~Camila~
"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕"
Camila was adored by those in her presence due to her gentle nature and joyful demeanor.
Her inner beauty and external charm captivates the hearts and...
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"Cammie, where should I put this?" Ava asked, holding a box of fairy lights in her hand.
I scanned the beautifully decorated living room and pointed toward the far corner.
"I think it'll look better over there."
She nodded and walked off to hang them.
"Cammie, you know you need to rest," Mom said gently, coming up behind me and taking my wrist with a worried expression.
I gave her a reassuring smile.
"Mom, I'm fine. You know this might be the last time I get to help out—at least until he finds out. Then it's lockdown for the next nine months."
She smiled, eyes misting over, and placed her hand gently over my stomach.
"I'm so happy for you, my darling. I can't believe I'll be a grandma soon."
"Mom!" I hissed softly, swatting her hand away and glancing around to make sure no one saw.
"You'll ruin the surprise if you keep holding my stomach like that!"
She chuckled softly, covering her mouth.
"Oh right, sorry. So... when are you going to tell him?"
"Tomorrow," I whispered, my eyes lighting up. "It'll be one of his Christmas and birthday gift—all in one."
She clasped her hands together.
"What a perfect day. Christmas and your shared birthday. That's going to be one magical moment."
I smiled. Just thinking about it made my heart flutter.
Two weeks after I fully recovered, I went back to Orlando to visit my uncle who had been in a car accident. I passed out at the hospital, which freaked Mom out.
After a few tests, we got the unexpected—but wonderful—news. I was pregnant.
I'd wanted to tell Luciano right away, but then I had a better idea: I would save the news as a Christmas surprise.
Aunt Dariah told me Luciano never celebrated Christmas. Not only was it the holiday season, it was also both of our birthdays. After learning why he avoided celebrating, I promised myself I'd change that. I'd give him a reason to celebrate again.
"Camila, dear,"* Aunt Dariah called as she approached, carrying a plate of freshly cut cucumbers.
I groaned.
"Please tell me that's not for me."
"It is," she confirmed with a firm smile. "You need to eat it. It's healthy for you and the baby."
"But you know I hate vegetables," I whined.
She gave me a look that brooked no argument.
"That doesn't matter, sweetheart. He's going to be worse than me when he finds out. Trust me."
