Page 14 of Contempt

It was Lucia’s.

He would try, if only she would let him. That was the thing, though … maybe she was too damn stubborn for her own good. Maybe she was like every good Marcello who knew how to hold a grudge like nobody’s business. Who cared what the reason was?

Lucia wasn’t ready to forgive.

She certainly couldn’t forget.

Distance and time should have helped. That’s why she came to California in the first place, but here it was … almost five years after Renzo had been taken from her, and she was still raw. It couldn’t be normal, but this contempt she lived with constantly felt like an old friend, now. A friend she wasn’t willing to give up because it was the only thing that left her with any sort of comfort, even if it was a cold one.

The Uber she had called earlier was already waiting at the entrance of her apartment building when she exited. She slipped into the backseat, and rattled off the address for the gallery as the phone in her bag started to vibrate with a call. She pulled it out to answer the call as the guy driving pulled out onto the road.

Lucia didn’t even bother to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Lucia.”

She smiled at her mother’s sweet tone.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Thought if I didn’t call you now, I’d probably miss you later,” Jordyn teased. “I never seem to get the time difference right.”

That … or the truth was more like Lucia often ignored calls that came from her parents’ home. There was a good chance it might be her father calling, and she didn’t want to have a conversation with him. She would rather ignore the call, and if it was her mother, Jordyn always left a message. She called her mother’s cell phone, then.

Simple.

Honestly, it was exhausting.

Whatever.

“You got me for a few minutes,” Lucia said, buckling up in the backseat when the driver gave her a look in the rearview mirror. “I’m heading over to the gallery for my shift this afternoon.”

“Yes, Kim said you were enjoying working there.”

Lucia heard the edge to her mother’s words. It wasn’t like Lucia called her aunt more than she called her mother, but considering that the curator Lucia worked under was also her aunt’s friend … well, it would make sense that the woman kept her aunt informed.

“It’s nice,” Lucia said. “Fits me, you know?”

“You always did have a healthy appreciation for art.” Jordyn cleared her throat, asking, “Have you given any thought to when you might be coming home again?”

“I—”

“I was hoping it would be soon,” her mother interjected before she could figure out some kind of excuse. “We would really like to see you, Lucia.”

By we her mother meant her father, too. But Jordyn was getting smarter about these conversations with Lucia. The less she brought Lucian up directly to her daughter, the more likely Lucia was to stay on the phone.

Damn her for being quick.

“I’ve only been at the gallery for six months, Ma,” Lucia said. “I don’t think I could get time off right now if I tried. Maybe in the summer, okay?”

Jordyn sighed.

If she knew her daughter was lying, she didn’t seem willing to call Lucia out on it. Truth was, the curator she was interning for had already told her that she could take up to a month’s worth of vacation, if she needed. And they were always willing to make arrangements if something came up like an emergency in case she needed to take more time. The gallery was a dream.

New York was the fucking nightmare.

“Okay,” Jordyn said softly. “Um, your father might call later.”

Lucia stared out the window at the passing buildings. A coldness settled in her heart as she replied, “Tell him not to bother, Ma.”