I forced a shrug, trying to smile as if this were nothing. As if there wasn’t a war happening inside my chest. “I just don’t feel like it tonight.”
Her smirk widened. “What, are you pregnant or something?”
My mouth fell. “Yeah, Isa, that’s it. I’m knocked up. You caught me.”
Lucia perked up beside me, shoveling food into her mouth before mumbling through it, “What’s ‘knocked up’ mean?”
Daniel and Isabel exchanged one of those weary parent looks—the kind that meant “Oh no, not tonight.”
Daniel sighed, already resigned to the conversation. “It means having a baby, Luc.”
Lucia’s eyes went wide, lighting up with pure, innocent delight. She gasped dramatically, nearly knocking over her glass as she turned eagerly toward me. “You’re knocked up?”
I nearly choked on my tortilla. “No.”
“But you just said?—”
“She’s joking,” Marco cut in as if he hadn’t smiled just a moment ago—smiled at the thought of something that wasn’t supposed to be real or possible or desired at all.
Lucia slumped back in her chair, utterly betrayed. “Oh.” Then, because she was nothing if not persistent, she turned her hopeful, wide-eyed gaze toward Marco. “Would you want a baby?”
I froze.
Marco tilted his head like he was actually considering the question. “Depends.”
Lucia blinked. “On what?”
I didn’t miss the way his shoulders tightened. Marco, who could navigate every uncomfortable dinner conversation, looked genuinely unsettled at the idea of having a family. As if even the hypothetical thought of a wife—of a kid—was enough to make him cautious.
Before he could answer, Daniel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, Marco, Valentina tells me you’re a lawyer. Corporate, right?”
Marco nodded, smoothly slipping into a conversation about corporate structures, mergers, and all the boring legal jargon he somehow made sound vaguely interesting. Meanwhile, I turned my attention back to Lucia, who was now stabbing at her enchilada.
I recognized the look in her eye—thoughtful, frustrated, the same stubborn confusion I’d felt at her age. The kind that made adults sigh and teachers call home.
Sometimes I avoided seeing Lucia—not because I didn’t adore her, but precisely because I did. Because when I was with her, everything felt clearer. She reminded me too much of the girl I used to be, back when life had felt simple. Back when dreams were something you chased, not something you ran from.
Kids like Lucia made it impossible to lie—not just to them, but to yourself. They asked uncomfortable questions, saw truths you’d rather keep hidden, and made you confront things you’d been sidestepping for years. Things like motherhood, stability, and the terrifying idea that maybe you deserved something good.
Lucia didn’t just make me think; she forced me to acknowledge all the messy, complicated things I’d spent so much energy pretending weren’t there. Things I’d convinced myself I had no right to want. Things I definitely didn’t think I deserved.
Maybe that was why Lucia mattered so much. Because even at six years old, she was already better at honesty than I’d ever be. And as much as that scared me, maybe, just maybe, it was something I needed more of.
Lucia, who’d been suspiciously quiet, suddenly turned to Marco, her expression serious. “Are you going to come with us to feed the ducks again?”
He looked down at her. “Maybe.”
Lucia nodded as if this was acceptable. “Do you have a favorite kind?”
“Mallards, I think.”
Lucia gasped. “Me too!Next time I’ll bring extra bread so we can both feed them.”
Marco just nodded like it was settled. Likehe was planning on there being a next time.
I watched them—Lucia, Isabel, and Daniel—and Marco sitting right in the middle of it all. Like it waseasy for him. As if he belonged here, at this table, in this family, in a life I’dnever quite figured out how to hold onto without breaking it apart.
He caught me looking, and for a second I thought he might say something. Call me out. Ask what my problem was. Instead he just reached for his water and smiled at me like the whole thing wasn’t unraveling me thread by thread.
