Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Olivia
When Juliet and Ezio's car vanished around the corner, the last bit of sunset faded with it.
I stood at the door for a long time before closing it.
Leo was still up, slumped against the sofa arm, legs dangling and kicking, eyes buzzing with leftover excitement from the day.
"Mom, does Juliet live far away?"
"A little." I headed to the kitchen to clear the remaining dishes.
"Does she have to get up super early for school?
" He trailed after me, standing close, tilting his head up to keep asking.
"Does she have a dog? She said she wants a golden retriever, but her dad won't let her.
She calls that guy Dad, right? They look so alike!
And both have green eyes, but you and me have green eyes too, I—"
"Leo."
"What?"
"Brush your teeth first."
He let out an "oh" and dashed to the bathroom. I heard the faucet turn on, heard him humming some tune inside, way off-key but full of energy.
I stacked the bowls in the sink, fingers mindlessly gripping the sponge.
Today at the table, when they sat together, the resemblance hit me so hard I could barely breathe.
I squeezed the sponge hard, water dripping through my fingers.
Don't think about it.
"Mom, I'm done!"
I took a deep breath, shut off the faucet, and went to check his teeth.
He opened wide, grinning so big his gums showed. I rubbed my fingertip over his back molars. "Missed a spot. Go brush again."
"Aw—"
"Go on."
He slouched back in.
I tucked him into bed, pulled up the covers, sat on the edge, and told half a story before he dozed off, lips curved in a smug little smile even in sleep. I sat there watching him, hand lightly on the blanket, feeling the faint rise and fall of his warmth.
Parkour, dodging through bushes, chasing dandelions, rolling on the grass with Juliet laughing—he got himself filthy today, but he had a blast.
I brushed the hair from his forehead. He stirred but didn't wake, breathing steady.
His brow bone. That curve from inner to outer edge—I'd stared at it for five years, and every time it felt like something slicing across my heart.
I eased up quietly, shut the door, and headed back to the living room.
Streetlights glowed outside. Footsteps echoed in the apartment hallway now and then, then faded. I sank onto the sofa in the dimness, no lights on, replaying the whole day from start to finish.
The way Ezio looked at Leo.
Something in that look: suspicion, probing, or...
He asked Leo's age.
Five.
I'd thrown out the ex-husband excuse to brush him off, but he wasn't dumb. One quick calculation, and he'd know.
My fingers clenched the throw pillow.
What now?
Leave?
Grab Leo and go tonight, back to France, back to that small town, pick up our life. But what about Juliet?
And—
How long could I run?
He'd seen Leo. If he suspected, he'd dig. He'd pull every string, check me, check Leo, every detail of the last five years.
No escaping that.
My palms slicked with sweat.
I grabbed my phone, scrolled to Ella's number, and dialed.
It rang twice before she picked up.
"What's up?" Her voice had that lazy pre-bed haze.
"Ella," my voice shook, "he saw Leo."
Silence on the other end.
"Fuck," she sucked in a breath, "what happened?"
"He came by today," I said, "with Juliet to see me. Leo was playing on the lawn, they—they ran into each other."
"And then?"
"Then," I shut my eyes, "he asked Leo's age, asked about his birthday."
"You told him?"
"Age yes, birthday no."
"So he..."
"He probably figured it out," I said, "Ella, he's not stupid."
More silence.
"What're you gonna do?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said, "I-I want to take Leo and leave."
"Now?"
"Yeah."
"Olivia," Ella sighed, "the more you run, the more it looks like you're admitting something."
I went quiet.
"If Leo's really not his kid," she said, "why bolt? Ezio's not sure yet. Just suspicious. Run now, and you confirm it."
I stayed silent.
"Chill out," Ella said, "wait for him to come to you. If he's suspicious, he will. Decide then."
"What if he tries to take Leo?"
"He won't," Ella said, "not yet. He'll confirm first, test the waters. You've got time."
I drew in a deep breath.
Ella was right. I couldn't freak out like this.
Maybe I was overthinking it all.
"Okay," I said, "got it."
"Don't panic," Ella said, "I'm here."
I hung up, leaned back on the sofa, and closed my eyes. From the bedroom, Leo's steady breaths seeped through the door crack, long and even.
The next afternoon, my phone rang. Ezio's name lit up the screen. I stared at it, heart skipping. Took a deep breath and answered.
"Hello."
"Next week work for you?" His voice was low, laced with cautious probing.
"For what?"
"Dinner at the house. Juliet wants you and Leo over."
Juliet. Not him.
"Uh, well..."
"Juliet said she wants to play with Leo," I hadn't answered yet, and he jumped in like he was explaining, "she misses him bad."
I wanted to say no. I should say no. But Leo bounded over from the living room, draped across my lap, tilting his head up. "Mom, is that Juliet? She inviting me over?"
