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“I… what?” My brain is having trouble processing this. I know he’s serious, but who the hell gives a nineteen year old a house for her birthday?!

“Your mother is going to kill me if I break you,” he grumbles, fishing out his phone.

“No. I’m fine, but I’m trying to wrap my head around this. We were just talking about waiting.”

“I am terribly impatient, mija. Ask Julia. I am too old to wait for things.”

“You’re not old,” I squeal, trying to keep my voice down.

“I mean, I’m not decrepit or anything. After all, I run a successful business with people I trust,” he chuckles. “However, I want to know that the process to buy this house is in the works before I leave. Please don’t say you can’t accept it. Gifts without strings don’t count as ever being too large.”

“I accepted the apartment because I couldn’t be homeless and pregnant,” I sigh.

“In no world would we allow you to be homeless, pregnant or not,” Emil grumbles. “Imagine not having to deal with an elevator and having your own space. Didn’t your mom tell me the other day that the walls are thin?”

“My neighbors have very loud sex sometimes,” I say, blushing. “The neighbor on the other side of me tends to listen to her audiobook on the loudest setting. I know all about her reading habits, and it’s very high steam smut.”

“I love that for her, but my great-grandson doesn’t need to hear any of that.”

“Ugh. Okay. Let the record stand that I’m not complaining. I love this apartment⁠—”

“You’re outgrowing it,” Emil says with a proud, shit-eating grin as he connects a call. “Rachelle? She said I could buy her a house.”

“Did she actually say that, or did you convince her?” she asks.

“Two things can be true,” I reply innocently while he shrugs.

“Ugh, he’s corrupting you,” Rachelle says. “I was going to mention moving in a couple of months, but Emil has no chill.”

“I am impatient, daughter. I don’t like to wait and twiddle my thumbs.”

“This is true. Ah, happy birthday?”

“You’re all ridiculous. Thank you so much. I have no idea what to say, other than this is insane.”

“Wait until you see what he talks you into. Emil Reyes doesn’t do anything small,” she says.

“I’m sitting right here,” he grumbles. “Want to go for a walk with me, Noor?”

“Is this code for ‘let’s get into trouble’?”

“With him? Always. How is Zayn behaving for the birthday girl?”

“He’s an angel,” I confess.

“He’s sleeping on my chest. I want to try one of those wrap contraptions that Noor wears.”

“Please take a photo,” Rachelle laughs. “I need to frame that. Have fun getting into trouble.”

“We will,” Emil says proudly, saying goodbye. “Okay, suit me up. How hard can it be?”

I decide to use a ring sling because my grandfather is so tall, but I have to admit that he wears a baby well. Zayn is tucked inside the sling and continues to sleep with his head on Emil’s chest as we head out on our walk.

I won’t bother to change out of my yoga clothes until later, and Emil doesn’t mention anything about it. My diaper bag feels different on my back without a baby to even out the weight, and I keep glancing at Zayn to check on him.

“If this is giving you anxiety, I can switch,” Emil says, sneaking a glance at me as we leave the building.

“It’s just weird,” I admit. “I know he’s fine. Besides, this way you get your baby fix. I have plenty of time to snuggle him later.”