“Hence the stuff with Gav,” Cade filled in. “The…industry interest.”
“Yeah,” I answered simply, and I watched his quiet face—not quite inscrutable, but not expressive enough to be the opposite—mull over this brief moment of camaraderie between us. I was warmed by the flicker of connection too. I’d almost forgotten about the looming something he wanted to talk about, the reason he’d shown up today in the first place, when Cade’s rough voice broke through like a record scratch, shattering the fledgling goodness.
“Do you have my ring?” he asked abruptly, confusing me at first, but he quickly clarified. “The ring from Vegas. Diamond, white gold band.”
I blinked at him. “Um … what?”
“My ring,” he repeated, skeptical. The sudden edge in his tone had annoyance flaring to life inside me. Cade huffed when I didn’t immediately reply. “The ring I gave you at our fake wedding. I need it back, if you still have it.”
The same chaotic energy that had led me to ask Gavin for help getting famous took over as I said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Of course I knew what he was talking about. That ring, far prettier than the two other baubles I’d gotten during thequickiewedding—not the “fake” wedding—still lived in my old jewelry box, unless it had wandered away on its own somehow. But he didn’t get to barge into my workplace, interrupt my day, and then make rude demands while I had been trying to have an actual conversation with him. Cade’s brows knit together, his frustration evident.
“You’ve got to remember it,” he insisted, and I poked the bear by shrugging a little. He scrubbed a hand over his beard. “Listen, I’m sure you’ve gathered that the ring is valuable. I’m looking into the legal side of things, about who is the rightful owner of it, especially considering the circumstances when I gave it to you by mistake. But I’d rather avoid all of that and just get it back.”
Was he implying that I…wanted money? I wasn’t sure if I should be more offended at that implication about my own priorities, or at his own apparent greed. The way he was basically threatening me with legal action if I didn’t give him back somethinghegave tome.It wasn’t like I’d even asked for the damn thing.
The longer I sat in the angry silence with him, the more pissed off I became. I hated the entitlement he was showing, the implication that I needed or wanted the money. I worked hard as hell to provide for Daphne and me. Sure, we didn’t have a lot, but that didn’t mean I was the type to pawn something the second I learned it could fetch a good price, consequences be damned.
If that was the type of man he was, then any respect I may have built for him as he talked about his art would disappear in a flash. Sure, I wanted success for my own art too, but no part of me had ever sought out money at the expense of my soul.Realartists weren’t so…greedy. Maybe he’d made up the sensitive artist shit just to get me on his side.
Regardless, I was no longer worried about how hot he was. This rude side of him made him far less attractive. A small blessing.
“I don’t appreciate being threatened,” I told Cade tersely, standing from the booth and snatching away his coffee cup and the carafe as I went. “And I don’t have your stupid ring. So if you don’t mind, kindly get the fuck out of my diner.”
I didn’t let myself acknowledge Cade’s shocked face as I stomped off, clutching the to-go coffee cup tightly in my fist. We may not have had a successful conversation or made any progress on getting the marriage annulled, but at least now I could get something productive out of this unfortunate encounter.
Kara was kind enough to cover for me as I ducked out of the diner for the day, coffee cup still in hand. I hoped to God it’d be enough to get a good test on Cade’s DNA.Paternity test, here I come.
One down. And I prayed quietly that it would be negative, that my little girl didn’t share half her genes with Cade Farmer.
8
LUCA
The rhythmic sound of my sneaker soles hitting the pavement filled my ears as I jogged through the sleepy streets of Allie’s town. The morning air carried the scent of salt from the Pacific, blending with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the small businesses I passed. It was much quieter here than LA, even though it wasn’t terribly far. Maybe it wasn’t a place I’d ever imagined traveling, but I’d always liked checking out new places. Once, I’d hoped to go pro with soccer, and I’d always loved the idea of getting to travel. I told myself that long-dormant desire for new places was my main reason for going out for a run today.
Besides, I liked running. It was meditative for me, and it was good for keeping me in tip-top soccer shape, even if I’d settled into my role as a soccer coach by now and given up the dream of athletic stardom. As a kid, I’d gotten into the sport in the first place because of my Italian father’s own obsession withcalcio,and even though I’d long since given up any hope of sports bringing Marco Branchini and myself closer together, I’d never lost the love of the game.
I’d meant to use this time to clear my head, to push away thoughts of Allie, of Vegas, of the ridiculous situation we found ourselves in. Not to dwell on unpleasant family drama. But as I slowed my pace, winding down, I glanced at my surroundings and saw that I wasn’t far from Marv’s Diner. Like I’d unconsciously taken a route that would lead closer to Allie’s workplace, to her.
My pace slowed all the way to a stop, my heart rate taking its sweet time in getting back to normal. Would it be weird to stop in and say hi to her, or would it be weirder to be in the area andnotannounce my presence somehow? I could use some breakfast after my run, and it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be besides waiting with my equally stir-crazy friends back at the beach house. Plus, the diner’s menu had looked pretty good that first day, and I hadn’t gotten to eat any of it. My stomach growled a little in reaction to the thought.
But it wasn’t about the food, and I knew it. It was really about Allie.
I exhaled sharply, picking up my pace for another short stretch, trying to shake the thought. There was no future there, no reason to see her until we had an update about the annulment. And yet my feet itched to turn in her direction, to find some excuse to bump into her again.
I spotted a small juice bar and decided to duck inside, ordering a protein smoothie to at least justify the detour. As I waited, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I barely had time to register my mother’s contact before I answered without thinking. Her lovely face appeared on the screen for a video call—her smile bright, eyes practically glowing with excitement.
“Luca!” she practically sang, adjusting the angle of her phone so I could see her better. The hazel-green eyes we shared, the smile that was all hers. “My beautiful boy, how are you?”
I smiled despite myself, despite the looks I was getting from the few other people in the juice bar. I dug in my pockets for my headphones, letting them pair with my phone as I popped them in my ears. “I’m good, Mom. Just grabbing a smoothie after a run.”
“You went on a run? On your vacation?” Her tone was playful, but I could see the curiosity brimming beneath it.
“It’s a good way to see the sights,” I said lamely.
“Is that what this little trip is about? I had no idea you were so interested in exploring more of the area where you’ve always lived.”
