Chapter Twenty Four

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

LEIGH

Today was a fairytale.

I never imagined I’d be saying that about anything surrounding Christmas, let alone Luca Donati, but here we are, making magic. I’ll never forget the smile on Zach’s face while decorating gingerbread cookies, or his giggles as we tobogganed down the small hill behind the guesthouse. Forever ingrained in my mind will be the taste of hot chocolate on Luca’s lips and the sting of pain as he shoved me up against the pantry wall and made me come with just his fingers. Then his mouth on the kitchen island. And his cock as he bent me over the sofa.

There’s never been a more productive nap time.

It’s also the first time I’ve had a Christmas Eve where I didn’t spend the majority of the day forcing a smile and pretending to be happy. Today, not a single one of my smiles has been involuntary.

Of course, all this sentimental bullshit could one hundred percent be the sex and tequila taking over and adding enchantment to my memories, where there is none.

But I don’t think it is.

I think Telluride is magic. Or maybe it’s Bucket List Christmas.

Okay, it's tequila.

In my defense, Holt pours them strong and, since they got back to the house, Bash has made sure none of us are without a drink in our hands. It’s a terrible combination, but I don’t hate it.

The twinkling lights of the tree catch my eye, and I trace the glittering tinsel-filled branches down to the piles of presents below that we just finished wrapping. They’re all a mess—too much tape, uneven corners, and a few that don’t have enough paper. So the guys added an extra misshapen piece to make it work.

Guy logic.

But still, they’re perfect. And watching them play Santa, giggling with glee over how they think Zach will react, was worth it.

Zach is absolutely going to lose his mind tomorrow morning.

There’s just one final touch needed.

I lug the bag of flour, spray bottle, and cookie sheet I found in the pantry over to the fireplace and carefully set it down on the hearth before bending over to untie my shoes.

“As much as I love this view, do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

I look over my shoulder at where Luca stands, leaning against the doorframe of the living room.

It’s not even fair how sexy this man is. Sure, he looks good in a suit, but those cashmere sweaters over a button down and the way he makes them look casual just turns my insides to mush.

My eyes fall to his feet, and I grin. “Come over here. I need your shoes.”

“My shoes?”

“Yeah.” I turn back and pour the flour out on the cookie sheet. “Actually, do you think Bash’s feet are bigger than yours? Where are the guys, anyway?”

They disappeared while I was gathering the things I needed for this endeavor.

“They’re in the hot tub.” Luca slides up behind me, resting his hips against mine before leaning over and nipping my shoulder. “And if you’re about to make a comment about foot size and dick size, you should really think twice.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Donati,” I tease. “But now that you mention it, is there a correlation?”

“Absolutely. Which is why I can say with confidence, my feet are much larger than Bash’s.”

“Just give me your shoes.” I roll my eyes.

He chuckles as he slips off his boots that probably cost more than my rent, and hands them to me.

“So what exactly are you doing?” He crosses his arms over his chest, watching me spray down the bottom of his shoe with water and push it into the mound of flour I formed on the baking sheet.

“I’m making Santa’s footprints.”

“What?”

I glance up and find he’s wearing an expression that says he seriously has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Santa’s footprints.” Still no recognition, so I explain. “I’m going to use your boots to make it look like Santa walked across here, leaving snow from his boots as he put the presents under the tree and filled our stockings.”

Luca’s brows raise and my jaw drops, realizing just how far the deprivation goes when it comes to Donati parent involvement. “Your parents never did something like this?”

“That would be a no.”

My smile falls a bit. “Mine did every year. Even after I knew the truth about Santa, they still made a show of it just to keep a little bit of magic.”

Luca’s eyes soften. “And now you get to share that with Zach.”

“I—”

The sound of Luca’s phone ringing cuts me off—a blaring horn that in any other situation I’d think signaled someone was stealing something.

He pulls it out of his pocket and mumbles an apology as he fumbles to silence it.

No image pops up on the Facetime call, but I immediately recognize the area code.

Shady Grove.

“Is it your family?” I whisper, praying it’s just someone calling about his car’s extended warranty.

Luca winces. “My mother.”

My gut twists and not because of the person on the other end of the phone. It’s the look of longing in Luca’s eyes and the pain on his face. It’s the look of a man who wishes things could’ve been different.

Which is why I find myself reassuring him. “You don’t have to ignore it because of me.”

“I’m not,” he says, his eyes never leaving the phone screen. “She’s been calling every day for the last month.”

