Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

LEIGH

My lies are catching up with me.

Well, one in particular.

In my defense, I’ve had a damn good reason for not telling the truth about my son's parentage. But now my worlds are colliding and there’s nothing I can do to stop the inevitable catastrophe that lies ahead.

“Leigh?” Willow waves her hand in front of my face, the obnoxious bells sewn into the sleeves of her festive sweater jingling with every move.

“Hmm?” I look up from the popcorn I somehow got roped into stringing for a Christmas party I absolutely don’t want to attend. If it wasn’t for the incessant desire to give my son a normal childhood, I would be avoiding it like I do every year. But alas, here I am.

My best friend, who also happens to be my boss, narrows her scrutinizing gaze and repeats the question I conveniently ignored seconds ago.“I asked about the Renegade Hearts expansions. Is everything in order to be finished on schedule?”

Fuck.

It’s not.

But what am I supposed to say? Hey, I’ve got twenty-nine of the thirty teams all onboarded and ready to start building their individual chapters, but remember that one-night stand almost two years ago that left me knocked up? Yeah? Well, I kinda lied when I said I knew who the baby daddy was. The truth is, it’s one of two men and now that lie has come back to haunt me like the Ghost of Christmas Past, only this time he’s a gorgeous Italian in a Tom Ford suit who will absolutely kill me when he finds out.

Absolutely not.

I twirl the needle between my fingers, before nonchalantly stabbing another piece of popcorn and do what I do best when backed into a corner—deflect. “Define in order.”

Willow rolls her eyes, following it up with a slow shake of her head as she focuses on the separating tinsel. “Let me guess, the Monarch Chapter?”

Willow always jokes that I’m the perceptive one in our little friend trio, while Indie is the charismatic one, and she is the wise one. But it’s clear she hasn’t missed the subtle clues over the last nine months that I’m less than thrilled to be working with the Monarchs—specifically their owner.

Eight months ago, I was ecstatic when the MLB Commissioner announced the league would become an official partner with Willow’s philanthropy, Renegade Hearts. The partnership includes expanding Hearts’’ Chapters to each team in the league and has opened so many incredible avenues to help kids, who have lost one or both parents, cope and move forward.

As someone who lost her parents as a teenager, I love the mission behind what we do. As Willow’s partner and CFO, though, I’m selfishly hating that I’ve become the go-to person for establishing these chapters.

Chest full of shame, I sigh, press my lips together and nod, confirming Willow’s astute observation.

Willow cocks a brow and, like any good best friend, digs a little deeper. “Does this have anything to do with a six-foot-four, charming ex-baseball-player-turned-owner that has decided he’s going to head up Monarch Hearts himself instead of handing it off to his team?”

See what I mean? Perceptive.

“Maybe,” I answer too quickly, my voice going high at the end.

“Leighton Bennett.”

Fuck.

She full named me.

The only time Willow York full names you is when she’s absolutely done with your bullshit.

Not only that, but she used my parent’s last name. The name I changed in order to distance myself from everything that happened in Shady Grove.

“Fine.” I drop the popcorn in my hand to the table and look away from her prying gaze.“Yes, it has to do with him, but I promise to have everything up and running with his chapter by the end of the year deadline.”

“It’s December twentieth,” Willow deadpans, and I wince.

“I know.”

“Most people don’t work the last week of the year.”

“I know.”

“And we need everything to the commissioner’s office by the end of the?—”

“I know, Wills,” I snap, making the mistake of looking up.

The hurt I see flash in Willow’s eyes guts me.

This deal for Renegade Hearts is really important to her. It’s important to me. I hate that my own bullshit is the reason it’s not done yet.

“I’ll get it finished.”

“Will you?” she asks, not as my best friend but as my boss. “Because if you need me to assign this one team to someone else, I can.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reassure her. “This is my mess, and I’m going to figure it out.”

Or die trying.

I promised myself when I found out I was pregnant with Zach that I wasn’t going to let my pregnancy or the circumstances get in the way of my future. And I have done just that. I’ve made sure Renegade Hearts continues to grow while Willow has taken a leave of absence to be a present owner for the Renegades baseball team. Our summer camp is thriving. And Zach is growing into the sweetest little boy.

I’ve done all that.

Me.

I will figure this out too.

Her tense brows soften, and she offers me a warm smile. “Are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you?”

No.

Yes.

I should. I really should. Willow has been there for me through every up and down in my life for the better part of fifteen years. But if I tell her the truth, then it makes it real, and I’ve rather enjoyed the space of denial I’ve created for myself.

See? Deflection at its finest.

“What’s going on between who?” Indiana Lewis, the third wheel to our friendship tricycle, slides into the seat next to me and pops a piece of popcorn in her mouth. Picking up a strip of tinsel, she ties it to the end of her thick black braid, making it a fashion statement in a way only Indie can.

God, I hate that stuff. I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to throw loose strands of glitter on trees, but it just gets everywhere and makes a mess.

Indie glances between Willow and me,her pointed gaze landing on Willow. “Also, your boyfriend’s best friend is sneaking Zachary candy to introduce him to the pretty volunteers.”

