Nonnos & Newborns
Chapter sixty-three
Eslin
Seven Months Later
It’s the middle of July, and even with the hospital’s air-conditioning running full blast, it feels like we’re all melting. Sweat sticks to the back of my neck, my scrubs cling to me in all the wrong places, and still—still—none of it matters. Because in Marlow’s arms, the world has stopped.
Baby Maddy Mariana Agassi has arrived, a squirming, sticky little bundle of heat and perfection.
Born the same month I moved to Atlanta last year, like God wanted to stitch our timelines together.
She’s all fire and olive, fierce even in her first cries, and I swear when she furrows her tiny brow, I see a little bit of me in her.
All the fights me and her mama had.
One by one, the players filter in. Big, brooding, larger-than-life men suddenly turned awkward and quiet in the presence of seven pounds of new life.
None of them dare ask to hold her. But they all bring something.
A miniature jersey, a soccer ball rattle, tiny cleats that won’t fit her for years.
A baby blanket embroidered with the Strikers’ crest. Each gift, clumsy and perfect in its own way.
I lean against the wall, arms folded, and take it all in. My family. My crazy, wacky family that came together one insane night in Vegas and somehow, against all odds, turned into this. A team. A tribe. A home.
And as Maddy lets out another cry, strong and steady, I can’t help but smile.
“Welcome to the world, little one. You have no idea the love you’ve just been born into.”
Grant
It’s the middle of the night, and yet none of us can bring ourselves to sleep. We’re all wide awake, eyes fixed on this tiny little miracle who’s stolen the show—and our hearts—in less than twenty-four hours. Baby Maddy.
Declan’s family is up on the big screen, all crammed together in some living room half a world away. Their voices spill into the hospital room in a mix of English and Italian, laughter tumbling over one another, faces shining with pride.
We’d all already made the trip to Italy during Marlow’s pregnancy. The first time it was just Declan and Marlow, and the second time, Eslin and I joined them. That second visit is the one I’ll never forget, because it’s where I proposed.
We were wandering the streets of Italy late at night when Eslin decided she had to have real Italian pizza.
So we stopped, grabbed a slice, and sat on a corner like a couple of teenagers.
She took one bite, and when a string of cheese slipped from her lips and landed on her chest, she laughed like only she can—loud, unrestrained, beautiful.
And right then and there, I knew. I knew I wanted her in my life forever.
We’d never talked about it before. I didn’t even know if she actually wanted to get married. But call me an old romantic, I had to try. So there I was, dropping to one knee with nothing but that ridiculous grin of hers to hold onto and a grease-stained napkin in my hand, asking her to marry me.
And thank God, she said yes.
Then, with cheese still dripping down her chest, she laughed and told me not to say anything to Marlow.
Not until after the trip, because it was Marlow’s time with her new family.
I agreed, because that’s Eslin. Always thinking about everyone else before herself.
But the second we landed back home, she went and spilled it to the girls at one of their “stand-in happy hours.”
So the secret lasted all of three days. Fine by me. By then she had a ring.
On the screen, Marlow lifts little Maddy toward the camera, introducing her to the other half of her family.
Declan’s father leans in, squinting like he’s trying to memorize every detail through the pixels.
His English is broken, but I get him all the same.
We’ve already found our common ground—our shared irritation over Declan’s tattoos, and the fact we missed Christmas together, thanks to that dumbass reality show wedding.
He’s a good man, Declan’s father. Solid.
I’m still deciding on how I feel about his son.
Then Nonna bursts in, her words flying fast and sharp in rapid-fire Italian.
I don’t catch a single word, but I don’t have to.
The rhythm, the warmth, the way her hands flutter toward the screen like she could pluck Maddy right out of Marlow’s arms—it’s pure love.
And damn it, I inwardly cringe at how soft this has all made me.
Declan’s brother, though…that kid is something else. Quiet in a way that isn’t just shy. Quiet in a way that makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. There’s something brewing in him. Something I can’t place. But tonight isn’t the night for worries. Tonight is for joy.
But I put it in the back of my mind to ask about him later.
And then it all crashes over me like a fresh wave, sharp and unrelenting.
I’m a grandpa. The word feels foreign on my tongue, but it settles heavy in my chest, stilling me.
My Maddy isn’t gone. She left something else behind for us all.
A piece of herself woven into every one of us, a reminder that this messy, tangled, unlikely family we’ve built is real. Forever.
And it will keep living on.
I clear my throat, calling out to the kid who somehow became my son-in-law. “Hey, Dickless.”
“Yeah, Prick?” Declan fires back without missing a beat.
I smirk. “How do you say grandpa in Italian?”
Declan starts to answer, but it’s his father who leans in from the screen, his voice rich and proud. “Nonno.”
I look straight at him, and something passes between us. An agreement. A joining of families. “Ok,” I nod. “We’ll both be called nonno.”
His nod seals it.
I bend and kiss the soft crown of my granddaughter’s head. Then the temple of my own baby girl, grown now, but still mine.
And finally, I lace my fingers through the hand of the woman who’s turned my life upside down in the best way possible—my fiancée.
I exhale, the weight of everything—the scandal, the secrets, the chaos—melting away. “Welcome home, Maddy-girl. Welcome home.”