Page 95 of Tinsel in Telluride

“Family?” This work instantly piques her interest. “You mean those boys you run around with instead of coming home to us?”

My body freezes, my mind racing with all the ways he could spin this while simultaneously praying that he’s not going to do what I think he is.

We don’t even know for sure he’s Zach’s father. Nor have we had any sort of conversation about what this is—if it’s anything at all. I mean, I know it’s something, but it doesn’t have a title. It’s definitely not, “Oh yeah, I’d love to tell your mom,” let alone see her again after all these years. Because news flash, I don’t want that. Ever. And not just me. There’s not a chance in hell Zach is going anywhere near that witch of a woman.

“No, Mom,” Luca doubles down. “I meanmyfamily.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Isabella stills, her calculating blue eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you talking about, Luca?”

“You remember Leighton Bennet?”

Nope. This isn’t happening. I’m not that girl anymore. I changed my name and made a life for myself. If he thinks I’m going to allow him to use Zach and me in some ass backwards way to stick it to her, he’s got another thing coming.

I will him to look at me. Glance in my direction. Anything so I can shut this shit down. But his eyes remain locked on his mother.

“The little thief who stole from me?”

My blood pressure skyrockets. That bitch. I have never hated that nickname more than I do when it slithers off her tongue.

“You know she didn’t,” Luca growls. “She and her son joined us this year for Christmas.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re marrying her?”

“Not yet.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Slow down, buddy. Anger and panic swirl like a category five hurricane in my chest. This is all moving faster than I’m comfortable with. You might be my son’s father, but as far as we go, we’ve fucked a few times. And while I really like you, I’m not ready to hear wedding bells.

“Good,” she seethes. “Because if you think my son is going to marry some trollop and take on her bastard son you are gravely mistaken.”

That does it. Luca snaps.

“Do you even hear yourself? For the love of God, the last ten years I have done nothing but hope someday you’d see reason. That you’d realize your views on what we should be is wrong and classist. We aren’t the fucking Kennedy’s. No one cares if I played baseball or that Enzo decided not to continue in the family business. What matters are the moments we share. And all the ones we’ve missed because you’re too petty to see reason.” Luca’s chest heaves. “And he’s not a bastard.”

My world stops spinning.

“You got the results?” My whispered question is out before I can stop myself.

“Is she there?” Isabella shrieks.

“No,” Luca says, refusing to look my way despite my desperation for any indication he knows who the father of my son is.

“I’m sorry you feel like our way of life is wrong,” Isabella continues, her chin held high. “We raised you with higher standards. If you don’t want to rise to meet them, then maybe this call was a mistake.”

“Maybe it was.” Luca sighs and there’s no mistaking the defeat and sadness that haunts his voice. “Goodbye, Mom.”

She doesn’t bother responding, ending the call before Luca has the chance to.

“That was—I—” My spinning mind can’t latch onto a single thought as I try to put into words what just happened. When it finally does, it’s the one thing that’s most important to me. “Did you get the results?”

“Yes,” he whispers, still unwilling to look at me.

“Zach is yours?”

Luca’s phone drops from his hand, hitting the floor with a thud. “I have no idea.”

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