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I thought about the question, really thought about it. When had the arrangement become genuine? Was it the first night Luca called me Mom? The morning I woke up and realized I belonged in Colby’s bed, in his house, in his life? The moment I stopped thinking about an exit strategy and started planning a future?
“I think it was real from the beginning,” I said quietly. “I just took a while to admit it to myself.”
“Then that’s what you tell the judge. That love doesn’t always start with romance and flowers and perfect timing. Sometimes it starts with showing up, with choosing someone every day, with building something together one moment at a time.”
Her words hit something deep in my chest. She was right, our love story wasn’t conventional, but it was ours. We’d built something beautiful from legal necessity and shared responsibility and two hearts that had been ready to love each other all along.
“What if it’s not enough?” I asked.
“What if it is?”
After Summer left, I spent the morning finishing arrangements and trying not to check the clock every five minutes. But time moved with relentless inevitability towardthe hearing, and by eleven o’clock I couldn’t focus on flowers anymore.
I was cleaning my workstation when the shop door chimed. I looked up expecting another customer and found my mother standing in the doorway, elegant and uncertain in a way that was completely unlike her.
“Mom?” I set down my spray bottle, shocked. “What are you doing here?”
“I flew in this morning.” She stepped inside carefully, taking in the shop with curious eyes. “I wanted to be here. For the hearing.”
“How did you . . . I didn’t tell you about the hearing.”
“Colby called me yesterday. He explained what was happening, what you were facing.” Her voice was gentler than I’d heard in years. “He asked if I could come. Said you might need your family today.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. Colby had called my mother, had reached out to the woman who’d been largely absent from my life, because he knew I was scared and wanted me to have support. Even in the middle of his own crisis, he’d thought about what I needed.
“You didn’t have to come,” I said.
“Yes, I did.” She moved closer, and I caught the familiar scent of her perfume, the same one she’d worn when I was little. “I know I haven’t been the mother you deserved, Gianna. I know I let my own fears and mistakes create distance between us. But you’re my daughter, and you’re in trouble, and that means I’m here.”
“Mom . . .”
“I met him again, you know, this time as your husband and stepson. Colby. And Luca. They picked me up from the airport. Luca gave me flowers and called me Grandma.” Her smile was soft, genuine. “That man loves you, sweetheart. It’s written allover his face when he talks about you. And that little boy . . .” she paused and shook her head. “He’s so proud to tell people about his mom.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “They’re everything to me.”
“I can see that. I can see how happy you are, even scared as you are right now.” She reached out and touched my cheek, a gesture I remembered from childhood. “Whatever happens in that courtroom today, don’t let anyone tell you that what you have isn’t real. I’ve been married three times, and I’ve never seen love like what I saw in Colby’s eyes when he talked about you.”
By the time I got home, Colby was pacing the living room in his best suit, tie slightly askew and hair showing signs of repeated finger-combing. He looked up when I walked in, relief flooding his face.
“There you are. I was starting to worry.” He crossed to me in three quick strides, pulling me into his arms. “How are you holding up?”
“Better now.” I breathed in his familiar scent, drawing strength from his solid presence. “My mother’s here.”
“I know. I picked her up this morning. I hope that was okay, I just thought you might want family there today.”
I pulled back to look at him, marveling again at his thoughtfulness. “It was perfect. Thank you. Where’s Luca?”
“Still at school. I didn’t want him there for this. Kay’s picking him up and keeping him until we’re done.”
Smart. Luca didn’t need to see his parents’ marriage dissected in a courtroom, didn’t need to witness the legal system questioning the foundation of his family.
“Are you ready?” Colby asked.
I straightened his tie and smoothed his hair, taking comfort in the simple intimacy of caring for him. “As ready as I can be.”
“Whatever happens in there, we face it together.”
“Together,” I agreed.