“Not sure what I could add to your life at this point, kid.”
I stare into the strange-yet-familiar eyes of a woman who was conditioned to believe her own son would be better off without her.
But it ends today.
With me.
“You’re family, Frankie,” I say, still attempting to comprehend that the woman standing before me is the very woman who brought me into this world. For that reason alone, she’ll never have to want for anything for the rest of her days. If she needs any kind of help at all—I won’t hesitate to arrange it. But one thing at a time. “Let’s make this right. Let’s fix this.”
She swipes her apron off the chair and ties it around her narrow waist before grabbing a rattan purse off the counter and a set of keys dangling with a car dealership worth of keychains.
Walking out together, she locks up behind us.
“I’d give you a hug or something, but I’m not a touchy-feely person,” she says as she shuffles across the grass to her Grand Am.
“Same,” I sniff. “I’ll call you.”
Unlocking her car, she gives me a casual wave. I take it she’s not one for emotions or sentiment. Maybe it’s a Catalano thing. For the most part, we’re doers not feelers. A second later, her engine hums to life, muffler coughing as she backs out of the gravel drive and heads west.
On my drive back to Rossi’s, I think of my daughter. I think of her twenty years from now. Thirty. Fifty. Anonymous donor or not, I’m a part of her. And the idea of Lucia growing up without knowing everything weighs heavy on my mind.
As her mother, Rossi gets to choose what Lucia knows and when she knows it. But as her biological father, I need to make it unquestionably clear that I want to know my daughter and be there for her in every moment of this rollercoaster we call life.
I don’t want Lucia to wake up on her 52nd birthday and wonder if her life could’ve been different if only a piece of it wasn’t missing.
I’ve spent the last week falling hard for Lucia’s mother, but not once have we sat down to figure out my role in Lucia’s life going forward.
For the next two hours, I replay my last exchange with Rossi, the cruel accusations I hurled at her without giving her a moment to explain. The hatred in my voice. The arrogance in my stance. The clench in my jaw. She was adamant that she didn’t do it. And while I wanted to believe her, I was so worked up, I couldn’t fucking see straight let alone think straight.
I lost my cool.
I hope I didn’t lose her too.
Chapter 33
Rossi
* * *
I switch off Lucia’s lamp and place her in her crib when two headlights flash across my driveway. For hours, I tried calling Fabian to tell him about Dan, only his phone went to voicemail every time. For a moment, I wondered if he’d blocked me. And by the end of the night, I was convinced he’d written me off completely, which only made me stew over this entire thing even more.
All night as I cared for my daughter, I went through the motions, forced smiles and did my best “mom voice,” but our little exchange was running circles through my head. And not only that, but I kept tapping out furious texts to Dan—only to delete them before they could be sent.
Carina was right—Fabian needs to deal with this.
He has the means and the connections.
And I need to maintain a safe distance from Dan … just in case.
I meet Fabian at the door a minute later, swinging it open before he has a chance to knock.
“Look who came back.” I lean against the jamb, arms folded. “Been trying to call you all night.”
“I turned my phone off … went to see Frankie.”
I lift a brow, despite the fact that I’m beyond upset with him right now, I’m a sucker for a long-lost family reunion story. “How’d it go?”
“You mind if I come in so we can talk?” he asks.
Stepping back, I nod. “I just put Lucia down, so as long as you refrain from raising your voice at me this time …”
His shoulders sag and he exhales, eyes softening. “I’m sorry, Rossi. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“No,” I say. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I got that call this morning, and I just … I blacked out. I saw red. I went for the jugular,” he says. “I don’t give a damn what the press writes about me. I’m used to that shit. But Lucia’s privacy and safety is paramount. That’s why I was so upset. And I’m still upset, but I’ve had some time to calm down, to think about our next step, and—”
“—it was Dan,” I interrupt.