“She was at the dock. I couldn’t—” He broke off, rubbing a hand over his face.
“She told me everything. About Miami, about not knowing who I was, about finding out from that magazine spread we did, the ad for the sunglasses.”
“Yeah.” Colton let out a breath. “She told all of us too. The whole family was there—Tara, Will, Ally, Evan, Emily, Ryan. She told them you’re Violet’s father.”
Marco sat down heavily on the steps. The wooden boards were cold through his jeans, the night air was sharp with the first hint of frost.
“How did they take it?”
Colton handed him the beer and went inside, returning a moment later with another. He sat down beside Marco, their shoulders almost touching.
“Mixed. Tara looked like someone had pulled the rug out from under her. Ryan asked what a playboy was. Ally—” He shook his head. “Ally’s protective. They all are.”
“They should be.”
“I tried to tell them you’re not the guy from the tabloids. That there’s more to you than the headlines.” Colton took a long pull of his beer. “I don’t know if they believed me.”
Marco thought about what Christina had said on the dock—all I knew was what I read. The scandals. The women. The careful image his family’s PR team had cultivated for years.
“She never tried to find me.” He said it slowly, the reality still settling into his bones. “She found out who I was, and she never reached out. She’d rather raise Violet alone than risk exposing her to my world.”
“Can you blame her?”
The question wasn’t accusatory. Just honest.
“No.” Marco stared out at the dark shapes of the mountains. “That’s the thing. I can’t blame her at all. If I’d read those articles about someone else, I’d have done the same thing.”
Silence settled between them. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called. The music inside had shifted to something slower, and Marco could hear laughter—Ally’s, maybe, or one of the others.
“What are you going to do?” Colton asked.
“She invited me to come by tomorrow. To meet everyone properly.” Marco picked at the label on his beer bottle, the paper damp and peeling. “I don’t know how to be a father. I don’t know if I’m capable of being what they need.”
“You think any of us know what we’re doing?” Colton’s laugh was short. “I walked away from Ally because I was too scared to figure out how to make it work. Spent months in New York pretending I hadn’t left the only thing that mattered behind.” He took another drink. “You don’t get a manual, Marco. You just show up and try not to screw it up.”
The words settled into Marco’s chest, somewhere near the cracked-open feeling that hadn’t gone away since he’d seen Violet’s eyes.
“What did you tell them? About me?”
Colton was quiet for a moment. “I told them that underneath all the playboy crap, you’re a good guy. That you’ve been dreaming about that woman from Miami for almost a year. That I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked when you described her.”
Marco’s throat tightened.
“I also told them that if you hurt Christina or that baby, I’d personally make sure you regretted it.” Colton’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Because whatever we are, they’re my family now too. Or they will be if Ally gives me another chance.”
“Fair enough.”
They sat in silence, watching the stars wheel overhead. The cold was seeping through Marco’s jacket, but he didn’t move to go inside.
“For what it’s worth?” Colton stood, stretching. “I’m glad it’s you. Could’ve been a lot worse.”
“How?”
Colton’s smile was crooked. “Could’ve been someone who didn’t care. Someone who’d have walked away the second it got complicated.” He shrugged. “You’re still here. That’s something.”
He headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the frame.
“You should call your sister. Before the family grapevine reaches Milan.”
