by Sam Mariano
I’m not successful at getting Mateo to stay in our room that night. Or the next night. Or the next night. And frankly, I’m getting worried. Because they are not sleeping. When Mia gets home from school on Wednesday, she goes straight to bed. She sleeps through dinner.
Mateo doesn’t get to nap though, he has to work. I decide I’m going to use every ounce of my power to keep him in our room tonight. Not for sex (I would like sex, but it’s not the end goal) but the man needs some rest.
That’s the plan.
Then Mia finally wakes up and comes downstairs. And she’s crying. Like, openly crying, unashamedly crying. I am more horrified than Mateo, because I am not good with crying people. I could offer her a hug, but I don’t know what’s wrong.
Mateo is alarmed. He goes right to her, grabbing her shoulders and looking at her face as he demands to know what the hell’s wrong with her.
“I’m not pregnant,” she sobs.
I had no idea there was a possible pregnancy on the table, so this sure throws me.
Mateo sighs, pulling her into his arms, and she actually goes. She doesn’t fight him. She throws her arms around him and buries her face in his chest, sobbing.
I desperately want to stealth-walk out of the room and get out of this moment, but I’m not slick enough, so I stay put and twiddle my thumbs.
Eventually she stops crying, but it takes a really long time. I attribute this to PMS since she clearly just started her period. I also assume my chances of getting him in my bed tonight just dramatically increased, though with all the crying, maybe not.
“You’re tired,” Mateo murmurs as he rubs her back. Her exhausted state is clearly his fault, since he hasn’t let her sleep in literally days. “Why don’t you go back up to bed?”
“Give me my phone back,” she demands sullenly.
“Goddammit, Mia.”
She sniffles, giving him a big, blue-eyed, sad-faced puppy dog pout. She’s ridiculously pretty when she cries. I’m starting to see why he’s mean to her. I’m not even into girls and that would definitely work on me.
“You don’t need to make yourself sad,” he states, irritated by this request for some reason.
“I’m going to cry forever if you don’t give me my phone back.”
I have to cover my mouth so no one sees me smiling despite her tears, because this sounds like something Lily would say during a tantrum. But the girl has had a rough… fortnight? Do people still say fortnight? I don’t think so, but they should, and she’s had a really rough fortnight. Plus she’s PMSing, not sleeping, and apparently she’s not pregnant. I need the story there, but I’ll give her this one.
And so will he, apparently, because he heads to his study and comes back with her phone.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, then goes back upstairs alone.
Mateo sighs, rolling his shoulders as he sits back down with me.
“So… did we know Mia might be pregnant?”
“Vince didn’t use a condom the last time he fucked her,” he states, by way of explanation.
“Oh, okay. That makes much more sense. For a minute there…” I stop, nodding. “Okay, good. I thought Vince didn’t want kids?”
“He didn’t.”
He doesn’t explain, and I guess I don’t really need the details of Vince and Mia’s sex life, but that makes a little more sense why she’s so upset. Obviously now there is no longer a chance for her to have Vince’s baby, and even though I can’t imagine Mateo would’ve been excited about it, I guess she wanted to.
“Did you—Were you cool with that?” I ask, frowning.
“I didn’t have much control over it, now, did I?” he asks.
“I just figured your evolutionary, caveman side would’ve been super pissed.”
“Now we’ll never have to know,” he says, dismissing the subject. “I’m going to have to go to her room tonight or she’ll spend all goddamn night looking at his pictures.”
“You need sleep,” I tell him, firmly.
“There will be plenty of sleep,” he informs me. “I just have to monitor her phone time.”
“It’s like we have another child,” I tell him.
Grimacing at me like I’m the devil, he says, “Jesus Christ, don’t say shit like that.”
“The ‘daddy’ thing doesn’t do it for you, huh?” I ask, grinning.
He’s openly glaring at me now. “I’m going to put your ass back in the dungeon.”
I can’t help laughing. I don’t think he’s serious, at least. He does flee my company though, to tie up his loose ends for the night and run to Mia’s room. I’m not super thrilled that I can’t even tear him away from the girl when she’s clearly not going to fuck him, but hey, whatever.
---
Friday night Mateo takes us out.
He does it right, too. There are new garment bags and shoes waiting for us in our respective bedrooms, and since I’m eager for some rested-Mia time, I haul my stuff to her wing to get ready with her.
“Have you ever been to a musical before?” I ask her, one eye closed as I brush some mascara on my lashes.
“Nope. Especially not with my sister wife and our shared lover,” she states, dropping an eye shadow brush on the counter.
“We’re just trying all the new things,” I say. “I went once. I saw Wicked with Rodney. It was basically the nicest thing he ever did with me. I don’t think he enjoyed it, but I did.”
“I’m sure you did things you didn’t enjoy for him all the time.”
“Yep,” I agree, nodding. I stop myself just in the nick of time, because I almost asked if she and Vince ever did stuff like that. Nope. Not today, mouth. “Your dress is so pretty,” I tell her, stealing a glance over at her before I grab my lipstick. He got her a sexy, nearly see-through black lace dress with almost no back. She’s really rocking it, too.
“Mateo’s good with the gifts,” she points out.
“Really good with the gifts. I don’t know why he’s not hitting you with way more gifts. I would advise this if he ever talked strategy with me, but he’s too far up your ass. I’ve got all this good advice for luring you in, and it’s just going to waste. Our bedroom is so empty you can basically hear an echo.”
Grimacing faintly, she glances over at me. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hog him, it’s just he won’t leave. I’ve told him to. But then when he does, it makes me sad. I can’t win for losing.”
