Chapter 4

When my mom arrived, it was with all the energy and excitement I had been expecting of her. A vibrant storm, blowing right into our comfy, quiet little home. Her energy was immediately overwhelming, but all Mal and I could do was standing there smiling politely as they tumbled in—Mom first, fawning over the house as usual, while Simon followed in after her, heaving several bags with him. I saw an old and familiar blanket hanging out of one.

“Why so many bags?” I asked Mom as she was cooing over Marina, who was in her bassinet in the living room. “How long do you plan to be here?”

Mom batted her eyes at me, looking sweet and innocent. “Well, I suppose as long as you need us to be here. And most of this is for Marina, don’t worry. I wouldn’t be a good lola if I didn’t bring gifts for my granddaughter.”

I looked around at the plethora of belongings cluttering the foyer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Mom was moving in.

It wasn’t that I minded the unexpected visit, but I would have much rather had a few days of privacy after having so many people buzzing around me in the hospital for days on end.

“There are five more bags in the car,” Simon said, sounding as deadpan as always. I could feel the stress prickle at my ribs. I wanted to protest, but Mal stepped in to take over the conversation for me. He thanked Mom for being so thoughtful and watched as she dropped all her bags to the floor with a thud—all but one, at least.

“I’m going to make chicken adobo for us,” she told Mal as she put Marina down. “Work up your appetite.”

I made eye contact with Simon, who shrugged as if to say,

, and headed back to the car for more bags. I spun around, feeling a little lost in the moment, and managed to find Mal’s eyes as he was leading Mom into the kitchen. She had been here five minutes, and she was already commandeering my freaking kitchen. And my mate.

I heard Mal ask, his voice clear and calm in my mind.

, he said.

My lungs burned a little as I sighed deeply with relief.

, Mal replied.

Mal was tugged into the kitchen before we could share another thought, and behind me, the front door swung open with a cry. Simon trudged inside, dumping more bags on the ground, and then stopped to stretch his back and look around. He let out a whistle and said, “Damn, nice place. It’s huge. How many bedrooms?” I didn’t answer. He turned and took in the foyer. “Must be nice having a rich boyfriend. I should get myself one, too.”

I reached for the couch and chucked one of the decorative pillows at him. “How are you here anyway? Don’t classes start soon?”

Simon looked away, watching Leonard as he sniffed at his pant legs. He leaned down and scooped the cat up. Leonard mewled and wiggled unhappily in his arms. It was like Simon to ignore me, but this was different. Something was awfully suspicious about the way he avoided eye contact. Eventually, he gave a sigh and said, “I’ll be taking the train to the city soon, but I wanted to spend some time with my niece.”

There was something off in his voice as well, but I couldn’t quite grasp what it was. Before I could ask, Marina began to fuss from her bassinet. Simon and I crossed the room to her, and I stopped her rocker to scoop her out. Immediately, I was hit with the stink of a dirty diaper. “Oh, does someone need a diaper change? You’re probably hungry, too, huh?” I cooed, sweeping her up and carrying her up the stairs to her changing table. Simon was right on my heels. The moment I laid her down and unbuttoned her onesie, Simon retreated.

“Wait, you’re not gonna, like,

her in front of me, right?”

“Relax,” I laughed, picking up her legs to clean her behind. I chucked her dirty diaper into the bin and said, “She’s not hungry right now.” He hung back while I applied a fresh diaper and buttoned her back up, and when she was clean and settled, I turned to him with the tiny thing in my arms.

“Marina, this is your tito, Simon.”

Simon wrinkled his nose—partly at the smell in the room and partly at the name

. “Don’t call me that, it makes me sound old.”

“Well, you’ll just have to deal with it,” I said with a laugh. “One day, I’ll be Tita Shay—and let’s be honest, that sounds even worse.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Well, not anytime soon. Not unless I make some very big mistakes.” But there was a beat of hesitation as a look crossed Simon’s face. “Actually, I might’ve…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I interrupted. “You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking. I swear to god, Simon—”

Simon laughed and reached out to touch Marina’s tiny hands. “I’m definitely joking. But now that I’m seeing her in person, it doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Tell that to the poor girl who’s gotta push the thing out,” I said. “Besides, you’re not ready to be a dad.”

