by Sam Mariano
“Plus, if I die, I’m never going to find out which mug she picks out for me this year.”
Carly smiles up at me. “See? You have so much to live for.”
A little more seriously, I tell her, “As long as I have you, I do.”
Smiling tenderly, she brings a hand up to caress my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
---
I do not go to pre-dinner drinks. Carly and I are running a little late getting ready anyway, but to be frank, I just have no fucking desire to sit in the study and drink with the assholes who have killed or stolen every shred of love or happiness I’ve ever had in my life. All I want to do is keep my new source of love and happiness far away from them and survive this week of Hell.
Since it is Easter weekend, we couldn’t arrange the funeral until Monday. It’s Wednesday now and we’re on steady ground, so we only have to survive five more days. That’s not so many days, right?
We make our way to the dining room, hand-in-hand, just in time for the drinks to be poured. It’s not a Sunday or a holiday, so not everyone is here, but I see right away the seating arrangement has changed drastically since I lived here. Mateo used to head the table with Adrian at the foot. Mateo used to be flanked by Mia and Meg. Mateo remains at the head of the table, of course, with Mia to his left, but now Adrian sits on Mateo’s other side across from Mia, in Meg’s old spot. Meg sits down near the foot of the table now, across from Alec.
Since Mateo’s a dick, there are exactly two empty spots for us tonight—one beside Adrian, one beside Mia.
Carly drops into the seat next to Mia so I don’t have to.
Of course, that puts me right next to Adrian and looking directly at Mia and Carly while I eat. I slide Mateo a look to let him know he’s a dick. He smiles.
“This is cozy,” I remark.
“It’ll be even cozier Sunday,” Adrian replies.
“Where’s your wife?” Carly asks, pleasantly enough. “I figured she’d be at dinner.”
Adrian flicks a glance at Carly. “She decided to stay with the kids tonight.”
“We all got to spend some time together today,” Mia announces, looking quite pleased with life. “We were discussing Disney World.”
Adrian heaves a sigh. “I think I’d rather kill a guy than hear more about Disney World.”
“I don’t think, I know,” Mateo agrees.
“It’s going to be great,” Mia informs them. “You’re both going to love it.”
“Adrian can love it for me,” Mateo tells her. “I’ll live vicariously through the 8,000 pictures you’re sure to send me.”
“On the first day,” Adrian adds.
Mia raises her eyebrows innocently. “It didn’t go so well last time you let me out of your sight for a whole week. That’s all I’m saying.”
Mateo regards her with a dry look. “Yes, well, Adrian wouldn’t send you back with the same kind of souvenir Vince did.”
Adrian snorts. “That’s a safe bet.”
Carly stares at the table, grimacing like she can’t believe they’re joking about this.
Seeing we’re both uncomfortable, Mia changes the subject. “Anyway, Carly gave me a cute Easter craft idea to do with the babies. I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep Roman still long enough to do it, but I definitely want to do it with Dom. Little carrot footprints.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Mateo deadpans.
“They’ll be cute,” she says, leaning back as Maria delivers her salad. “Thank you, Maria.”
Maria nods and drops a third salad off for Adrian before heading back to the kitchen.
“So, is Adrian your new second wife?” I ask, since he has Meg’s old place at the table.
“Mia’s second husband,” Adrian states, no humor in his voice. “Should’ve kept your cool; could’ve been you.”
Even though she mostly avoids doing so, Mia addresses me. “He’s joking, obviously. Dante dubbed Adrian my second husband—all the work, none of the perks—and it kinda stuck. Everyone but Elise is in on the running joke.”
“Yes, we don’t tell that joke in front of Elise,” Adrian agrees.
I nod. “Make sure to bring it up in front of Elise. Got it.”
Mateo takes the reins, since apparently dinner is off to too pleasant a start for his liking. “Nah, Vince never liked sharing, did you, Vince?”
