Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“There,” I said, carefully attaching the rings to Saturn. “What do you think?”
“Perfect!” Luca beamed, then threw his paint-stained arms around my waist. “Thanks, Mom. This is going to be the best project in the whole class.”
The hug caught me off guard, as it always did. The easy affection, the complete trust, the way he said “Mom” like it was the most natural thing in the world. My chest tightened with an emotion too big to name.
“I hope so, sweetheart.”
The power tools went quiet in the garage, and a moment later Colby appeared in the kitchen doorway. Sawdust clung to his dark hair, and his gray eyes looked soft as he took in the scene: paint-covered table, our heads bent together over the project, the comfortable domesticity of it all.
“How’s the solar system coming along?” he asked.
“Mom helped me make Saturn’s rings,” Luca announced proudly. “And she knows all about Jupiter’s red spot.”
“Does she now?” Colby’s gaze met mine across the table, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “Your mom is pretty smart.”
The word sent a familiar flutter through my stomach. When Colby called me Luca’s mom, it felt different than when Luca said it. More weighted. More dangerous.
“We’re almost done,” I said, focusing on cleaning paint from my hands. “Just need to let everything dry and then we can assemble it tomorrow.”
“Speaking of tomorrow,” Colby said, leaning against the doorframe, “I got a call from Luca’s teacher. Parent-teacher conferences are next week. She wants to meet with both of us.”
Both of us. Like we were a real parenting team, making decisions together about Luca’s education and future. The thought should have terrified me. This level of involvement, this depth of responsibility. Instead, it made me feel needed in a way I’d never experienced before.
“Of course,” I said. “Whatever works with your schedule.”
“Thursday at four. I can pick you up from the shop.”
“It’s a date.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and heat flooded my cheeks. “I mean—”
“I know what you meant,” Colby said quietly, but his eyes lingered on my face longer than necessary.
Luca, oblivious to the tension crackling between his parents, had already moved on to more pressing concerns. “Can we have mac and cheese for dinner? The kind with the breadcrumbs on top?”
“Sure thing, buddy,” Colby said, finally breaking eye contact with me. “Why don’t you go wash your hands while Mom and I clean up this mess?”
After Luca scampered upstairs, Colby and I worked together to clear the table in comfortable silence. Our hands brushed as we reached for the same paint jar, and the brief contact sent electricity up my arm. I pulled back quickly, but not before I saw his sharp intake of breath.
“Gianna.” His voice was rougher than usual.
“Yeah?”
“About what happened at the school the other night . . .”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What about it?”
“The way we were together. How natural it felt.” He set down the paint jar and turned to face me fully. “It didn’t feel like acting.”
“No,” I whispered. “It didn’t.”
“That’s dangerous territory for us.”
I knew he was right. The whole point of this arrangement was to maintain enough distance to walk away when it was over. But standing there in his kitchen, surrounded by the evidence of the life we’d built together, distance felt impossible.
“I know,” I said.
“So what do we do about it?”
Before I could answer, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen, and his expression immediately darkened.
“Lyla,” he said, showing me the caller ID.
My stomach clenched. “Answer it.”
He accepted the call, putting it on speaker so I could hear. “Hello, Lyla.”
“Colby.” Her voice was crisp, businesslike. “I need to talk to you about this weekend.”
“What about it?”
“I won’t be able to make Luca’s soccer game. Something came up at work.”
Something came up. The same excuse she’d used for the past month. I saw Colby’s jaw tighten, but his voice remained steady.
“Luca will be disappointed.”
“I’m sure Gianna can cheer extra loud to make up for it,” Lyla said, and I caught the edge in her tone. “You two seem to have the happy family routine down perfectly.”
“We’re not putting on a routine,” Colby said carefully. “We’re just living our lives.”
“How convenient that your life suddenly includes a ready-made mother figure right when you need one.”
The accusation hung in the air like poison. I wanted to defend us, to tell her that my feelings for Luca were real regardless of circumstances. But anything I said would only make things worse.
“Is there something specific you need, Lyla?” Colby asked.
“Just calling to let you know about Saturday. Give Luca my love.”
The line went dead, leaving us standing in the sudden silence of the kitchen. I could see the tension in Colby’s shoulders, the way his hands had clenched into fists at his sides.