland.”
“MarMar, you’re the judge! You can’t be Switzerland,” Sophia reminds her.
“I think yours is the best,” Ben whispers conspiratorially to Bianca who beams at him.
My Honeybee threw herself into the whirlwind that is my family and has been thoroughly enjoying herself in their company—another testament to how special she is.
Between my mama’s constant questions about the baby, Aunt Thea’s incessant calling to inquire about wedding plans, and Baba’s random musings about life, my siblings and I can’t stop shooting each other exasperated looks and laughs.
But not Bee. No, my fiancée has embraced being in the midst of it, and is building her gingerbread house with gusto.
“Thank you, Ben.” She winks at him.
He blushes and dips his head.
“There goes another Karas falling under your spell,” Dimi murmurs.
“He’s a Stanley,” Alex reminds him.
Bianca laughs lightly.
The table is strewn with dishes of candy, sprinkles in every color, bags of icing, and so much chocolate I’m getting a stomachache from snacking on it when Sophia’s not looking.
“I can’t believe your mom brought these kits all the way from Chicago,” Bianca laughs, unwrapping a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.
“One whole suitcase was dedicated to this,” Baba informs her. “But we had enough time at the airport to make sure we could check all of our bags without rushing.”
“Imagine that?” Dimi says.
Bianca chuckles.
And I love seeing her like this—carefree and easygoing.
Just, caught up in the moment. She’s a softer version of the urgent, efficient, determined woman I met in New York.
Now, she lingers in conversations, she gazes at trees and the birds when we take walks, she…
embraces life in a different way. I’m not sure how much of that is because of the baby, or her move to Valencia, or knowing that our relationship is solid, but Bianca has learned to slow down. And I think she even likes it.
“Ta-da!” She turns her gingerbread house around for all to see.
“Ooh, I think you’re going to beat Mama,” Sophia breathes.
“Definitely,” Ben agrees.
“Hey!” my sister cries. “You kids are supposed to have my back. I birthed you.”
Caleb rolls his eyes while Greg snorts.
“Mine is the best,” Dimi declares, spinning his gingerbread house around.
Sophia wrinkles her nose. “Your roof is sagging.”
“And your lights are slipping.” Caleb points to the sprinkles sliding down the icing that’s meant to hold them in place.
Mama walks around the table, inspecting everyone’s work. Except mine since I ate all my decorations before I could use them to bring my gingerbread house to life.
“Mm,” Mama hums, her brows dipped in thought.
Baba rolls his eyes and gestures toward her. “Just pick one. They’re all the same.”
“No, they’re not,” Sophia replies, indignant.
“I think Caleb’s is the best,” Mama declares, surprising everyone at the table.
Slowly, Caleb turns his gingerbread house around and everyone gasps.
“Wow,” Bianca breathes. “Caleb, this is a masterpiece.”
The gingerbread house looks like it was pressed together with glue rather than icing.
The lines are crisp and sharp, the patterns of his lights are intricate, a series of stars that dance across the roof.
There are icicles and snowmen and even a forgotten scarf in the snow, shredded coconut, by the front door.
“It’s amazing, Caleb,” my sister agrees, smiling at her eldest.
“You win!” Baba shouts, clapping his hands and pointing at Caleb. “Now, we can eat!”
“We’re making gratitude jars first,” Sophia reminds him.
He sighs heavily and strides to the kitchen.
Bianca laughs. “Let me go fix him a plate of something.”
“He’s fine,” I tell her.
But she shakes her head and follows my baba.
I think she wants a minute alone with him and it’s partly because, in the few days that my family has been here, Bianca and Baba have struck up a friendship.
I don’t know what to call it, but over their love of card games, they’ve clicked in a way that eases something in my chest.
I know my baba is proud of me. I’ve always known that. But now, I also know he’s proud of Bianca and I think that means more to her than I could have imagined.
“You’re really getting married, Uncle Niko?” Sophia asks, wrinkling her nose at me.
I nod. “Yes, ma’am. But after the baby is born. Next summer.”
She breathes out a sigh.
“All good, Soph?” Dimi inquires.
My niece nods and bites her bottom lip.
“Oh, out with it already,” Ben chides.
Sophia glances at me. “You’re sure she’s the one?”
I fight my smirk. “Yeah, Soph. I’m sure.”
“Good.” A smile crosses her face. “Because if you change your mind, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”
Mama, Alex, and Greg laugh.
“And we really want to go to Greece for the wedding,” Ben whispers.
“That too.” Sophia nods seriously.
“Good. Because we’re going next summer. All of us.” I glance around the table at my family. It’s still hard to believe that they’re all here.
Not because I didn’t think they’d show up for me. For us.
But because of how lucky it is. How fortunate I am to have a family that cares deeply, loves hard, and embraces fully.
Bianca and I are celebrating our first Christmas with both of our families. We’re blending them together to forge something neither of us imagined. Our little honeybee is going to be surrounded by unconditional love from her very first breath. And that feels like the greatest blessing of all.
“Sleep tight, sweet girl,” Bianca kisses a sleeping Sophia’s forehead good night before Greg carries her out of our apartment.
“See you tomorrow,” he whispers over his shoulder. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Bianca replies, waving.
She closes the door behind her and grins at me.
I hold my arms open and she walks into them, wrapping her arms around my waist.
Folding her frame against me, I rock back and forth a few times, kissing her temple. “How you doing? Exhausted?”
She shakes her head. “No. I feel…great. These days with your family have been amazing. I love getting to know them all.”
“They feel the same way.”
“I know,” she agrees, half in awe. “That’s the most amazing part. They’ve really embraced me like one of their own.”
“We’re family, Bianca. For always.”
“For always,” she repeats, leaning back to look up at me. “Merry Christmas, Niko.”
“Merry Christmas, Honeybee. I love you.” I lean down to kiss my fiancée.
“Love you more,” she murmurs, lifting her face to mine.
Our sweet kiss quickly turns spicy and I lead her into our bedroom where I can show my fiancée just how much I adore her. Where we can celebrate Christmas morning the way I want—in bed next to her.