His admission floors me.

“If you need to answer it, I can go.”I set down his boots and grab my own phone from the hearth.

“No,” he blurts out. “Stay.”

I hesitate, everything in me telling me to run and that this a bad idea.

Again, maybe it’s the lingering tequila, but I find myself nodding slowly. “If that's what you need.”

He looks up at me,and nods once as he swipes the screen to answer.

“Oh, Luca,” Isabella Donati croons in a sickly-sweet tone. “I am so happy you finally answered.”

I glance from off camera at the visage of his mother. She’s every bit the delicate socialite I remember. Not a single hair is out of place, and she’s got more makeup on her Botox filled face than a clown at the circus.

“Hello, Mother.” His voice is soft yet, clipped and tension radiates through his shoulders. “Merry Christmas.”

“Well, it would be if all my children were under one roof.”

God, she’s insufferable.

Luca gives her an irritated scowl. “No ‘hi how are you?’ Or ‘what’s new with you in the last ten years?’ Just going to jump right in then with the insults.”

Isabella scoffs, examining her immaculately manicured nails. “You know I’ve never been one to sugarcoat, dear.”

“Unless it suits you.”

“Oh, come now, Luca.” She pouts. “Enough is enough. It’s time you and Enzo come home. We have so much to celebrate. Your sister is pregnant, and that baby deserves to know their uncles.”

Gianna’s pregnant? The news shouldn’t make my heart clench, but to think once upon a time I’d be the one she’d call to tell leaves me teetering between nostalgic and uneasy.

“Does Enzo know all this?” Luca deadpans.

“You’ve always been the more reasonable twin.” It’s a nonanswer if I’ve ever heard one.

“No, I’ve always been the one you could manipulate, but I haven’t forgotten everything you said when you cut us off.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Luca.”

My strong, resilient twin shakes his head. “This was a mistake. I’d love it if we could all fix things, Mom, but you need to fix things with Enzo first, on your own, before you get to meet my family.”

“Family?” This work instantly piques her interest. “You mean those boys you run around with instead of coming home to us?”

My body freezes, my mind racing with all the ways he could spin this while simultaneously praying that he’s not going to do what I think he is.

We don’t even know for sure he’s Zach’s father. Nor have we had any sort of conversation about what this is—if it’s anything at all. I mean, I know it’s something, but it doesn’t have a title. It’s definitely not, “Oh yeah, I’d love to tell your mom,” let alone see her again after all these years. Because news flash, I don’t want that. Ever. And not just me. There’s not a chance in hell Zach is going anywhere near that witch of a woman.

“No, Mom,” Luca doubles down. “I mean my family.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Isabella stills, her calculating blue eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you talking about, Luca?”

“You remember Leighton Bennet?”

Nope. This isn’t happening. I’m not that girl anymore. I changed my name and made a life for myself. If he thinks I’m going to allow him to use Zach and me in some ass backwards way to stick it to her, he’s got another thing coming.

I will him to look at me. Glance in my direction. Anything so I can shut this shit down. But his eyes remain locked on his mother.

“The little thief who stole from me?”

My blood pressure skyrockets. That bitch. I have never hated that nickname more than I do when it slithers off her tongue.

“You know she didn’t,” Luca growls. “She and her son joined us this year for Christmas.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re marrying her?”

“Not yet.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Slow down, buddy. Anger and panic swirl like a category five hurricane in my chest. This is all moving faster than I’m comfortable with. You might be my son’s father, but as far as we go, we’ve fucked a few times. And while I really like you, I’m not ready to hear wedding bells.

“Good,” she seethes. “Because if you think my son is going to marry some trollop and take on her bastard son you are gravely mistaken.”

That does it. Luca snaps.

“Do you even hear yourself? For the love of God, the last ten years I have done nothing but hope someday you’d see reason. That you’d realize your views on what we should be is wrong and classist. We aren’t the fucking Kennedy’s. No one cares if I played baseball or that Enzo decided not to continue in the family business. What matters are the moments we share. And all the ones we’ve missed because you’re too petty to see reason.” Luca’s chest heaves. “And he’s not a bastard.”

My world stops spinning.

“You got the results?” My whispered question is out before I can stop myself.

“Is she there?” Isabella shrieks.

“No,” Luca says, refusing to look my way despite my desperation for any indication he knows who the father of my son is.