“And Mal was ready?” Simon asked. He didn’t sound judgmental, rather curious. Like this was his way of asking if Mal was a good father.

“Yes. He was. He is. He’s been amazing,” I said. “In fact, he was the first one to change a diaper. He changes her, burps her—she’s even spat up all over him.” I laughed fondly, remembering the way Mal looked around in a panic while he had baby puke dripping down his shoulder.

“Yeah, maybe this isn’t for me,” Simon said. He looked down at his niece and added quietly, “Yet. You know, she kinda looks like me.”

She did have Simon’s and my nose, but I thought she certainly looked more like Mal than anyone. I looked from the baby to her uncle and stepped closer to offer her over. “Do you want to hold her?”

His hands snapped back and he held them in the air in front of him. “No—no, hell no. I don’t want to break my niece. Let her get a little bigger—or let me get used to how little she is, first.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d never seen Simon so afraid of something before in my life. “Fine, but we’ll make a real tito of you yet.”

We headed back down to find Mom in the kitchen with Mal. I couldn’t stifle my laugh as I spotted the uncomfortable look on Mal’s face. He was backed into a corner, stiff as a board, while Mom buzzed around the kitchen, willing to steamroll anything that got in her way. She was a furious cook, Mom. Simon and I had learned at a young age to vacate the kitchen when she was in a cooking kind of mood.

“Where’s your whisk? What about your stand mixer? Oh—I wish I’d brought more supplies.” She was shoving open cabinets and cupboards in search of various things, and Mal was trying desperately to stay out of her way.

I studied his face and sent him a thought—echoing exactly what he’d asked me just a few moments ago.

you

Mal shrugged. Dancing quickly out of her path as Mom went on the hunt for a specific piece of cookware.

,

I replied.

Mal smirked at me.

I felt a little bit of a sting at that. I couldn’t imagine life without a mother, and I wondered what kind of things Mal endured as a child beyond what he’d told me. I knew he respected his father, but I knew he’d longed for his mother.

I stepped into the kitchen with him, gently placing Marina in his arms.

,

Mal replied.

I turned to Mom, peering over the pile of ingredients on the counter. By the looks of it, she definitely brought more than she needed. I was resisting the urge to unbag it all and place everything in organized piles. I watched her whip a pan onto the stove and asked, “Need help with anything?”

“Excuse me, young lady,” Mom said, pointing her spatula at me. “You’re supposed to be resting. Childbirth takes so much out of you. Get your butt out of here and go sit down. Your body needs time to heal after all that work.” Her eyes shifted to Marina, and a glow washed over her face. “Oh, there’s my grandbaby!” She swept her gently out of Mal’s arms—though I could feel the discomfort seeping off him. It would take some getting used to, allowing others to hold our baby. I supposed it was normal to be a little overprotective at first.

, Mal reminded me, his voice echoing in my head.

I nodded to myself. My mother had raised me well. And if she could handle Simon as a sniffling little brat, she could handle anything.

“My love,” Mom was cooing to Marina. “I’m your lola, and you will never want for anything while I’m around. Do you understand?”

It was strange watching someone else cradle and rock my child, but I couldn’t help the smile that stretched over my face.

,

I told Mal.

There was the sound of the front door slamming open, and Mal and I stilled as we looked toward the foyer. I was expecting Simon to come flying in with yet another bag, but instead it was Zaid who trudged into the kitchen. He froze when he saw us all, looking a little caught in the headlights.

Mom clutched Marina close to her chest, a panic washing over her face. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want? Why are you in my kitchen? What do you want?”

All of this seemed to confuse Zaid—particularly the last bit. “

kitchen?” he asked. “I’m…Zaid?”

I stepped in quickly. “Oh, Zaid is our friend. He’s welcome here anytime. And yeah, what do you mean by

kitchen?”

Mom still looked a little skeptical of Zaid. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she swatted at the air. “Oh, you know what I mean. What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is yours. Yadda yadda.”

I examined Zaid, noting the concerned look on his face. Something told me it had nothing to do with meeting my mother. “Mal,” I said, gesturing to Zaid with my eyes.

,

I mind-linked.

Mal looked Zaid over and moved across the kitchen toward him. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Zaid glanced across the kitchen to Mom. Then to me, and back to Mal. “Something’s wrong at the bar. I need you to come with me. Now.”