“Christina says you’re staying at Colton’s place,” Ryan said eventually.
“Word really does travel fast here.”
“It’s not gossip. It’s just—people care. She’s my sister.” Ryan kicked a stone off the path. “Colton’s cool. He taught me to throw a curveball last summer.”
“He mentioned you have a good arm.”
“He’s being nice. I’m better at video games.” Ryan’s voice held no self-pity, just honest assessment. “But I like the baseball stuff. It’s different from screens, you know?”
Marco thought about his own life—how much of it had been lived through screens, through cameras, through the filtered lens of public perception.
“Real is good,” he said.
“Yeah.” Ryan was quiet for a moment. “Violet’s lucky, you know. Having you around. I mean, if you actually stick around.”
“I’m going to.”
“That’s what they all say.” The words weren’t bitter, just matter-of-fact. Ryan had his own history with fathers who disappeared.
“I know I have to prove it,” Marco said. “Not just say it.”
Ryan shrugged, but there was something in his expression that might have been approval. “That’s usually how it works.”
The video call connected on the third ring.
Marco sat in the chair in Colton’s guest room, the house quiet around him. Through the window, he could see the mountains in the distance, their peaks catching the last of the evening light. His mother’s face filled his phone screen, her expression shifting from concern to hope.
“Marco? You look tired. But different. Good different.”
“I feel different, Mama.” He adjusted the phone, making sure the camera captured his face clearly. “I spent the afternoon at the cottage. Holding Violet.”
“Tell me everything.” Isabella leaned closer to the screen, her eyes bright. “Does she have our eyes? Does she look like you did as a baby?”
“She’s starting to. She looks like Sophia did as a baby. The eyes are changing—green coming through the blue.” Marco’s voice softened. “She fell asleep on my chest today. Just... trusted me. Even though she barely knows me.”
“Babies know.” His mother’s voice was thick with emotion. “They know who loves them.”
“I’m staying at Colton’s place for now. Giving Christina space, but staying close.” He paused. “It’s not what I expected, Mama. Any of it. I thought I’d hate it here—this tiny town, no nightlife, no—” He laughed. “No anything, really. But it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like...”
“Like what?”
“Like somewhere I could belong.” The admission surprised him even as he said it. “I helped Will with trim work at the inn today. Manual labor. And I walked a dog with a fifteen-year-old kid, and I had dinner at a farmhouse table with people who don’t care about the Castellano name at all.”
Isabella was crying now, tears tracking silently down her face. But she was smiling too.
“This is what I’ve wanted for you,” she said. “Not the parties, not the campaigns. This. Something real.”
“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to find it.”
“You found it. That’s what matters.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Now—when can I come? I need to hold my granddaughter.”
“Soon. Let me get things settled first. Christina’s still?—”
“Adjusting. I understand.” Isabella nodded firmly. “But Marco? Don’t wait too long. Life is short, and that baby won’t stay small forever.”
“I know, Mama.”
“And Marco?” Her voice softened. “I’m proud of you. Your father will come around eventually, but I’m proud of you now. For choosing this.”
