Page 150 of Ruthless Claim

“He’s Finn’s father,” I say, against her shoulder, and saying it aloud still doesn’t make it real. “The test was overwhelmingly positive.”

Her fingers pause for a moment before she continues her ministrations, still saying nothing.

“I was so sure.” I’m crying again. But this time, I don’t mind the tears because I’m somewhere safe. “I was so sure, Mamma. I was certain she was lying and I was wrong and now—” I stop, hiccupping. “Now it’ll never be just Cillian and me. It’ll always include them too.”

My mother’s hand twirls around a lock of my hair. “I know,” she says, quietly.

“Tell me what to do,” I plead, clutching onto her, desperate for someone to make a decision for me..

She keeps stroking my hair. “You know I can’t do that, amore.”

“Tell me it’s too much,” I beg, wanting someone to give me their permission to do what’s hard. “Tell me it’s okay to walk away.” Fuck the consequences. I don’t care if Connor is pissed.

She’s quiet again. Her hand stills in my hair.

“Your father and I,” she starts, carefully, “had our complications. In the early years.” I look up at her in surprise. As far as I knew, my parents were a love match. “Not like this exactly. But our world isn’t simple and there were things I had to decide. Things I had to decide about who he was and whether I could accept all of who he was.” She pauses, a faraway look in her eye. “I don’t regret any of them.”

“This isn’t just about who he is,” I point out. “He lied to me for a month. He⁠—”

“I know what he did,” Mamma continues patiently. “And that’s part of who he is too, Valentina. The part that shuts down when he’s scared, that carries things alone, that calls it protection.” She looks at me steadily. “You knew that about him before this.”

I look at my hands.

“The question,” Mamma says, “isn’t whether he has a son. He does. That doesn’t change. The question is whether you love him enough to work through it. Whether you can forgive the lying—ah, I’m not saying today.” She holds up a finger to stop me from interrupting her. “Not soon, but eventually. Whether you can accept that his past has arrived in the middle of your present in the worst possible way and choose him anyway.” She pauses. “And whether you can be—whether you could be a stepmother to this child. Be angry with Cillian. Be angry with the mother. But don’t be angry at an innocent child. He didn’t ask to be involved in this.”

“I’m not angry at Finn,” I tell my mother, a little hurt she thinks I could be. “But I am angry with Cillian. And I don’t know how to answer that.”

“No one is expecting you to right now.” She strokes my hair again. “That’s why you need time.” She pauses and tilts my chin up so I can look into her dark brown eyes. “But not too much time,” she says gravely. “In our world, Valentina, gaps don’t stay empty.”

My stomach bottoms out. I know what she’s insinuating, and I don’t even want to think about what Claire will do with a gap.

My mother holds me for a long time after that.

At some point she gets up and makes me a snack that I don't eat and tea that I drink. I sit on the sofa and I stare at nothing, disassociating.

I’m still on the sofa at five thirty when the front door opens.

Emma barrels through first, looking like a woman on a mission. Behind her follows a wary Leo, clutching the car seat in one hand and the diaper bag over another shoulder.

He looks uncomfortable, to say the least, and he’s the first one to look away when we make eye contact.

How did they know I was here…?

Oh wait, I know. Guess there’s a rat in this family.

I glare at my mother, who is standing in the doorway serenely, looking just oh so surprised that Leo, Emma, and Seraphina are here.

What a little actress.

She called in reinforcements.

“Mamma,” I say flatly.

She raises one elegant eyebrow. “What?”

“You called them.” I point an accusing finger at her.

“I missed my granddaughter,” she says, with complete innocence. “Can’t an old woman desire to see her grandchild? I barely see her.”