bound; governed by fate or extremely likely to occur.
"Face it, Marco. You and I are bound to one another. Even after all this time, even despite the consequences of our love, you can't keep yourself away from me-and neither can I."
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L A N A | D E L | R E Y - You Must Love Me "Deep in my heart, I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say; scared to confess what I'm feeling, frightened you'll slip away..."
—
"Papa?"
"Yes, Lucia?"
"Where do babies come from?" Marco listened as his daughter asked the question that every child asked sooner or later—one which he personally dreaded, for he'd never practiced his response. It was certainly a question Jessica was better suited to answer—but she was away in Russia, shooting photos for a new beauty campaign.
It was the night before the match against Bayern Munich, and a nerve-ridden one at that. Marco had been notified of his spot on the starting eleven just hours ago, and he knew he had to thank Romessa for helping him—he just didn't know how. Especially given the fight they'd gotten into two days ago; one of what seemed like many to add to their collection. "When two people love each other," he finally began, "Then they might decide to make a baby." That's simple enough, right?
But Lucia, who peered at her father from under her cashmere blanket, wasn't satisfied. "If two people don't make a baby, do they not love each other?"
Marco blinked. "Well, not necessarily. Two people might not love each other and still have a baby...or they might love each other, and they never do have one." If you were trying to give her an answer that'd get her to sleep, then you failed.
Lucia's blue eyes were curious as she twirled the ends of her bright blonde hair, something she did whenever she was deep in thought. Her neon pink highlights had faded away—after watching Aquamarine, she requested blue, though Marco only promised to take her to the salon if she ate her vegetables every meal for a week straight. He struggled with fatherhood—not because he thought he was a bad father, but because he felt as though he was never prepared for it. But every time he looked at Lucia and realized that she was an extension of him—her cunning smile, her clever mind, and her resilience—he was reminded of how much of a gift it was to be a father; not merely a responsibility. "Are you and Jessica in love?" Finally, Lucia spoke, rubbing an eye with her small hand.
Marco blinked. Less and less every day. "Of course we are, Lulu."
"Then why don't you guys have a baby?"
Marco could've laughed, given a different circumstance. Lucia certainly wasn't the first person to beg the question—nearly everyone, everyone being the media, wondered why it was that Marco and Jessica Reus hadn't had any children together. Jessica desperately wanted one—she never failed to remind Marco of that. And it did made sense: at 34, she wasn't getting any younger. But Marco had always been reserved about having children with Jessica—his excuse was that both of their lifestyles were too hectic, and he wasn't particularly in the right headspace to have another child. "Jessica and I are both very busy," responded Marco. "It would be hard to take care of a new baby. Why do you ask, anyways?"