It’s so easy for him to water the seeds of irritation he planted so long ago. “We were never sharing,” I remind him. “Sharing implies things like knowledge and consent. It’s just called cheating without both of those.”
“Oh, right.” Mateo nods. “And what was it called when she tried to leave you, but you wouldn’t let her?”
I cock my head, as if in consideration. “I believe you call that love. That’s what you did to the last love of your life, right? That’s why she turned on you? Guess I could’ve learned from your mistakes, but hey, I like to make my own.”
Beth doesn’t seem to be as sore a spot anymore, because he seems more amused and less annoyed than I was hoping for. His hand moves to cover Mia’s, but he keeps his gaze on me as he states, “There’s only one love of my life, and she’s sitting right here.”
It shouldn’t sting, but it does. It’s not pain, like it would have been before Carly. It feels like more of an insult, I guess, if I’m being honest. He stole my favorite toy and added insult to injury by having more fun with it than I ever did.
Mia and I never wanted the same things. I see that now, but I couldn’t back then. She clearly likes this asshole and I never wanted to be like him. The life she has with him is the life she wants, with his domineering treatment and his shit-stirring ways. I like the peace of living in Connecticut with Carly, tucked away from dangerous, powerful men. I love her idea of forming our own family, bringing Laurel to Connecticut, maybe luring Cherie out there. We can keep the pieces of our past that we like and build the rest from scratch.
There’s still a competitive sliver of me that’s annoyed Mateo got Mia, but I realize we’re probably all much happier for it in the long run. Maybe Carly was right; maybe everything does happen for a reason.
My gaze flits to Mia across the table. Her head is bowed, her eyes downcast. She didn’t move her hand, it still rests beneath his, but she feels badly, since he doesn’t.
I don’t want her to feel badly anymore.
“Well, as long as Mia feels the same way, then I’m happy for you,” I say, simply.
Mia’s head snaps up, her wide blue eyes meeting mine. Clearly, she was not expecting that. I wasn’t either, but fuck it. The smile that follows feels damn good. Tentative at first, then wider. Grateful.
Chapter Twenty Four
Vince
After dinner, I hang around talking to Alec for a few minutes until Mia and Mateo separate. He heads off with Adrian and Mia goes alone into the kitchen.
I wait until I can get away by myself, then I slip inside. Tonight she stands in front of the sink, dressed up in a white and gold glittery dress with red-soled heels on her feet, scrubbing a pan until it’s clean. This is how she looked that first night I snuck into her house, though without any of the wealth back then. The sight of her now strikes a bittersweet chord. Why is she even helping clean up? There are people to do that here.
Despite being one of the wealthiest women in Chicago, Mia grabs a sponge off the edge of the sink and scrubs a dirty pot.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
Her head snaps up in surprise. Wariness briefly flits across her pretty features, but then she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I know. I’m just helping so it gets done faster and everyone can relax.”
I shake my head at her. “You never change, do you?”
Her smile slips. “I’ve changed. We’ve all changed.” She looks down into the sink and her hair falls forward in her face. Without giving it much thought, I reach out and catch the chunk of hair, tucking it behind her ear.
The tenderness catches her off gua
rd. She looks over at me and her eyes shine again. I smile faintly. “Now why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad,” she says, shaking her head and blinking the moisture away. “I am pregnant again, and my hormones are slightly out of whack, but… not sad.”
I did not know that. The knowledge almost amuses me. “He had something to prove, huh?”
“Apparently,” she says, smothering a smile and reaching forward to turn off the faucet. “I’m so glad you found Carly. You seem really happy with her.”
“I am happy with her.”
“That’s what I wanted for you. Desperately. After Vegas, I wasn’t sure…. I felt so horrible. I felt like I’d broken you.”
I shake my head, crossing my arms and looking down at the Tuscan tile. “Only you would worry about that after what I did to you. I hurt you, and you worry about hurting my feelings. Same old Mia, just dressed up in more expensive clothing.”
