Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kristen
The coffee sits untouched between us. Steam curls up from both cups, but neither of us reaches for them.
Mom's hands wrap around her mug like she needs something to hold onto. From the living room, I hear Lily giggling at whatever cartoon she's watching. The sound feels miles away.
"Kristen." Mom's voice cracks on my name. "I need to say something."
Here it comes. I've been waiting for this moment since we sat down. Through dinner, we talked about Lily's drawings and the weather and absolutely nothing that mattered. Now the real conversation looms between us like a wall I'm not sure I want to climb.
"I'm sorry." The words come out wet, thick with tears she's fighting. "I'm so sorry for telling Jack where you were. For everything."
I stare at the coffee. Say something. Anything.
But what comes out isn't forgiveness.
"Do you know what the worst part is?" My voice sounds strange. Hollow. "It's not that you loved Jack. It's not even that you believed him over me."
Mom's chin trembles. She looks older than I remember. When did that happen?
"The worst part," I continue, and my throat burns, "is that when Jack came into our lives, you acted like you were finally free."
"That's not—"
"Free from me, Mom." The words taste like poison. Like something I've held in my chest for years, rotting. "Like I was a problem you'd been stuck with. Not your daughter. A burden. And here was this charming man willing to take me off your hands."
The tears spill down her cheeks now. She doesn't wipe them away.
"I raised you alone." Her voice shakes. "I worked two jobs, three jobs sometimes. I was so tired, Kristen. So tired."
"I know." And I do. I remember the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she'd fall asleep at the kitchen table with bills spread around her. "I'm not saying you didn't sacrifice. I'm saying that when Jack showed up, you didn't just like him. You looked relieved."
She flinches like I've hit her.
"Like finally, someone else could deal with me.
Someone else could worry about whether I was okay.
" My hands shake around my own mug. "And then when things got bad—when I tried to tell you what he was really like—you didn't want to hear it.
Because if Jack was the villain, then you'd have to take me back.
You'd have to be responsible for me again. "
"That's not fair." But her voice is weak. Unconvincing.
"Maybe not." I meet her eyes. "But it's how I felt. Every time you defended him. Every time you told me to try harder, be better, give him another chance. It felt like you were choosing your freedom over my safety."
The silence stretches. From the living room, Lily laughs again. Such a pure sound. Untouched by any of this mess.
"I didn't know." Mom's voice is barely a whisper. "About the money. The loan. I swear I didn't know what he was doing."
"Would it have mattered?"
She doesn't answer. We both know what that means.
"I'm not trying to be cruel." I set my mug down because my hands won't stop shaking. "I just need you to understand what it felt like. To be your daughter and feel like an inconvenience. To finally escape a man who made me feel worthless, only to have my own mother keep pushing me back to him."
Mom's shoulders shake with silent sobs. Part of me wants to comfort her. Part of me wants to let her sit in this feeling for a while. To understand what it's like to be on the other side.
That's probably too hard on her, I think. She's still my mother.
But it's the truth. And I'm done pretending things are fine when they're not.
"I love you, Mom. But I need you to stop seeing Jack as the answer to prayers you never should have been praying. I'm not a problem to be solved. I'm your daughter."
She nods, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Mascara smears across her cheek.
"I know I've been hard on you," I admit. "These past few months especially. But I had to protect Lily. And honestly? I had to protect myself. Because no one else was going to."
"I should have been." Her voice breaks completely. "I should have protected you. I'm your mother."
Yeah. You should have.
I don't say it out loud. Some things don't need to be spoken.
"Mommy!" Lily's voice cuts through the heaviness. "Come see! The bunny is doing a dance!"
I stand, grateful for the interruption. Mom stays at the table, still crying quietly.
"We should go soon," I tell her. "But maybe... maybe we can try again. Slowly."
She looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "I'd like that."
I walk toward the living room, toward my daughter's laughter. Behind me, I hear my mother's quiet sobs.
I don't turn around.
Nico
I'm reviewing delivery schedules on my tablet when I hear them come through the back entrance.
Lily's voice reaches me first. "Mommy, can we have the ice cream now?"
"In a while, baby."
I look up as they round the corner. Lily spots me immediately and waves like I'm across a football field instead of ten feet away. "Hi, Nico!"
"Lily." I nod at her, then let my gaze slide to Kristen.
She's not looking at me. Her eyes are fixed somewhere around my left shoulder, her posture stiff. She's been doing this since we had sex the first time.
It's irritating as fuck.
"Good visit?" I ask, setting down my tablet.
Kristen finally meets my eyes, but only for a second. "Fine."
Lily tugs on her mother's hand. "Grandma cried."
"Lily." Kristen's voice is sharp.
"What? She did."
I file that information away.
"I'm going to get Lily settled," Kristen says, already moving toward the door. "We'll stay out of everyone's way."
"Why?"
She freezes. Lily looks between us with those big grey-blue eyes that miss nothing.
"Because..." Kristen's jaw works. "I just think it's better if we keep a low profile today."
"A low profile." I repeat the words flatly. "In the house where you live."
"Nico." My name comes out strained. She glances down at Lily, then back at me with a look that says not now.
I push off from the counter. "Lily, there's chocolate milk in the fridge. Pink cup, second shelf."
