“Are you going to marry Brooke?”
Luca felt his back stiffen. “Who told you that?”
“She’s your girlfriend, right?”
“And who told you that?” He was going to have to talk to his family.
Franny glanced up at him. “I saw you kissing.”
“Oh.”
“And Regina at school said her mama was talking with Rosa and they all said Brooke might be my mama soon.”
“Well, Regina, her mama, and Rosa haven’t talked to me.”
“I don’t understand.”
Well, damn. “I kissed Brooke because we like each other.”
“Regina says kissing is where babies come from. Is Brooke going to have a baby?”
“Oh God.” Where were his mother and sister when he needed them? Luca was not prepared for this conversation. “It takes more than kissing for Brooke to have a baby.” Of course, they’d done that, too.
Franny sat up in bed, tucked her legs under her, and waited patiently for an explanation.
“Which I’ll tell you about when you’re a little older.” Because he had no idea what to tell her now.
“I am older.”
“Soon, tesorina. Soon.”
Franny lowered her eyes in a pout that often got her her way.
Not this time.
“If you made Brooke my mama, do you think she’d leave?”
Luca narrowed his eyes. “Brooke had to leave town for work. She’ll be back.”
Franny shook her head. “I mean forever. Like my mama did?”
He gathered his daughter in his arms and held her close. “I won’t make anyone your mama who will leave us, tesorina.”
“Promise?”
Luca made a promise he knew he couldn’t one hundred percent control. “I promise.”
He tucked his little treasure in for the night and left her room. In his kitchen, he poured a glass of wine and glanced at his phone.
A text had come in from Brooke.
On the ground but stuck on the tarmac due to lightning. I’ll call when I’m off the plane.
He immediately texted back. Be safe, cara. I need your help.
Three little dots said she was texting back.
Luca sipped his wine and waited.
With what?
Franny asked where babies came from.
An open mouth emoji followed. You poor man. What did you tell her?
Luca smiled. Nothing. I chickened out and said I would tell her when she’s older.
I’m trying hard not to laugh right now. She is a bit young.
Another sip of wine. She saw us kissing.
The dots went on and on. When did she see us?
No idea. I’ll tell you all about it when you can talk.
Thirty minutes later, Brooke was finally able to call, and when she did, she was walking through the airport.
“What an ordeal,” Brooke said once he picked up. “There’s a crazy storm here. We circled the airport for a good thirty minutes, then had to stay on the plane for almost an hour after it landed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll take this over having a birds-and-bees talk with my kid.”
“I’m sure you would have handled it better than me.”
“Is this because she saw us?”
Luca left his empty glass on the counter and moved to his bedroom, kept his voice low. “I think so. And gossip. Her little friend heard the mamas talking, so Franny had questions.”
“About babies?”
“About you. About us.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“It puts you in an awkward situation, doesn’t it? It’s one thing to have the town weighing in on our dating, but Franny?”
“Don’t forget my mother.”
“Oh no. What did she say?”
He thought of his mama’s comments and decided to keep them to himself. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does. It puts pressure on you. Everyone needs to chill. Not Franny. But the mamas putting thoughts in her head. I’m sorry I’m not there to help you with all this.”
He sighed. “I’m glad you care enough to want to be. But I got it. I’m used to the gossip in this neighborhood.”
“Talking with adults involved is one thing. Completely different when it comes to kids . . . if you ask me.”
Brooke wasn’t wrong.
“I’m at baggage claim. I need to put the phone down to get my luggage.”
“Okay, cara.”
“Luca?”
“Yes?”
“I miss you already.”
He smiled as he disconnected the call.
Brooke was right.
Everyone needed to chill and let them be what they were going to be in their time.
Bret Downes came from serious money.
There was nothing small scale about the campaign they were putting together. The man already thought he was up there with Versace, Prada, and Gucci.
He wasn’t.
Nayla fell right into the size-zero runway model vibe and thought his impressions of high fashion, bold makeup, and flashy urban backgrounds were the way to go.
Mayson, with his move to Boise, saw the limitations of Downes’s reach if they only marketed to the upper Manhattan crowd.
Kayleigh did a whole lot of agreeing with what everyone else was saying. The girl either didn’t have an opinion, was afraid to voice it, or both.
Portia’s gaze fell on Brooke.
And Brooke was watching Downes and his reactions to the ideas being passed around.
“Here is the problem that I see,” Brooke started. “Our job is to give you a campaign that you love. Design ads and media pages and billboards that will put your name on the fashion map. But what I think you want from us, and what will actually get you on that map, are two different things right now. A few years ago, I’d have agreed with Nayla. Give New York a run. But the world has been slow in opening back up, I’m not sure focusing only on the urban socialite is the way to approach this. I say we dip a toe in that water, so in a couple years, when New Year’s Eve bashes are back in full fashion, you’re a name people will consider.”
Downes was listening.
“How do you suggest we do that?” Nayla asked.
“It starts with the models.”
Mayson knew where she was going.
Portia did, too. It was something she’d talked about before and often found the door closed in her face.
“Bret, look at the women in this room. Would you say any of us are overweight?”
He looked at each of them, then back to Brooke. “No. You’re all . . .”
“I’m not looking for compliments. But none of us would be put in your clothes and walk the runway. Why? Because no one here is a size two or less. If you’ve paid attention at all in recent years, you’d see that the industry is moving away from designing and modeling women in outfits that only twelve-year-olds can wear. If you want a campaign that will get you noticed, and sell your clothing, you must be inclusive. That starts with the models. Age, size . . . body type. Give us the freedom to explore this path, and let’s see what we can come up with.”
Downes was silent as he leaned back in his chair, his pen tapping against his knee.
Brooke half expected him to stand up and leave right then, dismissing her ideas completely.
“Portia?” he asked.