“And better shoes.”
I reach for her wrist, turning her around and dragging her into my arms. She hesitates for a split second, but then she melts against my chest, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me back. I lean in near her ear. I know there are fucking cameras in this room, and this moment is mine, so I murmur quietly, “I’m so sorry, Mia.”
She nods her head against my chest, but doesn’t speak. I take her silence to mean she’s probably all teary again. I hear her sniffling, confirming my suspicions. “I’m gonna ruin your shirt,” she murmurs.
I chuckle, rubbing her back. “That’s all right. I’ve ruined more than a shirt in my time.”
She clings a little harder, sniffling again, and the stab I expected earlier finally reaches me. There’s no drug more addictive than the feeling of Mia needing you, and even though I’m clean now, even though I know this isn’t real, just a sentimental reaction to this moment, I still feel the hit. I know I’m gonna miss her, even if I’m happier without her. I know she’ll think of me sometimes when she looks at Dom, even if she happily raises him with Mateo.
Some people get clean breaks, but we never could have; we’re too messy.
I wish we’d spent our time together better. I wish I’d been less of an asshole. I wish Mateo had left us alone. I wish we had more good memories instead of so many bad ones. More milkshakes and movies, less resentment and fighting. I loved her so fucking much, and I don’t know if I ever showed her. She told me last year she thought I’d died thinking she didn’t love me, and this is the first time I’ve ever understood what that probably felt like.
The longer I hold her, the less focused I am on how everything happened for a reason and the more tempted I am to sink into regret. The past that I thought would be the death of me threatens to suck me back in.
I hate to, but I let go of Mia, moving my hands to her shoulders so I can pull her back. For someone so small and loving, she sure has a black hole of utter destruction inside of her. I always make the mistake of thinking I can bask in her love, but it destroys me every time.
I guess it’s good Mateo’s capable of harnessing her since she can’t harness it herself. Not that he’s someone who should be responsible for more power. He could use Mia to destroy people, if he really wanted to.
I resist the urge to care about this shit. I pull back and take a breath while Mia brushes away tears.
“Well, shit.”
I smirk. “Pretty much.”
“Every time you hug me I fall to pieces,” she states, smiling faintly. “I don’t think we’re allowed to hug anymore.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules anyway.”
Mia turns back to the counter, bracing her weight on the edge. “I should finish these dishes.”
“Or you could let the maids do it, but sure, whatever.”
She grabs the sponge again like she’s going to ignore my practical advice and wash dishes anyway. It reminds me of when we lived together. It makes me think of another version of life, a life where things had been done differently in some way or other. A life where I stood in the kitchen with her while she cleaned up after dinner, but it wasn’t in this mansion and our son wasn’t in the other room, probably being looked after by a nanny. This isn’t a stolen moment. This life is ours. I played smarter. I beat Mateo. I got Mia. We’re raising our son together. We’ll spend this and every Easter together because we’re a family.
Fuck.
Since she can’t read my thoughts, Mia is not on this track. She’s in the present. So I know she means no harm when she suddenly drops the sponge and spins around, leaning back against the counter and says, “Since we’re breaking the rules tonight, you want to break one more?”
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, tentatively.
“Well… Dom doesn’t have to go to bed for a couple more hours and Mateo and Adrian have some work to do. If you wanted to, we could probably take him to the playroom for a little bit before he has to go to sleep. Totally up to you.”
God, that is tempting.
On one hand, I only have a few days to see my son—ever. I should take advantage of every second that I can see him while I’m here.
On the other, I’m already struggling and I’ve been in this kitchen with her for not quite five minutes. It’s hard to hate her and it’s hard not to. Being around Mia is just hard.
“I really, really wish I could do that, but I need to… I just, I need a breather tonight. I have a relationship I’m trying not to fuck up, and…”
Mia nods quickly. “Oh, sure. Yeah, I get it. Sorry, I was just trying—”
“No, I know. It’s not you, it’s… I mean, it is, but it’s not your fault. I need to leave you to do your dishes or whatever.”
