Page 66 of Before Broken Vows

The sudden rise of butterflies in my stomach makes me nervous, just like the night I scribbled down my number on the paper. I never thought he'd call me, but he did. Who would have thought a spilled drink could change the trajectory of your life?

The GPS announces our exit in Italian, and Theo takes it. We're close now, less than ten minutes away. I try to keep my breathing steady, but panic rises in my chest. Theo turns onto a narrow, tree-lined road that winds uphill. The villa should be at the top.

I can't help but wonder if he'll ever forgive me for it once he meets Xander.

Theo pulls into the driveway. The SUV with his men parks on the street, keeping a safe distance.

"We're here," I say unnecessarily.

The car stops, engine silent, but Theo doesn't move. His hands remain locked on the wheel, the afternoon Italian sun reflecting off the dashboard.

"Go in first," he says, staring straight ahead. "I'll wait here."

I blink, caught off guard. After practically simmering with impatience the entire trip, now he wants to wait?

"Why?" I ask, searching his face. "You've been desperate to see him since you found out."

"I don't want to scare him," Theo says, his voice low. "I want you to set the tone. Let him feel safe. Prep him before, you know, I come in."

Something cracks in his composure. Not the kind of fear that comes with bullets or business rivals, but the raw vulnerability of a man about to meet his son for the first time.

"He doesn't know me," Theo continues, finally looking at me. "I'm a stranger to him. You need to go first."

I reach across the console before I can stop myself, my fingers brushing his forearm. He doesn't pull away.

There's so much I want to tell him right now. That he's not a stranger to his son. That I spoke about him a lot and often, but I can't bring myself to say any of that because I don't think it'll help him. Instead, all I manage to say is, "Okay, I'll go first."

He nods once. "Tell me when. I'll be waiting."

I step out of the car, my legs unsteady beneath me. The Italian villa sits nestled among cypress trees, soaking up theMediterranean sun. Marlena and I chose well—private, secure, beautiful.

My heart pounds harder with each step up the stone path. Behind me, I feel Theo's watchful eyes.

I knock lightly on the heavy wooden door, and it opens almost immediately. Marlena stands there, her gray hair up in a bun, eyes wide with relief.

"Thank God," she says, pulling me into a fierce hug. She's the grandmother I never had.

In truth, Marlena has been my only true friend since I left Greece. The only person who knew the truth about Xander, about Theo, about everything. The only one I trusted with my son when I couldn't be there.

She pulls back, scanning my face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, and then pause. "No, that's a lie. I'm terrified."

Her eyes drift past me to the car where Theo sits waiting. "That's him? Xander's father?"

I nod.

Marlena smiles at me and nods toward the adjoining room. "He's in there. Drawing dinosaurs," she says and rubs my arm. "He's asked about you every day. He'll be happy to see you."

The door to the playroom is ajar, sunlight streaming through the windows. I pause in the doorway, my throat tight with emotion.

Xander sits cross-legged on the floor, hunched over a coloring book. His dark hair falls across his forehead as he concentrates. He's humming to himself, some made-up tune that's half "Baby Shark" and half something else entirely.

My baby. Safe. Whole. Perfect.

I stand watching him. Noticing the way his small fingers grip the crayon too tightly, the dinosaur pajama shirt he refuses to change out of even though it's the middle of the day.

I must make some sound, because suddenly he looks up—his eyes, Theo's blue eyes, widening.