Chapter 33

THIRTY-THREE

“ C lose your eyes!”

I grinned but did no such thing. I wanted to soak it all in.

It was the kind of homemade party I had grown up with. My grandmother’s house was jam-packed with Zolas, Scarrones, Ortizes, and all number of friends and neighbors who had known me since childhood and onward. The dining table was piled with potluck dishes—two platters of Nonna’s lasagna, antipasti from the Vincent’s, homemade pasteles and empanadas, plus bottles of wine and rum arranged across the kitchen counter that was now acting as a bar. Pink and blue streamers stretched across the ceilings of the living and dining rooms to celebrate the babies on the way—the baby who was now due in six weeks and the little girl Matthew and Nina were expecting in about two.

Right now, the stereo was blasting a playlist Joni had made by a friend of hers who electronically mixed rat pack standards with bachata and salsa beats. It made for a surprising amalgamation that satisfied all age groups in attendance—the younger kids enjoyed the beats while the elders could dance to salsa while singing along with Dean Martin.

I was resting my feet in one of Nonna’s wingback chairs, just taking it all in. It was eons away from the luxe lifestyle I’d been living with Xavier for the last several months. To my surprise, I was becoming accustomed to the little benefits of being married to a man richer than God. Things like using a hot water dispenser at the sink instead of waiting for the kettle to boil. Or buying organic almond butter whenever I liked instead of saving up for my guilty pleasure. Having a car at my disposal at any time of day instead of arranging my schedule around public transportation.

These didn’t ultimately matter in the grand scheme of things, and I didn’t exactly mind the way it used to be. Nothing compared anyway to the comfort I felt right here, surrounded by all the people I loved.

I had two homes now, I realized.

One was here, in the house where I’d been raised, a place my siblings and I would always identify as a safe haven, no matter how old we got. And we’d passed that safety along to our kids. Sofia was scampering around with her cousins like she had all her life, and had taken Olivia, Matthew’s new stepdaughter, under her wing as the other girl in the family. Nina watched her daughter with a shining face, and I knew without a doubt that their new baby girl would no more be a stranger to this group than Xavier’s and my son. Our family lasted. Always.

Another part of me that yearned for the quiet home Xavier and I were building for ourselves just a little further away.

We’d stayed in London through Christmas, taking a few more months to tie up loose ends before coming home for the foreseeable future. Henry’s secret journals lay safe in a vault deep inside Coutts, where the Parkers (along with half of England’s aristocrats) had stowed their most valuable treasures and secrets since the sixteen hundreds. It took some time, but in the end, Xavier had decided to keep the title his real father had fought so hard for him to have, though he did give up his hereditary seat in the House of Lords. Should the day come when someone or other wanted to hold the matter of his legitimacy over his head, we had the evidence that would confirm his claim, even if it would potentially blow up another man’s world.

Not that we worried much about it. The only other person who knew about the journals was Bernard Douglas, the Viscount of Ortham, who was now an entirely useful advocate in Parliament. Discovering that we not only knew about his past but didn’t judge him for it made Lord Ortham even warmer toward Xavier. Like an uncle, maybe. Or a stepfather.

But even more important was that, for the first time in his life, Xavier’s world was a matter of his own choice. Not someone else’s. Not hostage to a signature or one man’s recognition.

It belonged to him.

Henry had given him that, even if unwittingly.

Maybe, deep down, Henry Parker knew that every person deserved the truth. Especially since, in our case, it really did set us free.

It was in that spirit that Xavier and I had purchased a townhouse on Riverside Drive, one of the quietest parts of the Upper West Side. Initially, I had argued that we should wait to make a decision on where to live until we knew which school I was going to attend next fall. Xavier, however, was fully aware that Columbia was at the top of my list, just like it was when we first met, and wouldn’t believe in anything other than my immanent acceptance.

“I’d never bet on failure,” he’d told me when we toured the house right after the new year. “Not when it comes to you, babe.”

And then he had proceeded, in very Xavier-like fashion, to lay out a perfectly logical argument about the centrality of the Upper West Side to all the other boroughs, no matter where I was accepted. That, combined with the fact that it was my very favorite part of the city and, of course, where we’d first met, won me over.

Xavier had always understood the unique combination of whimsy and pragmatism that enchanted the path to my heart.

“Frankie!” Lea barked from the other side of the kitchen counter. “For God’s sake, Nina’s cooperating. Stop being so difficult so we can freaking surprise you!”