“I’m sorry you feel like our way of life is wrong,” Isabella continues, her chin held high. “We raised you with higher standards. If you don’t want to rise to meet them, then maybe this call was a mistake.”

“Maybe it was.” Luca sighs and there’s no mistaking the defeat and sadness that haunts his voice. “Goodbye, Mom.”

She doesn’t bother responding, ending the call before Luca has the chance to.

“That was—I—” My spinning mind can’t latch onto a single thought as I try to put into words what just happened. When it finally does, it’s the one thing that’s most important to me. “Did you get the results?”

“Yes,” he whispers, still unwilling to look at me.

“Zach is yours?”

Luca’s phone drops from his hand, hitting the floor with a thud. “I have no idea.”

“What do you mean?”

He finally looks up at me, his big blue eyes glistening, and I can see his silent request to leave it written across his face. But there’s no way in hell I can do that. Not after that phone call. Not after all the things he put out into the universe.

“I haven’t looked at the results.”

“But you just told your mom?—”

“I know,” he snaps and runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands like they are a lifeline. “But it doesn’t matter if he’s mine. I want you guys to be my family.”

“Don’t you think I should have gotten a say in that?” I throw my hands up before letting them fall in a desperate move for him to understand. “Luca, we just started whatever this is. You can’t just give up a chance to fix things with your family without even knowing. Not only that, you’re out here making insinuations that aren’t true, and for what? To stick it to your mom? That’s not how you get back in her good graces?”

“Is that what you think I was doing?” He takes a step toward me, and I immediately step back. “This is what I want.”

“Do you hear how crazy that is?”

He falters, stopping mid stride. “Are you telling me you don't?”

“No, I—” Shit, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. “Four days together isn’t enough. Especially if Zach isn’t yours.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” His words drip with an almost deranged tone as he lifts his hands and gestures around the room. “This is all I need. Enzo, Bash, and Holt have been my family for the last ten years. You and Zach stumbling into our little tradition is the best thing that’s happened to me. My family has been a clusterfuck for longer than I can remember. And as much as my mother thinks she’s going to fix things overnight, there’s not a chance in hell of that happening. I might not have known I wanted this before this week, but now I can’t imagine my life without you. “

Tears threaten to fall, and I swallow hard to keep them in place. “It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

His eyes search mine, and I watch as they harden as he realizes he’s not going to find what he’s looking for.

“You don’t want this.”

It’s not a question, and I’m left with the sinking feeling that I've just shattered every bridge we built.

I inhale a steadying breath and cross my arms over my chest, grasping my biceps for strength. “Luca. I barely just got over the fact that you are not the same guy I remember. How the hell am I supposed to make informed decisions about our future when I didn’t even know it was an option last week…” My voice trails off, and I look him dead in the eye. “How can I decide if we don’t even know if Zach is yours?”

“Does it matter?”

Does it?

I know what my heart wants me to say, but that’s nothing more than the stuff of fairytales. So naturally, I push it down in a tiny little box and slap duct tape on that bitch.

The crux of it is I have to protect my son. I have to protect myself.

“Yes,” I exhale, shattering my own heart as I do. “Because if he’s not yours, you still have the option to fix things with your family.”

He opens his mouth to counter, but I lift my hand to stop him.

“I know you say you don’t want that, but if you could see your own face when you talk to your mother, you’d see what I do. Love and hope that someday you’ll all find your way back to each other.”

“Leigh—” he breathes.

“If Zach isn’t yours, you don’t have to keep playing house with us. You can walk away. I have to do what’s best for Zach, and if you aren’t his father, then I have to approach this differently. God, I’ve been so stupid. What if you decide in a month you don’t want us? In a year? At that point, not only will you break my heart, you’ll break his too. I can’t do that to him.”

“So what?” he spits, venom lacing his tone. “If Zach isn’t mine, you’re just going to live in a bubble and never let anyone love you?”

He loves me.

Is that what this is? It’s been four days.

I push the absurd thought from the forefront to examine later. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Don’t do this, Leigh,” he pleads.

“Open the results.”

“No.”

Desperation takes hold and I issue a plea of my own. “I need to know if he’s yours.”

So I can plan.

Wrap my head around our future.

“No.”

A frustrated huff escapes me. “You stubborn—Luca. Please.”

“Fine.” His glare rips through me before he turns on his heel and exits the room. He’s back in seconds, a large, folded envelope in his hand.“You can open them. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me what I already know.”

And with that final sentiment, he tosses the results on the floor and storms from the room.