A flicker of pain crosses Valentina's face. "Her father showed up."
My chest tightens. "Luca?"
She nods.
"So why can't we go?" I ask.
Valentina's face hardens. "You know why."
"It's time he got over his issues. It's all bull shit anyway," I declare.
"He's not going to," Valentina quietly asserts.
"So Zara uninvited us?" I seethe.
"Pretty sure you can still go."
I narrow my eyes.
She argues, "It's not Zara's fault. She shouldn't have to worry about managing the situation. She should focus on her babies."
"That doesn't mean we cancel," I counter.
"I'm not going over there and making the situation worse."
"You wouldn't."
"I would," she insists.
"It'll get sorted out," I maintain.
"It won't." She turns, and for a heartbeat, the old, painful wound splits open. It's the one she normally hides. Yet today, she can't seem to.
"Valentina—"
"It's fine," she adds sharply, as if the word can force the truth back into its box. "We're not going."
"It isn't fine. And you know it."
A flicker of frustration crosses her expression. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
I step in front of her, blocking her path to retreat. "That's not how this works."
Her jaw tightens. "You can't force me to go."
"I'm not trying to force anything. I'm trying to understand why you're letting someone else make decisions for you again," I point out.
Her eyes flash with anger. "This isn't someone else making decisions. It's me refusing to walk into a house where I'll watch Zara tense, the twins sense it, and Luca get so angry he might have a heart attack."
I remind her, "You spent years surviving people who wanted to own you. Don't hand your power to someone who didn't bother to stay."
Her eyes dart away. "I'm not."
I reach for my keys.
She notices. "Where are you going?"
"Out."