“Better do what she says, babe,” Xavier murmured. “I tried to offer advice on how to dice the onions for the sauce yesterday, and I thought your sister was going to chop my balls up instead.”

I snickered, too easily imagining Lea waving a knife Xavier’s way, but obeyed and shut my eyes.

“Finally,” Lea breathed. “Come on, Katie. These things weigh a ton.”

I squinted with one eye open in time to watch Lea and Katie walk into the room, each bearing one of the familiar sheet cakes from Gino’s. One was decorated in pink for Nina’s baby, the other in blue for us. Both were outlined with ribbons of thick, buttery icing, scrawled with “It’s a Boy!” and “It’s a Girl!” on our respective sides, along with appropriately colored rattles.

“Do you think we should tell them the tech made a mistake?” I murmured to Xavier, who just grinned. “That we have no idea what the sex really is and won’t find out until the baby is born?”

“Do you think I want to tell Lea she might be wrong in front of sixty members of her closest friends and relatives?” he responded. “I’d still like to be able to make a third baby with you, Ces.”

My jaw dropped. “You’d like to what ?”

Xavier just offered me his patented shark-like grin—one of many that was appearing more and more frequently. “One day, maybe.” He leaned in close so his scent of fire, salt, and man could drive the shock off my face and replace it with pure desire. “Woman, I’d make a dozen babies with you, if you were willing.”

Before I could reply, he nipped my ear, then delivered a kiss to my cheek that somehow managed to be chaste enough for our family audience and still set the rest of my skin alight.

“Congratulations!” Lea and Katie said together, which prompted the rest of the crowd to offer varying iterations of the same thing in Italian, English, and Spanish as Nina and I both leaned over to blow out our candles. Then they all blew up in applause the way only people from this neighborhood, causing both Nina and me to laugh so hard we almost started crying while Xavier and Matthew looked on with the proud expressions of expectant fathers. I even caught my overprotective brother offer Xavier a handshake and a slap on the back—a far cry from a fistfight in the Mediterranean.

A bit of guilt pulled at my stomach as I watched Xavier accept this kind of love for maybe the first time in his life. Whenever we had these moments, it would hit me just how much I had taken from him the first time. The parties and celebrations, first steps or smiles, or just the opportunity to be part of a family like this. The kind of family Xavier had, in his heart, always wanted.

And then, like it always did, the feeling passed when he turned to me, blue eyes shining with love and forgiveness, and squeezed my hand. Because he knew what I was thinking. Just like he knew that while neither of us could change the mistakes of the past, we could look to the future and love each other as best we could, moving forward.

We could make that choice every day for each other.

And we did.

Two slices of cake and several toasts later, I was watching Xavier and Matthew engaging in a rousing game of tag with the littles in the backyard when Joni came to stand next to me.

She tossed back what smelled like a very strong rum and Coke to my oversensitive nose, then leaned her forehead against the sliding glass door and heaved a great sigh that clouded half the pane of glass.

Joni was never much for subtlety.

“You okay?” I asked with a hand on her shoulder.

I’d noticed something had been off all afternoon. Usually, Joni was the life of the party, flirting with half the boys in the neighborhood and several of their fathers too. Today, however, she’d been pouting in the corner for a while now, giving one-word answers when approached, ignoring all five of the Ramirez boys, and casting nasty looks at Lea and Nonna every few minutes. Most likely, Lea and Nonna had vetoed an inappropriate wardrobe choice or maybe embarrassed her in front of one of her friends.

But instinct told me it was something more. Just like Joni wasn’t one to avoid the spotlight, she also wasn’t one to hold a grudge for longer than thirty minutes.

My baby sister sighed again. “I just got some really, really bad news this morning.” She cast another long look at Nonna across the room. “Look at her. Laughing away like she didn’t just toss me to the curb this morning like yesterday’s trash.”

“Nonna kicked you out?”

I frowned toward Nonna, who was in classic gossip mode with her best friend, Mrs. Castanetta. That didn’t sound like my grandmother at all. She wasn’t exactly easy on us, but she’d provided a landing place our whole lives. Granted, Joni was the baby and maybe needed to be pushed out of the nest a bit, but she was still only twenty-four, and New York was expensive. Maybe I was jaded, but we’d all assumed she’d just live with our grandmother until someone put a ring on it and housed her somewhere else.

“Yep,” Joni replied bitterly. “I’m officially homeless. Nonna’s getting rid of the house.”

My head snapped back to my sister. “She’s selling the house?”

A pang of fear lodged itself deep in my gut. Even though I’d probably never live here again, the thought of this place no longer being available was scarier than an act of revelation.

