“Ever think about my mom after that night, or was it just sex for you?”

Okayyyy, that’s enough. I rushed into the hall to save Constantine from our son’s version of twenty questions. “I just need my stuff from the bathroom, and we’re good to go.”

Colin glared at me for interrupting his Scottish (now half Sicilian) Inquisition. Whereas his father met my eyes with a silent thank-you for coming to his rescue.

A smile crossed my lips—my version of you’re welcome—then I hurried up and finished getting my stuff together before our son had a chance to throw another wild curveball at the man.

15. Juliette

Chapter 15

Juliette

I fiddled with the radio as Constantine pulled into traffic, landing on a song that had my fingers going still.

A country worship song playing. The lyrics were about forgiveness and redemption. Based on Constantine’s white-knuckled grip of the wheel as the words were belted out, it was best that I just turned off the radio.

I rested my hands in my lap as an awkward silence filled the space, and it stayed that way for a few blocks until Colin came to the rescue, breaking it.

“You ever return that locket I bought Mom?”

“No.”

“What are you planning to do with it?”

Constantine checked his rearview mirror before changing lanes. “I’ll have you give it to her as planned on her birthday next weekend.”

“No, I can’t accept that.” I waved my hand between our seats.

“You can and you will.” His authoritative tone wasn’t lost on me.

Colin poked his head between our seats. “Good.”

“How’s your eye? Looks like it’s getting swollen.” My question sent Colin backward, stealing my chance to get a better look at him.

“Stop being such a nurse. I’m fine,” he complained.

“I’m being a mom.” My hands settled back on my lap as I gave up on nurse-momming him for the time being.

“Can you turn the radio back on?” Colin asked a moment later. “If not, I’m going to start asking more questions.”

Constantine beat me to the controls and turned on a pop station. “This good?”

“Country,” Colin requested, and Constantine quietly obliged him, clearly willing to do anything to dodge talking about himself.

I didn’t blame him. The whole morning gave new meaning to “a lot.”

“Max McNown. Good singer. Dope song,” Colin said.

Relief washed over me as we sat there in peace for the rest of the car ride.

It wasn’t until we pulled up to a beautiful building that Colin spoke again. “Whoa, this place is sick. You live here? Let me guess, on the top floor?”

Constantine didn’t answer, and I took that as a yes to both of Colin’s questions.