All three of us swivel our heads and watch as my almost two-year-old son teeters up to a volunteer and proceeds to point to the Renegades Ace pitcher, and says, “Cawson.”

The pretty brunette volunteer, who looks like she’s dressed for a night out at a club and not to set up a kid’s Christmas party, falls to one knee and coos at Zach before looking up at Carson with hearts in her eyes. “Is he your son?”

I roll my eyes and yell across the banquet hall at Willow’s boyfriend. “Bishop, get your teammate in line. And Carson, stop using my son as your pickup line.”

Carson lifts my sweet boy in his arms and twirls him in a circle. Zach’s laughs echo, making my heart melt. It’s a stark reminder that he needs this. I can’t keep him locked away in order to protect him. He needs people in his life that he can count on. And these people are good people. People I trust. They aren’t going to leave us.

Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll finally believe it.

Carson laughs and sets my son down, giving our table a shrug.“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

He makes a show of handing Zach his reward, a piece of chocolate, and ruffles his too long blonde hair. “Your mom’s no fun, you know that?”

“I used to be fun,” I mutter, mostly to myself. Now my thoughts revolve around remembering to make an appointment to get my son’s hair cut and worrying if he pooped today or not.

Indie chuckles beside me. “Yeah, then you let your vagina become a bat-infested cave instead of the cave of wonders.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” I counter, picking up my needle and stabbing another piece of popcorn.

But it has.

Almost two years and nine months, to be exact.

“No, no, we’re not getting sidetracked by Leigh’s lack of sex life.” Willow’s gaze narrows in my direction. “Back to business. Why is it we’re not allowed to talk about whatever it is that happened between you and Luca?”

“Oh, yes, do tell, because I’ve got a bet going with Bishop, and I can’t wait to rub it in his face when he’s wrong.” Indie leans forward and pulls the bowl of popcorn in front of her. She rests her elbows on the table and brings a piece to her mouth like she is just waiting for the show to begin.

Willow scoffs. “You’ve got bets going with my boyfriend?”

“So many bets.” Indie wiggles her eyebrows, taunting Willow, who she knows can’t stand not knowing anything and everything.“But that’s not the point.”

“We’ll put a pin in that,” Willow concedes and shifts her gaze back to me. “The point is, what’s going on with you and Luca? And will this affect Renegade Hearts?”

“Seriously, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to work with that tree of a man and then maybe climb him and break your self-imposed celibacy.”

“Weeelll,” I draw out the word and drop my shoulders in defeat, “that’s sort of the problem. I’ve already climbed that tree.”

“Wait, you slept with Luca?” Willow gasps at the same time Indie throws up her hands, sending tinsel flying everywhere and shouts, “I knew it! Bishop owes me fifty bucks.”

Heat fills my cheeks as I pick the tinsel from my hair. “That’s not the problem, though.”

“Go on,” Indie singsongs.

“Luca may or may not be The Scum of the Upper Peninsula.”

“What!” they both exclaim.

I drag my hand down my face. There isn’t a single part of me that wants to relive this.

Luca’s sister Gianna was my first friend when we moved to Shady Grove. She was my best friend. We did everything together. Until the day Luca accused me of stealing a family heirloom in front of the entire town. I still don’t know how the locket got in my bag, but I know it was him. He all but told me it was. From that point on, no one wanted their children to be associated with the delinquent of Shady Grove.

That included Gianna.

When I showed up at our boarding school in the fall, Willow and Indie were there to pick up the pieces. I told them the story, but never his name in fear that they, or their society families, would side with him and the Donati name, and I’d lose them too.

They got me through the school year, even coming up with the nickname for Luca to make me laugh. But every summer until I left for college, I’d go home and was reminded just how unwanted I was in our little town.

And it was all thanks to him.

I glance around the room to make sure there isn’t anyone listening in on our conversation. Most of the volunteers have finished setting up. A few members of the team that agreed to help with the party are all circled up with my son in the corner, trying to teach him to play catch with a crumpled up piece of wrapping paper.

Willow is the first to recover from her shock and rapid-fires a line of questions. “Luca is the SCUP? How did we not know this? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Is that how he knew your name back at spring training? Wait, when did you sleep with him?”

My gut roils with anxiety, but I answer them in succession. “Yes. I didn’t want you to know. He definitely recognized me, and almost two years and nine months ago.”

And then I wait.

And wait.

It takes a moment, but Willow pieces it together first.

“No,” she gasps, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.

“What did I miss?” Indie asks, following Willow’s gaze to my son. “Oh, fuck.”

Now she gets it.

“Luca might be Zach’s father,” I admit softly, my voice shaky.

It’s the first time I’ve ever said the words out loud. They cut deeper than I expected, but also bring a sense of relief that I’m not the only keeper of this secret anymore.

“So, The Scum of the Upper Peninsula is also the Scum of the Upper East Side?” Indie clarifies and I wince, wishing it wasn’t true.

I’m also realizing we need to diversify the way we nickname shitty men.

“Not exactly,” I explain, shame washing over me. “He might be The Scum of the Upper East side, but he also might not be.”

