Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Lyla.” I didn’t move my arm from around Gianna’s waist. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“I’ve been here for a while. Admiring Luca’s work.” Her gaze shifted to Gianna, and I felt my wife stiffen slightly. “You must be the new Mrs. Marshall. I’m Lyla, Luca’s mother.”
“Gianna,” my wife replied evenly. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise. Though I have to say, this all seems rather sudden. Colby never mentioned he was seeing anyone seriously when we spoke last month.”
The barb hit its mark, but Gianna didn’t flinch. “Sometimes the best things happen when you’re not looking for them.”
“How romantic.” Lyla’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “And how convenient, timing-wise.”
“Mom!” Luca appeared at Lyla’s side, his face bright with excitement. “Did you see my painting? It’s the one with my house and my family.”
Lyla’s expression softened as she looked down at her son. Whatever her faults as a wife, she did love Luca in her own way. “I did see it, baby. It’s very good.”
“That’s Dad and Mom and me,” he continued, pointing toward his artwork displayed on the wall. “We’re all happy together.”
“I can see that.” Lyla’s voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the flash of something in her eyes. Pain? Jealousy? It was gone too quickly to identify. “Tell me about school. Are you being good for your father?”
While Luca chattered to his mother about his classes and friends, I felt Gianna relax slightly against my side. But the tension in the air was thick enough to cut, and I knew this was just the beginning. Lyla was studying us, looking for cracks in our facade.
“Well,” Lyla said after a few minutes, “I should probably get going. I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She knelt down to hug Luca. “Be good, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
“Are you coming to my soccer game on Saturday?” Luca asked hopefully.
“I’ll try, sweetheart. Depends on work.”
The same excuse she’d used for the past three games. I bit back the comment that wanted to escape and focused on keeping my expression neutral.
After she left, Gianna sagged against me like a marionette with cut strings. “That was intense.”
“She was testing us,” I said quietly. “Looking for evidence that something’s not right.”
“Did we convince her?”
I thought about the way Lyla had watched us, the careful questions she’d asked, the tightness around her eyes when Luca had called Gianna “Mom.” “I’m not sure. But we didn’t give her anything obvious to work with.”
The rest of the evening passed without incident. We admired more artwork, chatted with Luca’s teacher about his progress, and made plans for upcoming school events. By the time we got back to the truck, I was exhausted from maintaining the performance.
“Ice cream?” I suggested as we buckled our seatbelts. “To celebrate surviving our first public outing?” I mumbled the last part for only Gianna to hear.
“Yes!” Luca cheered from the backseat.
Gianna smiled. A real smile this time. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”
The local ice cream shop was busy despite the cool weather, filled with families who’d had the same idea after the school event. We found a booth in the corner and ordered our usual flavors: chocolate chip for Luca, mint chocolate chip for Gianna, and plain vanilla for me.
“Dad’s boring,” Luca informed Gianna solemnly. “He always gets vanilla.”
“Hey now,” I protested. “Vanilla is a classic. It goes with everything.”
“It’s safe,” Gianna teased, licking her spoon. “Predictable.”
“I’m not predictable.”
“You had cornflakes for breakfast this morning. Same as every morning for the past week.”
Luca giggled. “And you always put two sugars in your coffee.”
“And you read the sports section of the newspaper first, every single time,” Gianna added.
“Okay, okay. Maybe I’m a little predictable.” I couldn’t help but smile at their teasing. This felt normal, natural. Like a real family enjoying a simple evening out.
“I like that you’re the same every day,” Luca said seriously, swinging his legs from the booth. “It makes me feel safe.”
The innocent comment hit me harder than I expected. This little boy, who’d already experienced too much change in his short life, found comfort in my routines. In knowing what to expect from the adults around him.
“Dad?” Luca’s voice pulled me from my brooding. “Can we go to the park tomorrow? Mom said she’d teach me how to tell different flowers apart.”
“If the weather’s nice,” I agreed.
“And Mom are you coming to my soccer game on Saturday?”
“Of course I’ll be there,” Gianna said before I could respond. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. You make the best noise with that horn thing.”
“It’s called an air horn, and yes, I do make excellent noise with it.”
The ride home was quiet, Luca drowsy in his booster seat and Gianna staring out the passenger window at the darkened streets. I wondered what she was thinking, whether the evening had been as emotionally draining for her as it had been for me.