A Match Made Up

Chapter 2

Gigi's POV

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The long, polished dining table gleamed under the soft lighting of the chandelier, casting a warm glow on the half-empty wine glasses scattered across its length. A faint clink of silverware echoed through the high-ceilinged room as the Collins family, gathered around their regular Sunday night dinner, settled into their usual rhythm.

It was a quiet chaos, the kind only a family like mine could achieve. Despite the years that had passed, the pattern never changed—Dad would regale us with tales from his latest film set, Mom would subtly steer the conversation toward one of her charities, and Luca would sit at the edge, quietly observing, his mind already elsewhere. Griffin would drift in and out of the conversation, bringing up something that would ignite another round of arguments with his casual, off-the-cuff remarks. Sophie—always the diplomat—would smooth things over with a smile or a well-timed joke. And I, well, I was the listener, the mediator when needed, but mostly, I just sat back and watched the family dynamics unfold.

"Brigitte, you should really come on set next time. It’ll be great to have you around for a few days,” Dad said, his voice rich with excitement as he raised his wine glass, eyes alight with a spark of inspiration. “We’re filming in Italy next summer. I could use you for a cameo—your Italian is still perfect, right?”

Mom flashed a smile that was as effortlessly radiant as ever, the grace of a former supermodel still present in every movement. She tilted her head slightly, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "You know, Ryan, I’d love to, but I can’t just drop everything. You know my charity events are always at a peak around that time. I can’t just—" She broke off as her phone buzzed, a quick glance confirming it was a message from her assistant about an upcoming gala for children’s education. Mom’s life was a delicate balancing act of fashion, philanthropy, and family—and even with all the poise in the world, she was always juggling.

"Maybe next time," she added with a soft sigh, shifting her focus back to Dad’s ambitious offer.

Griffin, always the wildcard, shifted in his seat, his posture relaxed in the way only someone who’s inherited an enormous trust fund could manage. “Italy sounds cool and all, but I don’t know. I’ve got things to handle here. Granddad’s old office is still a mess. I’ll be back in the city soon enough.”

“And that is your contribution to the family legacy, Griffin?” Luca’s voice was low, laced with the dry humor that made him both charming and a little frustrating. My older brother, Luca, always seemed like he had a thousand other things on his mind, even when he was physically present at the table. As an actor, he was used to playing roles in other people’s stories, but sometimes, it felt like he was always playing at being part of this family.

Griffin scoffed, but there was no malice in it. “What’s the point in all this if you can’t make a little cash off it? Granddad left me a thriving business. Why not make it bigger?”

Luca rolled his eyes but didn’t push the issue further, taking a long sip of his drink instead. A thin layer of stubble covered his chin, a few days’ growth that gave him a certain rugged charm. At 32, he was still the golden child, the one who made everything seem effortless. A few big roles on hit TV shows had turned him into a household name, but tonight, he looked drained—too quiet for a man who usually commanded attention.

“You two are insufferable,” Sophie chimed in, her voice lilting with that youthful energy that made her the peacemaker in our family. At 24, Sophie had her own busy career as a publicist—often working with A-listers and international brands—but she always managed to keep her sense of humor intact. “I swear, you two are more alike than you care to admit.”

I smiled, enjoying the banter, even if it was so familiar it bordered on mundane. The dynamics hadn’t shifted in years, and sometimes, I felt like I was the only one who truly noticed. The laughs, the tension, the underlying bitterness of things unsaid—it was all woven into our family fabric, and sometimes I felt like I was unraveling at the edges.

“How’s work, Gigi?” Mom’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, soft and pleasant. She’d been watching me carefully, the faint lines around her eyes deepening as she gauged my mood.

I took a sip of my wine, offering a smile to ease her concern. “It’s good. Busy, as always,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Nothing new. Just the usual late nights at the firm.”

“Busy is good,” she replied, her smile barely hiding the touch of worry. "But don’t forget to live, sweetheart. Work’s important, but so is…everything else."

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I’m fine, Mom. Really. Just a lot to juggle right now.”

The table fell into a comfortable lull for a moment, the sound of silverware against plates filling the gaps where words were left unspoken. I could feel Luca’s gaze on me from across the table, but he said nothing. He rarely did unless it was absolutely necessary. Luca had a way of pulling you into his world without uttering a single word—a talent honed after years of performing for a living. But there were moments, like tonight, when I knew he wasn’t fully here. His mind was somewhere else entirely.

Sophie, ever the perceptive one, noticed too. “Luca,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all evening. You okay?”

Luca looked up, startled as though he’d been caught in a lie, but his smile was quick and convincing. “Yeah, just tired. Long week of shooting, you know? But don’t worry about me.”

Griffin snorted, his easy-going nature making him less concerned than the rest of us. “It’s always a ‘long week’ with you, Luca. Come on, admit it, you’re getting old.”

“Shut up, Griffin,” Luca shot back with a half-smile, his fingers tapping the edge of his wine glass. His phone buzzed suddenly, a sharp, insistent sound cutting through the conversation like a dagger. He glanced down at the screen, his expression immediately shifting, the easy smile gone.

“Sorry,” Luca said abruptly, his voice tight now. He stood up quickly, barely sparing a glance at any of us. “I have to take this. Work emergency.”

Mom frowned, a faint line appearing between her brows. “Luca, it’s Sunday. Is everything okay?”

Luca didn’t respond, his attention already on the phone in his hand as he stepped away from the table. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he called over his shoulder, the door to the front door clicking shut behind him before any of us could ask more.

We sat there, in the silence that followed, the food now lukewarm on our plates. The absence of Luca’s usual banter left a strange, uneasy void at the table.

“So… is everything really okay with him?” Sophie asked, voice low, her eyes tracking the door Luca had just exited.

I shrugged, pushing my uneaten food around on my plate. “Luca’s always been a bit… distant. It’s just how he is. He’ll be fine.”

Dad, who had been unusually quiet throughout the entire exchange, cleared his throat. “There’s more going on with Luca than we all know. But it’s not for us to pry.”

I caught the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his eyes briefly flickered toward the study. There was a long, complicated history between my father and Luca—one that no one really talked about anymore, but the tension still lingered.

“Yeah…” I said, my voice trailing off. “Maybe.”

Dinner continued, but for the first time all night, the weight of the conversation felt like it was settling over us. Luca had left, and for reasons I wasn’t entirely sure of, a little piece of my heart followed him out the door.

The evening stretched on, the conversation growing quieter, more fragmented. But even as the wine flowed, and the conversation drifted, my mind kept circling back to Luca. Something was off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had missed something—something important.