He hadn’t told them that Celeste was also gay, they’d agreed on that. She was going to call her parents first and tell them first. Then they would circle back to Braden’s and tell them the truth.
Yet, that hadn’t happened.
The way his mother's voice had cracked. His father's cold silence before the line went dead.
She'd had her own phone ready, rehearsed words sitting on her tongue like stones.Mom, Dad, there's something I need to tell you. I'm gay. I've always been gay. The marriage was—
But after watching Braden's world fracture, after seeing the pain in his eyes when his father hung up without a word, she'd quietly set it down.
I can'tI just can't.
Braden's family was tight-knit. Southern. The sort of family who hosted large scale dinners half the town was invited to and made a habit of going to church and giving to the poor. And they'd still reacted like he'd announced he was joining a cult.
Her family? Her traditional, Catholic, Italian-American family made up of people who emigrated from a small village where everyone knew everyone's business? Her sweet, doting grandmother who'd cut off her own cousin Marco for being gay and still refused to speak his name twenty-five years later?
Their rejection would destroy her.
They’d begin to look at her with disappointment. Her father would stop calling her hispiccola avvocatessa, his little lawyer. Her mother would stop bragging about her to the church ladies. Her grandmother…
Celeste couldn't even think about her grandmother's reaction without her chest constricting.
“He'll come around.”
“Maybe.” Braden shrugged, but she caught the tension in his shoulders. “Jackson keeps telling me I can't control other people's reactions, only my own choices.”
“Jackson sounds very wise.”
“I have my moments.” Jackson's dimple appeared. “Usually right after I've said something incredibly stupid and need to recover.”
The laugh escaped before Celeste could stop it, surprising all three of them. It felt good, like stretching a muscle that had been cramped too long. She couldn't remember the last time she'd properly laughed. Not the polite chuckle she gave clients, or the amused sound she made when the twins said something cute. Real laughter.
“Listen, you remember our New Orleans trip?”
“The one that's cancelled because you're building your new life and can't possibly take a week and a half off?” She raised an eyebrow.
They'd booked it almost a year ago, back when they were still married, still playing house. A road trip to the New Orleansarts and culture festival, a break from the routine of work and parenting. Celeste had been looking forward to it more than she wanted to admit. As much as she loved being in Cheyenne Valley, Illinois, the idea of being elsewhere for a change seemed appealing.
“It's not cancelled. You're still going.”
“Alone?”
The thought of a lengthy road trip by herself should have sounded peaceful. Instead, it felt hollow. Sad. Like eating at a restaurant alone while couples and families laughed at nearby tables.
“Not alone. I arranged for someone to meet you at the rental place.”
“Who?”
“A companion. Someone I trust.” Braden's smile turned infuriatingly cryptic. “You'll see.”
“There’s no point in—”
He drew his eyebrows together. “You need this, Celeste. When's the last time you did something purely for yourself? Not for the twins, not for the firm, not because it was expected. Just because you wanted to?”
The answer formed immediately:Never.But she kept it locked behind her teeth.
She'd done what was expected her entire life. Perfect grades because that was expected. Law school because being a lawyer meant something in their family, meant Celeste had achieved what her grandmother had only dreamed of. Marriagebecause good Italian girls got married, had children, built families.
“The twins will be with your parents. I'll be around if they need anything. You have literally no excuse.”