Mia nods again, with less enthusiasm. “Sorry.”
“But hey, if you still feel like breaking some rules tomorrow, count me in.”
She smiles. “Okay. I’ll let you know.”
I flee the kitchen for the safety of the Mia-free dining room. Carly is leaning against the table, playing on her phone while she waits for me. Seeing her feels like seeing a beacon of light, like I’m a ship caught up in a storm, feeling lost for a moment, like I’ll never find home—and then I see her, and I can see again. The path to safety is clear, and it’s giving me my favorite sultry little smile.
“All done?” she asks, pushing off the table.
I nod, but I don’t stop until I have my arms around her waist. I pull her close and kiss her. She’s faintly surprised, but she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back.
“Uh oh, is this the shampoo situation all over again?” she asks, lightly.
I roll my eyes. “No. I’m just happy to see you.”
“Mm hmm.” She doesn’t seem to believe me, but she reaches down and takes my hand anyway. “I think we should go out on the town. I think a break away from Morelli manor would do you some good.”
“Agreed.”
Carly nods and pulls her phone back out. Since we don’t have a car here, we have to call for one. “So, what did you two talk about? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I just felt like I needed to apologize to her.”
Carly shoots me a smile. “I’m so proud of you.”
---
Carly is hitting the vodka and cranberry hard tonight.
I might have noticed earlier, but I am similarly attacking the whiskey like I’ll get a prize if I finish the bottle myself.
“Alcohol is the fucking best,” Carly informs me, dipping down with a giggle to retrieve her glass and tip it back.
“It really is,” I agree, staring at the amber liquid like it’s my soul mate. “I swear to God, I wouldn’t have survived without it. I would’ve gone on a rage bender years ago.”
“I’m glad you’re not usually an angry drunk,” she informs me. “Angry drunks are the worst.”
“I’ve been an angry drunk before, but I think I was just angry, period.”
She tips back her glass, draining the rest of it. Standing up, she pushes her boobs
up and leans over the bar. “Hey, sweetie. When you get a minute, I’m gonna need another.”
I grin stupidly. “Sweetie? You call people sweetie?”
“Drunk Carly calls men sweetie. Drunk Carly usually doesn’t pay for her own drinks either, but whatever.”
“You don’t have to buy your drinks. I’ll buy your drinks. I’ve got a stupid fucking inheritance coming.”
“I know. I sort of hate that. Is that weird?”
“Probably. Why do you hate it?”
The bartender comes over to bring Carly her drink, and she orders me one while he’s over here. Then she sits back down and turns her attention back to me. “Because money makes everything fucking complicated. If you like a guy who’s dead broke, no one questions you. But if you like a guy who comes with money, you’re a gold-digging floozy. Even if his money has nothing to do with it, even if you’d like him regardless, once money is involved, it’s automatically about money—even if it isn’t.”
I crack a smile. “You liked me when you thought I was a terrible burglar who couldn’t afford to heat his apartment. And you better more than like me,” I tell her, grabbing her wrist and yanking her into my lap. She twists until she’s straddling me, leaning her forehead against mine.
“I have so many regrets,” she murmurs.
“You can’t have regrets,” I tell her, keeping her close. “You’re the one who says everything happens for a reason.”
“Sober Carly says that. Drunk Carly has regrets,” she announces.
“What are your regrets?”
“Can’t tell you,” she mutters, reaching back for her drink and taking a sip. She manages to put it back down without spilling any, then she turns her attention back to me, wiggling her hips and grinding against me. “We could do more fun things than talk.”
My hands slide down to cup her ass, pulling her against me. “We could. Probably not right here in front of all these people, though.”
“Let’s get drunk. Or, wait, we’re already drunk. Let’s finish our alcohol and get a hotel room. Let’s not go back to that house tonight. We can go back tomorrow.”
