She watched recognition spread across their faces—Ally’s sharp breath, Evan’s eyebrows rising, Emily’s hand tightening on Grace.
“Castellano,” Will repeated slowly. “As in...”
“The fashion empire. Yes.” Christina’s arms tightened around Violet. “He’s the heir. I didn’t know that when I met him. We were at a club in Miami, and we agreed—no names, no stories. Just one night to celebrate my last adventure in Miami before we moved. I didn’t find out who he was until months later, when I saw his face in a magazine, in an ad with Colton.”
“And you never told him.” Tara’s voice held no judgment. “About Violet.”
“How could I?” The words came out raw. “I looked him up. The tabloids, the scandals, the women—he goes through supermodels like other people go through coffee. And his family is worth billions. If they found out about Violet, they’d have lawyers on me within hours. They’d paint me as a gold-digger, try to take her?—”
“Hey.” Colton cut through her spiral. “Christina. Breathe.”
She realized she’d been talking faster and faster, chest tight, Violet fussing against her. She forced herself to slow down, to feel the weight of her daughter.
“He recognized me,” she said quieter. “On the lake path. The day after the opening. He saw Violet, did the math, and now he knows. And he won’t stop. He keeps showing up, keeps leaving notes?—”
“What do the notes say?” Ally asked.
“That he wants to talk. That he’s not going anywhere. That he just wants—” Her voice broke. “That he just wants a chance to understand.”
Silence filled the room. Outside, leaves rustled against the window, gold and red in the fading light. Violet had stopped fussing, eyes drifting closed.
“Do you want to talk to him?” Ryan’s voice was quieter than usual.
Christina thought about it. Really thought, past the fear and the scenarios and the months of hiding.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m scared of what happens if I do. But I can’t avoid him forever. Not in a town this small.”
“Whatever you decide,” Tara said firmly, “you’re not doing it alone.”
“She’s right.” Evan leaned forward. “And Christina—I’m not defending the guy. But if he had wanted to cause problems, he could have already. He has resources. Lawyers instead of handwritten notes.”
“That’s actually fair,” Will said slowly. “Doesn’t mean you have to trust him. But it means something that he’s choosing this approach.”
Christina looked down at Violet’s peaceful face, at the dark lashes resting against cheeks that held a warmth her own fair skin had never possessed.
“I’m not ready,” she said. “Not yet. But maybe soon.”
“When you’re ready,” Ally said, “we’ll be right here. And if he turns out to be a jerk, Colton knows people.”
“I do not know people.” He rolled his eyes. “He’s my friend.” He looked at Christina. “Yes, he’s a playboy, but underneath it all, he’s a good guy. Maybe hear him out?”
The tension cracked, just slightly. Christina felt something loosen in her chest—not the fear, but the isolation. The weight of carrying this alone.
“Thank you,” she said. “For not being angry that I kept this secret.”
“Honey.” Her mother crossed to her, kneeling beside the rocking chair. “You were protecting your daughter. That’s never something to apologize for.”
The timer went off, and Will moved toward the kitchen while Ryan pulled out bowls, and Emily handed Grace to Evan so she could help.
Life continuing. Family closing ranks. The smell of food and the sound of people she loved filling her space.
Christina looked out at the mountains blazing in the last light. Tomorrow she’d figure out what came next.
“Mom?” she said as Tara stood. “Can you stay tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course. As long as you need.”
Violet unlatched and yawned, her tiny mouth forming a perfect O. Christina lifted her to her shoulder, patting her back, and let herself be pulled into the warmth of her family around her.
