Page 84

Théa smirked, and I wagged a warning finger at her.

‘Maman, non, il n’est pas mort. He’s not dead. I called his agent, Ian, in London, and he told me Max is on set. Because it’s a period piece, he might be refusing to have anything to do with modern technology.’

I massaged my temples, frustration burning through me.

‘I even tracked down his personal assistant, Saskia. They both said the film location in Italy is locked down. No communications in or out.’

Théa frowned and cursed under her breath.

‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘Mother, please, not now.’

‘Forget Massimo. How are you taking it?’ she asked, her gaze scanning my features through the lens.

I tilted my head, considering the question. ‘Quite well, which somehow surprises me.’

‘Why aren’t you tearing down walls?’ Théa demanded, leaning closer to her camera. ‘The Ana I know would be boarding a flight to Lake Como, sealed-off set or not, to demand answers.’

I shrugged.

‘What would it achieve? He’d probably refuse to see me because it would ruin his method acting and his focus on the 1800s.’

‘The Ana I know would have tried. Does this sudden reticence have something to do with the fact that you’re staying with your gorgeous ex and enjoying the care he’s giving you?’ my mother asked, a knowing lilt in her voice.

‘Hey,’ I protested, heat rising to my cheeks. ‘It’s not that.’

She wagged a finger at me.

‘Deacon, mon chéri, was always your rock, even when you fought. He was steady while you were the flighty, artsy, creative one. When are you going to learn that true love isn’t about a flashy knight in shining Gucci who sweeps you off your feet?’ Théa countered. ‘It’s about a partner who protects your sanity. It’s about a man who is there for you during a disaster and saves you from yourself. Between Max and Deacon, who actually gives you that?’

I sighed as Raff and Deacon surfed in the distance.

I already knew the answer.

I turned back to the phone.

‘So what are you saying, Mama? That I go through a second divorce?’

‘If it restores you your peace of mind, then oui,’ Théa declared without hesitation. ‘I find no shame in it.’

‘Spoken like a typical Parisian.’

‘Always.’

I considered her words for a moment. ‘But what if Deacon doesn’t want me?’

‘Your ex flies across an entire continent on his own dime to fetch you during a volcanic international crisis, and you think he doesn’t want you?’

‘He was being a good friend,’ I argued, trying to convince myself. ‘He explicitly said Raff put the idea in his head. He did it for our son.’

‘Somehow, I’m not convinced,’ Théa muttered.

She’d always adored Deacon and had never warmed to Massimo from their first meeting.

I remembered how she summed Max up back then: ‘C’est un playboy, un séducteur. He’s too suave, too slick, and too flirty with every woman in the room, including me, your mother.’

Starry-eyed and in love, or so I thought, I brushed her off.