Joni shook her head. “Even worse. She’s renting it so she has a little extra cash-o-la coming in while she frolics all over Europe like a ho.”

Fear melted into annoyance. “Joni! Don’t talk about Nonna like that.”

“Oh, please,” she snarked, tossing back another mouthful of Coke-flavored rum. “What do you think she’s going there for? The good pasta? She spends three whole months there this fall, comes back for Christmas, then jets back for another three months until the shower and my downfall. She’s obviously met someone. Or someones.”

“Or maybe she’s reconnecting with her family for the first time in decades,” I said back. “She’s spent most of her life taking care of kids and grandkids. It’s about time she takes care of herself. You can’t really hold that against her.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Joni whined. “I only just went back to work at the lounge, but they haven’t even promoted me to bartender yet. I barely make enough to pay my cell phone bill, much less cover rent anywhere within two hours of the city.” She snorted. “Watch me have to move to like Buffalo or something just to survive.”

“What about dance?” I asked. “I thought that’s what you were working toward. You’ve been out of surgery for six months now. Are you still doing your PT exercises at home and everything?”

Joni shook her head. “I—I just can’t risk it. It’s not going to happen for me anymore.”

I bit my lip, concerned. This was worse than I’d thought. The last we’d spoken about her injury—which admittedly hadn’t been for several months—I got the impression that Joni was on the road to recovering her once-burgeoning dance career.

Now she’d given up completely on the one thing she’d ever been proud of.

“Wow, Jo. Gosh, I’m so sorry.”

She slumped against the window. “It’s fine. I’m dealing with it.” Then she tossed back the rest of her drink and stared at the empty cup. “Looks like I’m due for a refill.” She turned around, clearly looking for the bar full of drinks. “Looks like Johnny Ramirez is still pouring cocktails. Maybe if I flirt with him enough, he’ll convince his parents to give me the spare room in their attic.”

It was a joke. Or I thought. But something in her voice truly broke my heart. My little sister was in the process of losing, well, if not her innocence, then some kind of faith in the world. The belief that no matter what happens, everything will turn out all right in the end.

It’s a sad realization that everyone has to have when they truly grow up.

Happy endings come to those who make them, not those who wait for them.

“Joni,” I said again, reaching out to keep her from doing something stupid.

But she shook me off.

“Don’t,” Joni replied too sharply to be a product of alcohol. “Don’t pity me like that unless you’re willing to help, Frankie.”

Without waiting for a reaction, she weaved her way through the party to where the Ramirez brothers were waiting, both eager as always to bask in the attention of Belmont’s biggest flirt.

I sighed. There wasn’t much I could do. Some things Joni was just going to have to learn on her own.

“All right?”

The screen door opened behind me, and Xavier wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me against his chest.

I nuzzled into his forearm and sighed with contentment. “I’m fine. Joni, though…”

I told him about our conversation. By the end, Xavier was frowning compassionately.

“Poor girl,” he said. “It’s rough, being tossed out on your own for the first time. I don’t care what the circumstances are.” Then his eyes blinked open a bit wider. “She’s not going to ask to live with us, is she? Seriously, we don’t have that much room with the construction.”

I’d personally thought the new house was fine as-is, but Xavier had insisted on opening up two full floors to accommodate the needs of a world-class kitchen and a primary suite on the floor below the kids for our…privacy. When I asked why, Xavier only said it was his right as my husband to make me scream as loud as he liked.

I wasn’t about to argue with that.

Right now, however, we were confined to a kitchenette in the attic and three small bedrooms.

As if in answer to new uncle’s question, Lea’s youngest opened her mouth and delivered a world-class shriek. Across the room, Joni visibly shuddered.

“I doubt it,” I told him. “There’s a reason she never wanted to live with Lea’s family either, even after they inherited Mike’s parents’ place and had five bedrooms. If anything, she’ll try to bum off Kate.”

Xavier thought for a moment. “Should we offer the Red Hook house? It’s not too late to back out of the lease. We could talk to your brother.”

Matthew, ever the protective eldest Zola kid, still insisted my name remain on the deed of the house, even after Xavier and I had gotten married. I really didn’t need it anymore, but we were now co-owners of yet another safety net.

“Just in case,” he’d said with a cryptic look at my husband, whom I had a feeling Matthew would always want to punch a little. And judging from Xavier’s glare in return, it was a feeling that went both ways.

