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The confession hit me like a physical blow. Not because I was surprised—deep down, I’d always known there was something more between us—but because hearing her say it out loud made me realize how selfish I’d been. I’d been so focused on my own desperation that I hadn’t considered what this arrangement might cost her.
“Gianna.” I stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo. “I never wanted to hurt you. If you can’t do this, if it’s asking too much?—”
“I’m not done.” She looked up at me, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’d be risking my heart, yes. But Luca would be risking his whole world. His home, his friends, his father who loves him more than anything. When I think about it that way, the choice is easy.”
My heart stopped. “You’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying yes.” She managed a watery smile. “I’ll marry you, Colby Marshall. For Luca. For as long as you need me to.”
The relief hit me so hard it left me lightheaded. I reached for her without thinking, pulling her into my arms and holding her tight against my chest. She felt perfect there, like she’d been designed to fit against me. Her hair smelled like flowers and rain, and when she wrapped her arms around my waist, I felt something settle into place that I hadn’t even realized was broken.
“Thank you,” I whispered against her hair. “God, Gianna, thank you.”
We held each other for a long moment on my front porch, two people about to embark on the biggest lie of their lives. But it didn’t feel like a lie. It felt like coming home.
“Dad! Miss G!” Luca’s voice carried through the screen door. “I ate the weird carrot! Can we have ice cream now?”
Gianna pulled back, laughing despite the tears on her cheeks. “We should go in. He’ll want to celebrate his victory over the crooked carrot.”
I caught her hand before she could step away. “We need to talk about the details. How we’re going to do this, what we tell people, when?—”
“Tomorrow,” she said firmly. “Tonight let’s just be normal. Let’s eat ice cream with your son and watch whatever cartoon he picks, and pretend this is just another evening.”
She was right. One more normal evening before everything changed forever.
We spent the next hour on the living room couch, Luca curled between us as we watched a movie about talking cars. Gianna laughed at all the right moments and made appropriate comments about the plot, but I caught her watching me instead of the screen more than once. I wondered what she was thinking, what doubts were already creeping in.
When Luca’s eyelids started drooping, I carried him upstairs for his bath and bedtime routine. He was asleep before I finished reading the second chapter of his current favorite book, one hand clutching his stuffed elephant and the other stretched toward the empty side of the bed where I sometimes slept when he had nightmares.
Gianna was washing our ice cream bowls when I came back downstairs. She’d kicked off her shoes and rolled up her sleeves, looking comfortable and familiar in my kitchen. Like she belonged there.
“He go down okay?” she asked without turning around.
“Out cold.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Now that we were alone, the weight of what we’d agreed to was settling between us.
“So,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Ground rules?”
“Probably a good idea.” She dried her hands on a dish towel and faced me. “How do we make this believable?”
“We’ll need to make it legal first. Get a marriage license, find someone to perform the ceremony. Small and private. We can say we didn’t want a big fuss.”
“People will think it’s sudden.”
“People already think we’re together half the time anyway. Cory practically told me I was an idiot for not making a move already when we had our guys night.”
Gianna’s eyebrows rose. “He said that?”
“More or less.” I studied her face, looking for any sign that Cory might have been right about Gianna’s feelings. I figured if anyone would know, it would be Cory since his wife Summer and Gianna were friends.
“Is that what people think? That we’re together?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged.
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking vulnerable.
“Does it matter what people think?” I asked.