We moved through the cozy backyard, where the grill smoked and long folding tables were packed with food and drink. The chatter of my family filled the air, kids darting between chairs and grown-ups swapping stories. Somehow, my nerves stayed at a low level—worrying that we’d be caught in a lie had disappeared the second my mom met Allie, and now I just worried a little that I’d struggle to let go of the Tate girls after witnessing the beauty of this day.
At one point, I even fulfilled my promise to Daphne. With some help from my cousin Juan, I corralled a handful of kids onto the grass, setting up a makeshift soccer game with overturned chairs as goalposts. Allie sat on a blanket nearby, laughing every time one of the kids dramatically flopped to the ground or cheered like they’d won the World Cup. Daphne got bolder every time she kicked the ball, and I tried not to read too much into how good it felt to give this little girl such a fun afternoon. Watching her laugh as she chased the ball, her little curls bouncing, I couldn’t help but feel something warm and dangerous bloom in my chest. A desire to stay in her life. To keep her and her beguiling mother long-term.
While the kids took a water break and I found myself alone in the line for food, my mom sidled up to me, wiping her hands on the apron she’d donned as she helped my uncle with the grill.
“She’s sweet,” Mom said casually, her eyes on Allie, who was at the other end of the yard, talking easily with my cousin Juan’s new fiancée.
I glanced at my mother warily. “Yeah. They’re both really great. I’m glad they’ve been fitting in so well.”
Even I could get overwhelmed at the size and raucousness of our Sanchez family events, but Allie and her little girl had taken it all in stride.
“Mmm.” Mom smiled knowingly. “She makes you happy. I can see it.”
A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. The lie knocking its ugly fists against the walls of my rib cage. I smiled back anyway, trying to keep things light. “She’s great,” I repeated. “Daphne too.”
“I can tell,” Mom said, squeezing my arm. “You light up when you look at both of them. I love seeing you so…” She trailed off. “I’ve never been good with words. But I think you know what I mean.”
I had a guess anyway. Before I could figure out how to respond, before I could figure out how to lie to my own mother without making things worse for everyone involved, I heard the unmistakable sound of conversation dying around us.
The air shifted like the temperature had dropped. Like a cloud was covering the sun, even as it was still shining.
I glanced up toward the driveway, my stomach sinking as soon as I spotted the tall, imposing figure standing stiffly near the backyard gate.
Marco Branchini.
My father.
His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes scanning the backyard like he was already disappointed in everyone here.
The chatter of the party had faded to an awkward, hushed murmur, everyone noticing the tension that rolled in with him like a dark cloud.
I swallowed, dread settling in my chest. Allie and Daphne had signed up for a happy, easygoing Sanchez gathering, and I’d been so sure that the worst they’d have to contend with would be my aunts being a little nosier than they’d bargained for. But now, it looked like they were joining the family for real, whether they liked it or not—the brewing drama would be their initiation.
18
ALLIE
“We didn’t know you were coming, Dad,” Luca said quietly, his warm voice still carrying through the tense silence like a bullet. I noticed the deliberate lack ofWhat a nice surpriseorBut we’re glad you cameorWe’re so happy to see you.
“Do I have to alertmyfamily”—Mr. Branchini’s deep, accented voice carried a sense of entitlement, like thatmymeant his family was his property to do with as he wished—“when I’m coming to afamilyevent?”
I saw Rose flinch, and in seconds, I was moving across the yard to stand at Luca’s side, the two of us subtly blocking his mother’s smaller form behind us. Closer up, I could see that Luca’s father was an attractive older man. That Luca’s well-honed features definitely came in large part from the man in front of me, though Mr. Branchini’s face lacked the delicate beauty of his son’s. Where Luca was like someone painted by one of the old masters, elegant and lovely and just chiseled enough to not be feminine, his father was colder. Harder in a way that felt untouchable.
“No,” Luca allowed carefully, answering the rhetorical question. “But since we don’t usually see you at this kind of stuff, you can’t blame me for wondering why you showed up this time.”
If I hadn’t already picked up on the tension between the two men before, this certainly would’ve tipped me off that Luca felt less than warm and fuzzy about his dad. His voice had a rough edge to it that I hadn’t heard before, and a ripple of soft gasps went through the gathered family.
I kept my stance beside Luca firm, even as the unease thickened in the air. Marco’s presence had a chilling effect on the atmosphere, casting a shadow over the barbecue that had been warm and welcoming just moments before. I could feel Luca’s bone-cracking tension beside me, his jaw tight as his father scanned the gathering like he was surveying a distasteful hovel and finding it lacking.
Daphne was still clustered with the other kids, all of them seeming confused by the sudden shift in mood and pause to their play, but I felt an overwhelming need to keep her close. I didn’t trust this man—not his sharp eyes, nor the cold disdain that seemed to settle into every word he spoke. I excused myself from Luca’s side long enough to call Daphne over, crouching to meet her at eye level.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I murmured, brushing a loose curl from her face. “Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit?”
Daphne, perceptive as ever, glanced around and seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation even if she didn’t understand it. She nodded, taking my hand, and I pulled her close as I returned to Luca’s side. If nothing else, I needed the assurance that she was safe from whatever storm was brewing here.
The Sanchez side of the family—lively and expressive just minutes ago—had settled into uncomfortable silence, theirsmiles forced and their eyes wary. Even Luca’s mother, Rose, held herself differently, shoulders drawn in as if she were trying to take up less space. Marco stood at the edge of the group like an intruder, though he acted as if he belonged more than any of them did. Like he owned the place. Owned all of them.
The first cutting remark came soon after. One of Luca’s aunts, a warm woman who had earlier gushed over Daphne, tried to ease the tension by offering Marco a plate of food.