I also had a feeling I knew what Matthew would say to that proposition—exactly what I was thinking when it came to Joni.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think maybe Joni needs to figure this one out on her own first. Or at least try.”

“I’m surprised,” Xavier said. “You and I both know how hard it can be out there on your own. Why make it worse for her than it has to be?”

I thought about that for a moment. “I mean, I’d never leave her homeless or anything. And part of me wants to help more. But it’s not like Joni has a baby to support or is incapable or anything. She’s just a twenty-four-year-old who needs to learn to be on her own.”

I turned in his arms to look at him. Even with my belly putting a bit more space between us than we liked, Xavier was big enough that his hands still caught my waist with ease.

“You have to understand. Ever since she was a baby, Joni’s had everyone doing everything for her. She didn’t learn to walk until she was maybe fifteen months because we carried her everywhere. Never had to do homework on her own because we’d step in and help her. She didn’t even learn to tie her shoes until she was maybe twelve because someone would always give in and do it to get us out the door.” I shrugged. “If Nonna’s kicking her out, I think it’s for a good reason. She probably knows the same thing—Joni’s got to grow up. We shouldn’t stand in the way of that.”

Xavier didn’t argue, just smiled at me. “Look at my smart wife. God, you’re a good mum, Ces.”

I grinned. “Even to my baby sister?”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “To anyone who needs it. But especially our babies.”

Automatically, I set a hand atop my belly, imagining the little one within. Who they might be. What they might look like. Life was about to change drastically for our family, but instead of being afraid of those changes, I honestly couldn’t wait.

I wanted to see the look on Xavier’s face when he held the little creature for the first time. What songs he would sing when he rocked them to sleep. How he’d feel the first time they’d take their first steps or say “Dada” out loud.

If there was anything Xavier and I were supposed to be together, it was a family. Of that, I had no doubt. Adding to that family would only add joy.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Xavier said after delivering a kiss that left me breathless.

I chuckled. “You’re not really making sex jokes in the middle of our baby shower, are you?”

He snorted. “No. Although I wouldn’t mind dirtying up your childhood bedroom while the party goes on. No, it’s this. Arrived in the mail this morning. I snagged it on our way out.”

He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to me. Immediately, I spotted the return address in the top left corner: Columbia University.

All my breath left me as I took the letter, then looked up at Xavier as terror skittered up my arms and into my chest.

“Oh, fuck,” I murmured.

Xavier chuffed. “Better not let Sof hear you. I know you’re afraid if you’re using that word.”

“Open it.” I thrust the letter at him. “Please, Xavi. I’m too scared…”

He opened his mouth to say no, then tipped his head as he seemed to sense something on my face that shouldn’t be pressed too far. “All right.”

I shifted between the balls of my feet as he ripped open the envelope and read the letter silently to himself.

It took forever.

“Come on,” I demanded impatiently. “Xavi! What does it say?”

“Hold on, I’m reading all of it.” He seemed determined to torture me as he continued, forcing me to wait far longer than necessary.

“Xavi!”

Finally, Xavier looked up from the letter with a sly grin, blue eyes dancing. “Does this mean I’ll get to call you Professor Parker when we’re in bed, my love?”

I grinned, pinked with pleasure at both the ideas of my husband’s moves and being addressed that way by anyone. “Give me that.”

There it was. The official words I’d been dying to see for the last three months—really the last six years, ever since I’d been a master’s student at CUNY, hanging out on Amsterdam Avenue and studying at the Morningside campus, dreaming of the days when I could be a part of the most venerated institution in the city of my birth.

Dear Ms. Zola,

We are pleased to offer you admission to the PhD program in English Literature at Columbia University…

The rest of the words of my acceptance letter faded away as other visions took their place.

I could see it now.

Lecture halls full of students. Mountains of papers to grade. Presentations at MLA. Tenure meetings. Being part of a community of scholars as passionate about literature as I’d always been.

Heck, maybe I’d even get a corduroy blazer with patches on the elbows. I wondered if Xavier would mind if I ever needed glasses. Knowing him, he’d probably make me wear them in bed with nothing else on. Give a whole new meaning to being “hot for teacher.”

I looked up at that strong, talented, mercurial, impossibly beautiful husband of mine. Hope and happiness glittered in his sapphire blue eyes, and I knew mine radiated the same emotions right back at him.

“Happy?” he asked as he leaned down to press his lips to mine.

I nodded. “So happy.”

And I meant it.

Because whatever the future held, as duke and duchess, chef and professor, or husband and wife, we’d face it together.

And I, for one, couldn’t wait.