They’re both silent, eyes zeroed on me, waiting for further explanation.

“Remember that hospice fundraiser you didn’t want to go to and sent me instead?” I say to Willow.

She nods. “It's not that I didn’t want to go. I was sick.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” We both know it’s a bald-faced lie. Before Bishop came along, my bestie hated public speaking and schmoozing donors. It didn’t matter that her name did all the convincing. She frequently pawned events off on me.

“Either way,” I continue, “that night Luca was at the fundraiser.”

“And what you fell on his dick?”

I roll my eyes. “So eloquent, Inds, but essentially yes.”

What really happened was I didn’t say no when he asked me to dance, because after a few too many glasses of champagne, I had every intention of telling him all the reasons he really was the Scum of the Upper Peninsula. Which I did. Then he responded with how incredibly sexy that was. The next thing I knew, we were in a closet at the end of the hallway, fucking up against a vending machine. Skittles falling out as we both came brings a whole new meaning to taste the rainbow.

“Does he know?”Willow murmurs, trying and failing to keep the hint of judgment from her voice.

I wince internally. She doesn’t mean anything malicious by it. She’s come to care for Luca after he helped her and Bishop out this past spring. If it wasn’t for him, the two of them likely wouldn’t be together. Which blows my mind. The Luca Donati I know doesn’t do anything without an agenda.

Still, I’m the asshole here, no doubt.

“No. I didn’t tell him. I don’t know for sure if Zach is his, or if he belongs to the guy I hooked up with from the club the weekend before.”

Though it would be par for the course if Luca were the father.

My entire life has been a testament of taking lemons and making lemonade. Why should this be any different?

When everyone in my hometown thought I was a delinquent—I found my friends at boarding school. When my parents died in a tragic accident—I helped start a nonprofit for children who’ve lost their parents. I got knocked up and couldn’t marry the guy my grandparents wanted in order to get back into the good graces of society—I’m thriving being a single mom doing it all on my own.

In short, I wouldn’t be surprised if Luca Donati turns out to be the father of my son. I’m just not sure how the hell I’m supposed to make lemonade with that.

Willow furrows her brow, and I already know what my glass-half-full friend is going to say.

“I’m still having a hard time reconciling Luca is the same guy who accused you of stealing.”

It’s the same argument I’ve been making in the confines of my mind since seeing him at spring training. Because she’s right. He doesn’t seem like he’s the same guy.

But tigers can’t shed their stripes. And I’ve been burned too many times by the Donati family to believe he hasn’t got ulterior motives.

“So, what now?” Indie asks. “Are you going to tell him?”

I shrug and pick at the skin at the corner of my nail in a futile attempt to avoid their stares. “Now I figure out how to work with him and then we move on.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him.” Willow presses her lips together, and I get the feeling it’s the only thing stopping her from saying more.

“Of course you do,” I scoff, at the same time Indie rasps a high pitched, “Really?”

Willow shrugs sheepishly, twirling a piece of her golden blonde hair around her finger. “I’m just saying. I think Luca will surprise you. Plus, we see so many kids come through Renegade Hearts, wishing they had both of their parents. You have the opportunity to give that to Zach.”

A lighthearted laugh escapes me, but it’s nothing but a cover for the hurt at my failure to give Zach the one thing he deserves.

A proper family.

When I found out I was pregnant, I’d never even considered Luca as part of Zach’s life. It would be too messy. Too complicated. And that’s assuming he’s his father. But since running into him eight months ago, I can’t say the notion hasn’t crossed my mind. Usually, it’s when I’m sleep deprived and overwhelmed.Then I get some coffee in my system, and I remember I hate him, firmly squashing the wayward thought.

“I don’t think he’s lacking father figures,”Indie disagrees, gesturing to where Bishop and his teammates are still entertaining Zach.

“I’m not sure that’s a valid argument.” Willow chuckles. “I’ve seen the questionable decisions those men make on a daily basis. Again, all I’m saying is maybe use this time working with him to get to know him.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Then you can decide if telling him is what’s best for Zach.”

“I’ll think about it.” It’s not concrete, but it’s the best answer I can give while my heart is trying to reconcile that I have no choice but to face this. “But are you sure there isn’t any way I can have until after the first of the year to get this done?”

The holidays are already hard. The last thing I need is Luca to make them worse.

Willow winces, catching my apprehension. “I wish. But it’s my ass if it’s not on the commissioner’s desk by the thirty-first. So, no.”

Indie throws her arm around me and rests her head on my shoulder. Looking up at me, she bats her eyelashes sweetly. “Do you want us to hold your hand while you call him? At least you can’t fall on his dick from across the country.”

God, I love the way these women can be angry for me, challenge me, fight for me, then make me laugh when all I want to do is cry in the span of the same five minutes.

“No,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “I’ll do it tonight after we get home. It’ll still be early in Los Angeles after I get Zach to bed.”

“Fine.” Indie slumps back into her chair like I’ve just ruined her day. “But the offer still stands.”

“You just want to be a fly on the wall.”

She winks. “You know I live for the drama.”

Well, there will definitely be no shortage of that.