Game Face

∙Cat∙

Lunch with the Crawford/Angeli family is about as weird and awkward as you would imagine. Which is to say, very. From the moment my mom and brother walked in, Alessandra’s been glued to Ransom’s side, interchangeably gawking and staring off into the distance. Eventually, I hope having him here will be like a gift from fate (or more accurately, Reyna). A way of bringing Less a taste of home, something familiar. Right now, though, it’s just a big ball of weird.

As for Rance, he’s too busy texting to notice my cousin’s stares, and Austin keeps cracking inappropriate jokes. Lucas is silently watching everyone, and Jenna is uncomfortable, and no doubt a little insecure, so she’s all over the place, strung higher than normal, and chattering faster than Michael Phelps cuts through water. As for Dad and Caterina, they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table for a reason. Other than a private conversation right after they arrived, my guess about my brother, they’ve barely looked at each other. It’s safe to say the olive branch he extended via wedding invitation has been snapped in half.

Me? I’ve got my game face back on.

After Lucas left yesterday, it took a while for me to come down from my kissy stupor. But when I did, I crashed and burned. The culmination of discovering my mother had a secret love child, seeing her be as self-absorbed as I always feared, and the surprising hints of a real woman with depth sent me on an energy spiral. Less and I made an unspoken pact not to discuss any of it, instead choosing to spend the evening vegged out in front of the television. I’ve totally got her hooked on Family Feud.

But after a restless night of sleep, my eyes popped open this morning, and I could’ve sworn I heard Reyna’s voice floating in my room. At the very least, I remembered the lesson she sent me to the past to learn.

I’m a type A girl. I prefer things color-coded, organized, and within my control. Unfortunately, sometimes life sucks, and it rarely goes according to plan. My trip to the sixteenth century taught me that while I can’t control other people, or the actions that happen around me, I can control how I react. I might not have Caterina figured out yet, but that doesn’t matter. This isn’t her ship to command. It’s mine.

And I’m on a mission for normalcy.

“The meal was lovely, Jenna,” my mother says, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a beige linen napkin. “Thank you. I hope we weren’t any trouble, inviting ourselves over like this on such short notice. I’d hate to think we interrupted any of your plans.”

The overly bright smile my future stepmother has worn all morning fractures. Caterina has the good sense to wince. As Lucas squeezes my hand under the table, I catch Dad’s Papa Bear frown fall into place.

The elephant in the room is about to throw up.

“Just our wedding,” Jenna declares in a tight, controlled voice, her blond hair bouncing with the sharp shake of her head. Austin chokes, then coughs to cover it up as she places her hands on the table and pushes to her feet. “Excuse me, Peter, I have to go check on…” Mouth open, her gaze falls to our half-empty plates and the carved pie resting in the center of the table. Dad squeezes her hand. Unable to come up with a reason to bolt, other than she wants to, Jenna shrugs and simply says, “Excuse me.”

Caterina looks shell-shocked. Ransom actually puts down his phone. He glances at me, and even from across the table, I can see the humor shining in his eyes. It’s safe to say the strained-yet-civil tone of the last half hour has been obliterated. But I can’t help but be proud of Jenna. That was a huge step for the bubbly woman, and I’d bet my brand spanking new paintbrushes she’s in the kitchen right now doing a fist pump.

Dad tosses his balled-up napkin onto his plate. “I’ll be back.”

Mom gnaws on her full bottom lip as he clears the room. “Guess I put my foot in it, huh?”

More like buried her foot, but there’s no point in correcting her. Especially not when she actually looks apologetic. I’m not an idiot. I know my mother’s an actress, so faking emotions is kind of her gig…but honestly, this looks legit.

Unfortunately, I also can’t argue with the facts, so I ignore what I hope is a rhetorical question and say, “How long are the two of you staying in town?”

Caterina’s attention flicks to Ransom, who shifts in his seat. This is the first time since I’ve met the dude that he’s appeared almost flustered. Uncomfortable. An impressive feat considering the crap we’ve been dealing with. Our mother’s teeth sink farther into her lip before she releases it. “Well, actually, I plan to stay for the next two weeks. I have a few meetings lined up, things to do, and I hoped to spend some time getting to know you. The both of you. In fact, I’d like the pair of you to join me at an event on Thursday.”

She gives me what appears to be a genuine, hopeful smile, one that makes her eyes light up, and the shift sends me reeling. She keeps flipping the switch. Narcissistic one minute, humble the next. She reveals family secrets on national television and drops bombs in front of the stalkerazzi, then comes here for a private lunch and seems almost…normal. Not my kind of normal. Even at her most laidback, there’s no mistaking Caterina’s a starlet. But she’s nearly relatable.

These hidden layers are seriously messing with my head.

Dad returns a few moments later and takes his seat, announcing to the silent room, “Jenna will be out in just a minute. She’s on the phone with a client.” That’s a rather convenient story if I’ve ever heard one, but I’ll go with it. Dad pops his neck, a clear sign he’s feeling the tension of the room, then leans back and glances first at my mother and then at me. His eyes narrow. “What did I miss?”

