Epilogue
Naomi, Five Months Later
“Grab me another water, Graham Cracker!” I call, flopping back onto the couch next to Clara.
I look over at Cristian settled deep into the armchair in the De La Torre living room texting with a stupid grin on his face.
“Who the fuck is on the other end of that phone that has you smirking like that?”
He glances up with a frown and a shrug. “No one,” he scoffs, glancing back down as it pings again. His lips tilt up in another small grin.
“It’s a girl,” Clara and I say at once exchanging a look.
“It’s not a girl,” Cristian protests as Graham sneaks up behind his chair, reading over his shoulder.
“Who’s Saige?”
“Mierda!” Cristian jumps, glaring up at his pseudo uncle. “You know, it’s actually really important I don’t have a heart attack between now and the next qualifier. Would kind of be career ending.”
“You’ll live.” Graham pats his shoulder as he comes around to drop onto the cushion next to me. He holds out a water bottle my way. “So,” he asks, cracking his own beer open. “Who’s Saige?”
Cristian shrugs, opening the beer Graham set on the coffee table for him. “No one. She works the team’s social media. She was just sharing some idea for a new video.”
“Uh huh,” Graham smirks, placing a foot against the coffee table as he sips his beer. “Sure.”
Cristian rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t really help his argument that he turns red as a fucking cherry before tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Todo el mundo es bien jodón, puneta…”
“Shh!” Clara slaps my arm six times exactly, reaching for the remote to turn up the volume on the tv. “There they are!”
All of us turn to watch the red carpet leading up to the Latin Music Awards, the entire reason we’re crowded into Clara’s living room in the first place.
Elias and Nelly flew out a few days ago so they could pick up her dress, do a final fitting, and he could get some work done in Los Angeles leading up to the event.
Elias has been nominated for Top Latin Album of the Year, Top Latin Albums Artist, Hot Latin Song of the Year, AND Hot Latin Song – Vocal Event.
Having heard the album on repeat thanks to Graham’s overachieving level of support, I have no doubt Elias will win at least two out of the three categories.
Nelly was so excited when he got the nominations, she immediately put in a call to her favorite designer for a dress to the event. The original Oscar de la Renta pictures she sent were a dream, but neither Clara nor I have actually seen the dress on her yet.
It is phenomenal.
They both look amazing, Elias dressed head to toe in a powder blue suit, the jacket embroidered with flowers. His collared shirt is white, the top button undone casually, no tie in sight and he wears Cartier sunglasses despite the setting sun. But Nelly’s dress is the real star of the show.
It’s also powder blue, the bust snug, lifting the swells of her breasts impressively, the skirts thick, almost floral in their volume as they spill from around her middle. The back is just slightly longer, revealing her Rene Caovilla heels beneath.
“Fuck her and her wardrobe,” I mutter lovingly.
“She looks amazing!” Clara squeals. “Look at her makeup!” It too is perfect, blue and gold eye shadow framed by winged eyeliner there is no way she did herself. Her hair is pinned in an elegant chignon decorated with little blue and white lace butterflies.
Somewhere off to the side I spot the outline of Rowan’s arm, the ever-present bodyguard, especially at events like this one. “God, I love that man in a suit,” Clara mutters under her breath.
No one needs to tell Nelly how to pose for a picture.
Her arm is banded through Elias’ one minute, the next curved around his back, his own settled around her hip.
She never smiles fully, nor does he, keeping their expressions neutral, elegant, sensual.
It’s only when they look at each other that their gazes soften and their lips tilt just a little as if in a silent secret only they share.
Which is exactly when it happens.
I blink, my eyes widening as I watch Elias place a hand against Nelly’s abdomen at the same time she smooths the plume of her skirt over the distinct roundness of her belly.
“No. Fucking. WAY!” I shoot to my feet so fast I nearly knock the beer out of Graham’s hand. “NO FUCKING WAY!”
I grab for my phone, texting Nelly immediately, even though I know she won’t see it until she’s either seated at award ceremony or when she gets back to the villa.
“How could she not tell us?!” I shout, gesturing to the tv. “We’re their best friends and this is how they tell us?!”
The silence that follows is suspicious enough to make my eyes narrow as I look first at Cristian- sinking even lower in his chair and deeper into his team hoodie- then to Clara who is admiring her new wall art with too much interest- and finally Graham- who has suddenly found the wrapper on his beer bottle fascinating.
“You,” I glare between them. “Fucking cunts. Did you all know?! Clara?!”
She holds up her hands. “I was there when she took the test,” she admits. “But you were still in Boston! So, it’s not really our fault you weren’t part of it—”
“Cristian?!”
“You and I aren’t really the texting kind of friends—”
“When did you find out?!”
He winces. “Dad called me the moment she told him. Like, the very moment. She was still washing her hands in the bathroom—”
I finally turn my glare on Graham who looks seconds away from bolting for the door. “And you?”
“Okay, like Clara said, you were still in Boston finishing up all your shit for the move, and we didn’t—”
“GRAHAM!”
He cowers and I can see the instinct in him to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness at my feet. “I was also there when she took the test…”
“And NO ONE thought to tell ME?!” I look back at the tv where a thousand pictures are being taken of the obviously framed baby bump as they reveal to not only me, but the world that Elias and Penelope Santos are expecting their first baby together. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“Naomi—”
“Don’t,” I snap at Graham, yanking my hand from his. “You are so going to get it later,” I seethe.
He blinks and then a slow, sensual smile spreads across his lips. “In that case,” he leans back against the couch. “I bought her the test too—”
“GRAHAM!” I scream.
“And I was the one who suggested they reveal it in the most dramatic way possible, namely to his fans,” he grins as he raises his beer to his lips. “But also, to you—”
“You sick FUCK!” I screech. “God, I could fucking strangle you!”
Graham licks his lips. “Promise?”
Cristian audibly gags. “Gross,” he mumbles, standing to go into the kitchen.
He thinks no one sees how he takes out his phone as he goes, but I so fucking notice.
He’s gone for this Saige girl, whoever she is.
Gone in the way he never was for Nelly. Gone in the way Elias now is for, over the moon, deeply enamored by his pregnant wife.
I turn back to the tv where Elias is leaning in to kiss his wife while a dozen camera flashes continue to flicker in the periphery. “Wait…” I take in their ensembles again, the matching powder blue. “Is it….?” I grab Clara by the arm as she too comes to this particular realization at the same time.
“Is it a boy?!” She gasps. “Cristian?!”
I whirl on Graham, tears welling in my eyes. “Graham?”
He smiles softly. “Yes, mi reina,” he nods. “They’re having a boy.”
My hands fly to my mouth as the tears start coming, hard and fast and Clara dives into me, wrapping her arms around my middle as we both dissolve into sobs.
A boy! Our best friend is having a baby and it’s going to be a little boy!
I take out my phone the moment Clara releases me to search for hers in the couch.