Lily's face lights up. She looks at her mother for permission.
"Go ahead," Kristen says softly.
The kid bolts for the refrigerator, and I close the distance between Kristen and me before she can retreat. I stop close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at me.
"Talk."
"There's nothing to—"
"You've been avoiding me every time we're out of the room. Talk."
Her cheeks flush. "I feel..." She exhales hard through her nose. "Ashamed, okay? Everyone in this house knows what we're doing. What I'm doing. With you."
"And?"
"And—" She gestures helplessly. "I'm the housekeeper, Nico. The help. And I'm sleeping with..." She drops her voice to barely a whisper. "With Aria's son. Thank God she's in Sicily because I would literally die if she found out. I'd just... spontaneously combust from embarrassment."
I stare at her. "You're embarrassed about me."
"No! I'm embarrassed about me. About what everyone must think of me."
"No one thinks anything."
"Vittoria definitely thinks something. Nora gave me this look at breakfast—"
"Nora gives everyone looks. It's her thing."
"Nico." Kristen presses her fingers to her temples. "I just need some space to process everything. The visit with my mom was... a lot. And then there's the custody thing, and Jack, and—"
"Mommy!" Lily's voice cuts through. "I found the pink cup!"
Kristen's shoulders drop. She moves toward her daughter, effectively ending our conversation.
Fine. She wants space? I'll give her exactly as much as she actually needs, which is none.
Vittoria appears in the kitchen doorway like she's been waiting for her cue. Probably has been—my sister has an uncanny ability to show up at strategic moments.
"There you are!" Vittoria beams at Kristen and Lily. "Perfect timing. There's something you need to see."
Kristen tenses. "What?"
"It's a surprise." Vittoria's grin is suspiciously wide. "But first, we need to go through the small garden. The one off the kitchen."
Lily perks up, chocolate milk mustache and all. "A surprise?"
"The best kind." Vittoria winks at me.
Kristen's eyes narrow. She turns to me, a silent question in her expression.
I keep my face completely blank. Shrug one shoulder.
"You don't know anything about this?" she asks.
"No idea."
I'm a decent liar. Comes with the territory. But Kristen's gaze lingers on me a beat too long, like she's trying to read the truth in my face.
"Come on, come on!" Lily abandons her chocolate milk and grabs Vittoria's hand. "I wanna see!"
Vittoria leads the way through the kitchen's back door, out into the small enclosed garden Giulia uses for herbs. It's warm out here, sunlight filtering through the lattice overhead, and there's a new addition in the corner—a wooden hutch I had delivered this morning while Kristen was out.
Lily sees it first.
Her scream could shatter glass. "BUNNIES!"
She breaks away from Vittoria and sprints across the garden, dropping to her knees in front of the hutch. Inside, two lop-eared rabbits—one grey, one white with brown patches—huddle together in the corner.
"Mommy! Mommy, there's two of them!" Lily's voice cracks with joy. "Look! Look!"
Kristen walks forward slowly, like she's in a dream. She stops next to her daughter and stares at the rabbits.
I hang back by the door. Watching.
Lily presses her face against the wire mesh. "They're so fluffy. They're so fluffy, Mommy!"
"I see them, baby."
"Are they mine? Vittoria, are they mine?"
Vittoria crouches beside her. "They're yours, piccola. All yours."
Lily makes a sound that's somewhere between a shriek and a sob. Her whole body vibrates with happiness. She turns and looks directly at me.
"Thank you, Nico!"
I didn't tell her it was me. Neither did Vittoria.
Kids see everything they say.
I see that.
"You're welcome." The words come out rougher than I intended.
Kristen stands slowly and turns to face me. Her eyes are wet. She opens her mouth, closes it. Opens it again.
"You—"
"The grey one's a boy, the white one's a girl," I say before she can get emotional on me. "They're siblings, so they get along. The breeder said they need timothy hay and fresh vegetables daily. I had staff stock everything in the utility closet."
Kristen stares at me.
Lily has opened the hutch—Vittoria must have shown her how—and is carefully, reverently, lifting the grey rabbit into her arms. Her face is pure, uncomplicated bliss.
"This one's gonna be Sir Floppington the Fourth," she announces. "And this one..." She peers at the white rabbit still in the hutch. "Princess Bun-Bun."
Vittoria laughs. "Perfect names."
I can't stop the smile that pulls at my mouth. It's small, barely there, but it's real.
Lily holds the rabbit against her chest like it's made of gold.
Kristen moves toward me. Stops close and her hand reaches up and presses flat against my chest, right over my heart.
"Why?" she whispers.
Because your daughter deserves something soft in a world that's been nothing but hard.
Because I wanted to see that look on her face.
Because somewhere along the way, these two broke through every wall I built, and I don't know how to get them out.
"She needed real ones," I say instead. "The stuffed ones were getting old."
Kristen's laugh is wet. She rises on her toes and presses her lips to my cheek—quick, barely there, but it burns through me.
"Thank you," she breathes against my skin.
Then she's gone, crossing to her daughter, crouching down to meet Sir Floppington the Fourth.
Vittoria catches my eye from across the garden. Her smile is knowing. Smug.
I glare at her.
She just grins wider and mouths: You're so gone.
I don't argue.
She's not wrong.