“I’ve invited Caterina to join me at an event Thursday,” my mother replies, again with my full given name, invoking an inward groan.

I detest my name. Partially because it’s her name and partially because it just sounds pretentious. Ill-fitting. I’m not exotic or glamorous or cool enough to pull off Caterina. I’m Cat, pure and simple. But I bite my tongue. We already have enough drama to deal with today.

Lucas links our fingers together, and the gentle reassurance has my shoulders descending from my ears. He’s been quiet for the last hour. Just before he came over, his dad’s partner from Milan showed up at his door. The man said he had meetings at the LA office, but for some reason, Lucas doesn’t seem to buy it. His right leg is bouncing, and he’s distracted. The wheels in his brain are clearly churning, turning over this guy’s visit again and again like some weird ruminating cow. I don’t know why this bothers him so much, and now isn’t the time, but I squeeze his hand and make a mental note to ask him about it tonight.

Tonight.

The highlight of this wacky day gone awry. Chill bumps explode down my arms just thinking about our date, wondering where he’s taking me. What surprises he has up his sleeve. The boy is a romantic—it’s the artist side of him—and he never fails to make me feel special. And turned on.

“What kind of event?” Dad asks, steepling his fingers on the tabletop.

For a second, I think he’s asking about our date. Warmth fills my cheeks as I lower my lashes to avoid eye contact. Dad and I may be close, but we draw the line at dishing the deets about our love lives…especially now that I actually have one.

But then Mom answers.

“The premiere for the latest Holly Underhill film,” she says. “The director is a friend of mine, and I thought it would be something fun the kids and I could do together.”

The way she keeps calling us the kids rankles about as much as hearing her spew my full name. I’m not the five-year-old little girl she left behind. I’m sixteen. And Ransom is nineteen, already an adult. But hey, at least she wants to hang out with me. That’s an improvement over the last ten years.

The stupid, foreign hope I felt at the beach springs to life again inside me. The one that makes me think it’s possible that she really has changed, despite the media circus yesterday. That maybe, just maybe, we can have some semblance of a mother/daughter relationship. If not a normal one, at least one that isn’t fractured beyond repair.

Dad taps his lips twice, drags in a deep breath, then squeezes his temples. “Thursday is a school night.”

He closes his eyes as if in pain, and I imagine I can see the good and bad angels screaming in his ears. They look a lot like Jenna and Caterina.

The bad angel is reminding Dad that this is what he’s always wanted for me—a chance to know my mother. To figure out the other half of my DNA, get over my trust issues, and officially move on from the past. Since things got serious with Jenna, he’s been urging me to embrace our new family unit. In many ways, I have. Jenna’s and my relationship is leaps and bounds better than it was a few months ago, thanks to my trip to the past. Spending a week in the sixteenth century gave me a fresh perspective on my present. My aunt helped me appreciate Jenna’s wonderful traits and realize that there was room in Dad’s life for both of us, even though my future stepmom and I are so drastically different. But it wasn’t a miracle cure.

Meanwhile, the good angel is recapping how hard he’s worked to shelter me from the business. Dad’s über-protective, so while I do go with him to events from time to time, say a film location or to one of his premieres, I’m usually whisked into the theater on arrival as he gives his requisite sound bite. Something tells me Caterina will have her newly reunited family standing right beside her on the red carpet.

“Do you want to go to a premiere?” Dad asks, opening his eyes to search mine.

Way to lob a loaded question.

Do I want to go? Honestly, no. Spotlight, attention, cameras, and crowds are not my scene. But along with that rainbow-and-ponies fantasy of Mom and me skipping off into the sunset, I still want answers about my past, and the only way to get them may just be to step inside Caterina’s world. Be around her more than just a few brief moments so I can decipher truth from fiction. Person from persona.

So, I say, “Why not? It could be fun.”

I feel the weight of Lucas’s stare on my cheek, but I don’t turn to meet it.

Dad hesitates before letting out a long breath. “All right. But I’m sending Jack with you.”

Caterina nods, clearly understanding this isn’t negotiable. Another weird silence falls, and I glance at Ransom. He hasn’t said anything this whole time, just sat there silently watching and fiddling with his fork.

I wish I knew his story. Knew how he really felt about our mother, and about me. Is he down for this whole togetherness gig, or is he as wary and confused as I am? Lucas doesn’t trust him. Normally, that’s my department. But when it comes to Ransom, I can’t seem to find the energy. I understand the need to know your parents. To see where you come from and get answers about your past.

For the first time since he walked into the airport terminal, I look at him—really look at him and not the boy who looks like Cipriano or the rocker who seems so lost. He’s nineteen years old, on his own, an adult who must have some kind of life back home. Yet he sought our mother, this spectacle, out for a reason. What is it?

What does he hope to gain?

Rance glances up and catches me staring. His dark eyes give nothing away. After a moment, I force a smile and take a bite of Jenna’s chocolate cream pie. Maybe the answers lie in a sugar rush. Right now, it’s about the best plan I’ve got.