Page 92 of The Boyfriend List
Raina and I were in the same stages of life for so long that watching her go through all these life milestones without me feels… lonely. This moment feels like just another reminder of how separate our lives have become. We’re not two parallel lines, unable to meet—more like two lines of a triangle, starting in the same place but doomed to be angled outwards from each other.
"Gloria," Raina says admonishingly. "Come on. Just because our lives keep changing doesn't mean I'll ever stop having time for you. Yes, I'm going to be busier, and I'm going to ask you to help me babysit so I can take a nap or whatever, but that doesn't mean we'll stop being friends. Our friendship has made it through me marrying a total stranger and moving to another country. Why wouldn't it survive me having a baby?"
I sigh. "I don't know. I guess after everything with London… I'm still reeling. And I'm scared that I'll lose you and him."
"You haven't lost him, or me. He loves you more than life itself." Raina practically crushes my hand in her grip, then squeezes her eyes shut as a wave of pain racks her. "But I'm about to lose my mind here if I don't have this baby."
I laugh and shake out my hand. Raina lets out an ear-splitting shriek. Her doula and obstetrician coach her to breathe and to push, while Raina keeps on letting out short little breaths that sound like she’s trying not to scream.
“Kostas,” she pants out. “I want… my… husband.”
Kostas takes that as his cue to come back into the room and grab her hand. A few more minutes pass, in which I awkwardly fix my gaze anywhere but on the delivery bed while the OB-GYN tells Raina to push.
Finally, the cry of a baby pierces the air. The doctor announces, “Congratulations. You have a healthy baby girl!”
“A girl?” Kostas repeats, looking like he might pass out.
“Little Nellie,” Raina murmurs, cooing over her baby already. I smile as I watch them, unsure if I should go closer or let them have their time together in their happy little bubble. Penelope Helena Vasileiou gives an eardrum-shattering wail that makes us laugh.
“She has strong lungs,” the doctor says. “That’s good.”
Moments later, Skye Holland, Leo Perez, Kostas' grandma and his stepmom, Helen, walk into the delivery room. They’re holding an enormous bouquet of flowers that's decorated with a ribbon around the vase bearing the Vasileious' royal family crest. As well, they’ve brought balloons and a gift basket, wearing bright smiles. I'm surprised Skye and Leo's two young kids are here before I realize that a delivery room might not be the best place for them, due to all the germs and chaos.
“Skye! Leo!” Raina’s eyes brighten when she sees her sister-in-law and brother. She lifts a hand to weakly wave at them from the bed while the doctor helps her and the baby get cleaned up.
Next, Raina says her hellos to Yiayia and Helen, as she strokes her baby’s hair. An outpouring of family greetings are exchanged.
Raina, Kostas, and their baby form a cozy family near the delivery bed. Skye and Leo gush over Penelope’s delicate features. Helen and Yiayia chatter about how perfect the baby looks and snap a million pictures. I offer to take a picture of all of them together.
The Aguilar-Vasileiou family has just gained their newest member. As for me, I’m comforted knowing that while Raina and I may be on different paths, we’ll make sure we never lose track of each other.
Chapter Thirty-Five: London
Gloria’s been home for two days and like a coward, I still haven’t talked to her.
Well, that’s not entirely true. She sent me a picture of herself holding Raina’s new baby, Penelope, and I texted back an appropriately enthusiastic exclamation.
But I haven’t seen her. I haven’t asked to meet. She’s respected my need for time and space to process, though I assume she’s getting impatient with me.
But I need to talk to her properly. I should have picked her up from the airport holding flowers or something, but I can’t just reunite with her as if nothing has happened.
I need her to know how much she means to me. How I’ve changed my perspective about having kids. My talk with my siblings left me both feeling more hopeful yet more emotionally drained. I haven’t had the energy or the know-how to put towards reconciling with Gloria.
Which is probably why I’m desperate enough to take dating advice from Giorgio. A man who’s been on more dates—and been rejected more often—than anyone I know.
We meet at a cramped sports bar. He orders beer; I’ve sworn off alcohol since the wedding. I fill him in on everything that’s happened.
“You have to be kidding me," Giorgio says. "You had the perfect vacation planned with Gloria, you were finally going to meet her family and do all that lovey-dovey stuff, and you just backed out?"
"My parents are going through some hard stuff," I say. “Actually… Never mind.”
"Hey." Giorgio drops his usual swagger and bravado. "I know we give each other a hard time a lot, but we're still friends, London. You can tell me things."
Gloria's words flit through my mind. That I could let her in. That I didn't have to carry the weight of all my problems by myself.
I tell him about how I felt about my parents and my responsibilities toward them. “Now they’re getting divorced. Where does that leave me?”
"You think your efforts were wasted. Or that you failed," he says.
