Page 8

It wouldn’t, but Lyla had money, and lots of it.
The thought made my chest tight with anger and protectiveness. Luca deserved better than that. He deserved a mother who showed up, a home where he felt safe, adults who put his needs first.
That’s exactly what Colby provided for Luca.
Maybe that’s what this really came down to. Not my feelings for Colby, not my dreams of having a family, but my love for a six-year-old boy who called me when he was scared and saved his best hugs for me.
I picked up my phone and dialed Colby’s number before I could change my mind.
“Hey,” he answered on the second ring, his voice cautious.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”
“And?”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling like I was standing at the edge of a cliff. “And I think we should talk. Not about the practical stuff but about what this really means. For all of us.”
“Okay.” Relief flooded his voice. “When?”
“Tonight. After Luca goes to bed. We need to be completely honest with each other about what we’re getting into.”
“Gianna—”
“This isn’t a yes, Colby. But it’s not a no either. It’s a conversation we should have had three years ago.”
After I hung up, I sat in my office chair feeling like I’d just lit a fuse on something explosive. Tonight, I would finally tell my best friend that I’d been in love with him since the night he’d cried in my arms.
Tonight, I would find out if this crazy plan was about love or just about legal strategy.
Tonight, everything would change.
The question was whether I was brave enough to handle whatever came next.
CHAPTER 3
Colby
Ispent the day at the Hendersons’ job site, installing custom kitchen cabinets and trying not to check my phone every five minutes. The oak panels required precise measurements and careful handling, but my mind kept drifting to Gianna’s face when she’d said she needed time to think. The hope that had flickered there, quickly smothered by caution.
By six o’clock, I’d finished the installation and cleaned up the workspace twice. My crew had already headed home, but I stayed behind, adjusting hinges that didn’t need adjusting and polishing hardware that already gleamed. Anything to avoid going home and waiting for an answer that might change everything.
My phone buzzed with a text from Kay Redman:
Luca’s helping with dinner. Pick him up whenever you’re ready.
I typed back my thanks and packed up my tools. The October air carried the scent of woodsmoke and dying leaves as I loaded my truck. Millbrook looked postcard perfect in the golden hour light, all painted Victorian houses and maple trees blazing orange and red. This was the life I wanted for my son. Small-town safety, neighbors who looked out for each other, a place where everyone knew his name.
Lyla had never understood the appeal. She’d complained constantly about the lack of shopping, restaurants, nightlife. She’d wanted to move to Portland or Boston, somewhere with more opportunities and fewer questions about our increasingly cold marriage. I’d refused, and she’d resented me for it right up until the day she left.
Kay’s house smelled like pot roast and fresh bread when I knocked on the front door. Through the window, I could see Luca at the kitchen table with her grandson Marcus, both boys bent over homework with identical expressions of concentration.
“Come in, come in,” Kay called, appearing with flour on her apron and a knowing smile. “Luca’s been an angel. Set the table without being asked and helped Marcus with his math.”
“Thanks for taking him on such short notice.”
“Nonsense.” She waved off my apology. “That boy is welcome here anytime. You look stressed, honey. Everything alright?”
Of course she’d noticed. In a town of three thousand people, it was impossible to hide when something was wrong. But I wasn’t ready to explain the situation to anyone yet.