"Yeah."
"I wanna go!" He jumped up, eyes sparkling like stars. "Mom, I wanna go! She said she'd show me her bunny last time!"
I glanced at Leo, then at the glowing name on the screen.
He hung on my leg, head up, those green eyes full of light.
He didn't do this often.
Back in France, spotting a toy he liked, he'd stare through the window forever, then tug my hand and say, "Mom, let's go."
He rarely asked for stuff. So when he did, I couldn't say no.
"Okay," I said.
His eyes lit up, whole body springing off the floor, spinning in the living room, nearly clipping the coffee table. "Juliet! I'm going to play with Juliet!" He ran back, hugging my leg. "Mom, can I bring Giraffe? Juliet said she'd show me her rabbit!"
"Sure."
"Can I wear my blue shirt?"
"Sure."
He whooped and bolted to his room. I heard him rummaging in the closet, humming that French nursery rhyme, tune all over the place but happy as hell.
I slumped on the sofa, watching his back vanish down the hall.
"Saturday, four p.m.," his voice loosened up on the line, "I'll pick you up."
"Okay."
I hung up and stared at the screen a bit. Leo yelled from his room. "Mom, does Giraffe need a bow tie?" I got up and went to help him find one.
Saturday afternoon, I stood in front of the mirror longer than planned.
That dress in the closet—bought five years ago. Worn maybe twice, shoved in a suitcase bottom in France, hauled thousands of miles, hung in a corner since New York.
I slipped it on.
Zipped it up and stood there, looking.
Champagne color, high waist, hem two fingers below the knee, no frills. When I bought it, the clerk said it suited me. I just thought the price was right, didn't care.
But now, in the mirror, I got what she meant.
Five years had marked my face. Not wrinkles—something deeper. Shadows from too many late-night cries, the edge from scraping by alone with a kid in a foreign land.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, grabbed my bag, and headed to the door.
Leo waited there, in his blue shirt, hair slicked down with water but a cowlick sticking up in back, no matter what. He clutched Giraffe, looking up at me.
"Mom, you look so pretty."
"Thanks, baby." I knelt and smoothed down the cowlick. "You're handsome too."
"Will Juliet like my Giraffe?"
"She will."
He nodded, satisfied, yanked open the door, and ran out.
Downstairs, a black car idled. Not the SUV from before—longer, body gleaming in the sun. Driver stood by the door in a black suit, white gloves, spotted us, bowed slightly, and opened the back.
Leo's steps slowed, he looked up at me, eyes a bit nervous.
"It's okay," I took his hand, "hop in."
He sucked in a breath, climbed up, settled in the back, hugging Giraffe to his chest, buckling up good. I slid in after, door shut, car quiet for a beat, leather scent mixed with faint woodsy cologne—familiar, his car's smell.
Then the other door opened.
Ezio got in. Deep blue shirt today, no tie, top button undone. Hair neater than usual, silver strands at his temples catching the window light. He settled, bringing a whiff of tobacco, arm brushing mine—that patch of skin heated instantly. I shifted away, pretending to fix Leo's seatbelt.
"Hello, sir." Leo leaned forward, peering past me, all formal.
"Hey, Leo, call me Ezio." He turned, looking at him, lips quirking up. "Ready?"
"Ready!" Leo held up Giraffe. "Juliet said she'd show me her rabbit!"
"She's been waiting." He said it to Leo, but his eyes met mine in the rearview.
I looked away quickly.
Car pulled out. Leo pressed to the window, watching streets blur by, asking "Are we there yet?" nonstop. Ezio sat beside me, arm on the console, close to my hand. I didn't move. Neither did he. But I felt his gaze, heavy on my cheek, burning.
"You look beautiful today." His voice low, just for me.
My fingers tightened on my skirt. "Thanks."
"But it's just an accessory, Olivia. You're more radiant than the world's priciest gem."
His voice deep and magnetic, my ears heated.
I forced myself not to look, turned to the window, faking interest in the scenery. His profile reflected in the glass—brow arch, nose line, faint scar on his chin. He watched the road, but his lips quirked.
Leo started singing a French kids' song beside me. Tune wrecked, but he belted it seriously, enunciating every word. Ezio glanced at him.
"What's he singing?"
"A French nursery rhyme," I said, "about a little duck looking for its mom."
"Cute."
The ambiguous tone made my heart skip, annoying me. I decided to ignore him the rest of the way.
Streets turned to tree shade, shade to iron gates. Gates opened, car rolled in. The house loomed—gray-white stone, deep bronze doors, just like I remembered. But different. New flowers in the beds, white and thick, swaying lightly in the breeze. Lawn trimmed neat, sun hitting it green and shiny.