“I don’t know about you . . . but I need a drink.”
Luca turned around to see his brother standing in the doorway of the kitchen wearing lounge pants and a worried grin.
“How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough to need a drink.” Gio walked behind the bar, grabbed a bottle and two glasses.
“Damn it to hell.”
“She’s back to be a mom.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No.” Gio poured a generous portion of something amber into a glass and handed it to Luca. He drank it without question and put the empty back on the bar.
Giovanni refilled.
“What are you going to do?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
“This isn’t going to work.” Nayla stood in front of the storyboards bitching.
They had the weekend to bring the ideas together and get the last-minute models and the setting onto a stage to show Bret how to move forward. Once they had that approval, they would face the next hurdle.
“Why?”
Nayla looked at the images of the models. “They’re average.”
“They’re beautiful,” Kayleigh pointed out.
“But average.”
“I think your problem is they’re not scowling.” Mayson pointed his pencil at Nayla.
The phone in Brooke’s back pocket rang.
She glanced at it, saw her father’s face.
She dismissed the call. He knew she was out of town and to call back only if there was an emergency.
“Mayson might be right,” Brooke said. “You’re used to high fashion and a lack of expression.”
“How can you say that?” Nayla was truly offended.
“Because she’s right,” Kayleigh said. The girl had found her backbone and was using it. “Those ads look plastic.”
“Those ads cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“And only appeal to people who make hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Mayson pointed out.
“That’s what our client wants.”
Much as Brooke hated to admit it, Nayla was right.
Brooke’s phone rang again.
Her father’s face.
“I have to get this.”
Nayla rolled her eyes. “Am I the only one here who takes their job seriously?”
“Hey, back off,” Mayson growled.
Brooke walked away from the group. “Hi, Dad . . . is everything okay?”
“I need a haircut.”
“What?”
“I need a haircut. You said we could do it this w-week.”
Brooke squeezed her eyes shut. “Dad, I told you I needed to go out of town, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I’m in Texas. Your haircut has to wait.”
“But—”
“Dad, I’ll call the home. They have someone there who can do that for you.”
“Not this week. Nobody wants to work anymore.”
“Dad . . .” Brooke looked up to see Nayla staring at her. “I’ll call and see what I can do. Is everything else okay?”
“It’s fine.”
“Good. I have to go.”
Brooke disconnected the call and turned to face her team.
Nayla scowled. “Can we get back to work here?”
“I literally have less than five minutes to talk.”
Luca heard Brooke’s frantic voice over the phone and knew this was not the time to drop his news.
“Is everything okay?”
“I told you that Nayla was on point for this project. But I pitched an idea that we’re running with. If it tanks, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’ll be looking for another job.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Tell me about it. And then, in the middle of a meeting, my dad calls for a haircut.”
“A what?”
“You heard me. A haircut. Seriously, Luca. I told him I was going out of town and to call for an emergency only. He calls because he needs to look good for the ladies during bingo.” Brooke sounded as if she was walking.
“Where are you?”
“On my way to my room to change. God forbid you meet the client in casual clothing. I like dressing up. There’s a place for it. But Texas is hot.” She paused. “Is everything okay there? How is Franny? Tell her I’m studying.”
“Are you?”
“No. But lie for me, okay? I’ll cram on the airplane coming home. Shit.” The sound from the phone grew distant.
“What happened?”
“I dropped my key. I’m sorry, Luca. It’s not normally this chaotic.”
He sighed, had so much to tell her but knew this wasn’t the time.
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine, cara. I have a chef out. I’ll be working a lot the next few days.”
“Text when you can. I’ll get the messages and respond.”
He smiled. “I will.”
They said their goodbyes and Luca disconnected the phone.
Franny walked around the corner from her room, ready for school. “Was that Brooke?” she asked.
“It was, and she wanted you to know she is studying.”
Franny smiled. “Good. Because I have a pop quiz.”
Luca paused. “A what?”
“Pop quiz. It’s a surprise test teachers do sometimes. And I have one for Brooke.”
“I’m sure she’ll do fine.”
Franny hiked her backpack over her shoulder a little higher. “Let’s go.”
Luca found himself staring at his daughter and worried about sharing her with a mother she didn’t remember. “Let’s go,” he repeated.
“What do you want? What do you really want?” Luca sat across from Antonia in one of the many tables in the courtyard of the Marriott. They moved away from the pool, and anyone that could overhear them.
She had suggested they talk up in her room. He refused.
He didn’t trust her and wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding in his feelings.
“I have no ulterior motive, Luca. I want to know my daughter.”
“For how long? A week? A month?”
Antonia sat forward. “I don’t expect you to understand. I have lost years already. My own fault, I know. That’s going to change.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” Luca rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in circular motions. The questions coming out of his mouth had been thought of the night before with Gio. Antonia never planned anything, unless it was a way to get what she wanted without working for it.
Even now, looking at her, he could see the shadow of an ulterior motive. She was perfectly polished. Her nails painted, those eyelash extension things women liked. Luca couldn’t tell you a designer label to save his life, but her clothes didn’t look worn or outdated.
The car she drove was not the one she’d left town with years ago.
“It starts with me seeing my little girl. Spending time with her.”
“What does that look like to you?” he asked.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“What is your plan, Antonia? Your life plan? How do you plan on being a part of Franny’s life? You gave up custody when you walked away. You handed me divorce papers and said we could fight, or I could give you what you wanted, and you’d leave.” He pointed to his chest. “I held up my end of the bargain. You got your lump sum, your freedom, and never looked back.”