I get it.I really do.I was the chubby, nerdy girl in my class too—more sugar than sparkle, more books than boys.
Nothing like my late sister Bonnie, who was born with beauty dripping off her like buttercream.
Homecoming queen.
Prom queen.
Yearbook star.
And then, tragically, gone far too soon.
Ovarian cancer took her right after Bella was born.
Some days I still forget and expect Bonnie to barrel into the kitchen with a new recipe idea or complain about her hair.
Most days, I just ache.
But I swore to her I’d take care of her little girl, and I’ve kept that promise.
Bella is mine now—and I mean that in every sense of the word.Not like she’s a possession.
She’s just mine.
My heart, my responsibility, my reason to get up at four every morning to start the dough.
Mom helps.It keeps her busy, fills the quiet spaces left behind after Dad passed.
Bella’s biological father never bothered to get in touch with Bonnie after he knocked her up and they split.
I never met him.
Bella hasn’t either.
Far as I know, Bonnie didn’t see or hear from him since the second she left his Manhattan apartment.
Afterwards, she moved back in with our parents and was already pregnant with Bella.Fast forward to Bonnie discovering she had cancer, and after a grueling battle, succumbing to that bastard of a diagnosis, and here we are now.
Bella’s being raised with all the love and care my mother and I can deliver.It’s not perfect, but it works for us.
And as far as her sperm donor goes?
Good riddance, in my opinion.
The three of us Bosco women?We’re tough.We make it work.
The bakery has a steady clientele, same as always, but since I started shipping our goods worldwide, we’re doing better than ever.
It’s not some millionaire fantasy, but it keeps us comfortable.Secure.
Life is good.
Sometimes, though?Sometimes I let myself think about the road not taken.
My real dreams.
Writing.Not books—God no.But poems.Lyrics.Tiny bursts of emotion I could tuck into melodies.
I still do it here and there, scribbling in a notebook hidden under the register.