“You ever consider… maybe forgiving him?”
Her eyes widen at me like I’m a traitor, so before she can even speak, I’m talking again.
“I know it was really bad! I understand. I mean, obviously way different circumstances, but he was responsible for my husband’s death, too. And if you remember correctly, back when I told you that, you totally thought he killed Rodney to get him out of the way because he wanted me. So, logically, you knew Mateo was capable of doing that.”
“It’s different when it actually happens,” she says, frowning. “I was also mostly joking when I said that. And Rodney was a stranger. Vince was family.”
“I know. I just want us all to be happy, and we can’t be as long as you’re not. No pressure, obviously, but… you know. Happy is nice.”
Mia sighs miserably, dropping her makeup and sitting down on the edge of the giant Jacuzzi tub. “I feel like I owe it to Vince though. I can’t just forgive Mateo. I can’t.”
Now we’re gettin’ somewhere. “But do you really think Vince would want you to be unhappy?” I stop her before she can respond. “Angel Vince. Not sulky, possessive, I-hate-Mateo Vince. But assuming there’s a heaven and he’s up there walking around on Reese’s peanut butter cup paved roads with Twinkie cars and Oreo traffic signs—”
“What?” she asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“My heaven is heavily food-based, okay? The point is, Vince loved you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. Maybe even triple a lot. He would not want you to spend the rest of your life miserable for his sake. He wouldn’
t. Even if it means you being happy with Mateo. He isn’t here now, and I know that sucks and it’s shitty and Mateo is definitely going to hell for it, no Reese’s cup roads for him. But I think, since you can’t be with him, Vince would want you to be happy with someone else. He was too possessive for that in life, he would’ve never been happy for you if you just moved on and had to sit next to him at family dinner for the rest of our lives, but since that isn’t the case, right or wrong, I refuse to believe he would support this misery crusade.”
“So, if someone murdered you, you would be like, ‘hey, yeah, I know you murdered me, but go be happy with my lover, I’m totally fine with that’?” she questions, giving me a heavily skeptical look.
“Well, maybe if there were Reese’s cup roads,” I reply.
Mia shakes her head at me. “You chocolate whore.”
Chapter Twenty Five
Meg
“Is this fun?”
I glance beside me, looking up at Mateo. “Is what fun?”
He indicates the short line of people in front of us on the sidewalk, waiting to get into the theater. “You get your kicks waiting in lines, right?”
I roll my eyes, flashing him a smile. “Oh, right. Yes, I’m having a blast.”
“Elise isn’t going to be happy about this,” Adrian states, warily glancing around before looking ahead at the lobby doors.
Mia is hanging back by him, apparently deciding he is the lesser of two evils. I grin at Adrian. “Especially since it totally looks like you’re on a date with Mia,” I tell him. “Want me to take a picture and send it to her?” I ask, pulling my cell phone out. “Put your arm around Mia’s waist. I’ll write ‘wish you were here!’”
Adrian gives me the dead eye, daring me to do that.
“You girls and your damn pictures,” Mateo mutters.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so old you’d get it,” I inform him with mock-delicacy, slipping the phone back into my little handbag.
“I’m not quite 34,” he points out. “I won’t need a cane anytime soon.”
“Ancient. We’re both barely out of high school.”
“You’re far past high school,” Mateo replies, rolling his eyes.
“Well, Mia isn’t,” I point out.
“Hey, she’s Adrian’s date; take it up with him.”
“Keep it up,” Adrian says, shaking his head.
Mateo smirks, sparing me a secret wink. I grin, leaning into his side and wrapping an arm around him.
I don’t expect Mia to join in. During the car ride here she was committed to not enjoying herself, but she surprises all of us when she says, “I probably would’ve dated Adrian.”
This surprises Adrian most of all. He stares at her. “Really?”
She nods. “I mean, it wouldn’t have ended well, because Mateo, but sure.”
“She would’ve corrupted you,” Mateo states, glancing back at Adrian.
Mia scoffs. “Yeah, I’m the corruptor in this group. Definitely.”
“Huh,” Adrian murmurs.
The line finally moves. I contemplate how hard it would be to get rid of Elise and fix Adrian up with Mia. Ultimately it seems like a lot of work, and I’m not convinced Mateo would allow it, so I stick with the sister wife serenity.
Mia’s commitment to her cause wanes a bit when we get inside the theater. It’s gorgeous, and Mia’s never even been to anything like this before so she gets starry-eyed, taking in every beautiful inch of the interior. Mateo takes advantage of her momentary happiness to wrap his other arm around her waist and she doesn’t resist. Now it no longer looks like we are on a double date. Now it looks like what it is—we’re both his, and Adrian is just here to keep guard.
This all feels pretty much normal to me at home, but it’s a bit jarring now that we’re in public. Mostly people are involved with their own lives, but we still catch some odd looks. I’m just pregnant enough that I’m not drawing much attention, but Mia is a 19-year-old knockout at her physical peak and all dolled up in a skimpy, backless dress; she gets more than a few once-overs from more than a few men. She doesn’t seem to notice (which is so annoying). Mateo does, but he doesn’t care. He’s not Vince-possessive, and he probably doesn’t mind showing her off, anyway. I’m amused by the guys who watch long enough to make it past Mia’s sexiness, past Mateo with his arm curled possessively around her, and then on to pregnant little ol’ me, his other arm wrapped around me. That’s when the eyebrows jump. That’s when the confusion registers.
It’s fun. It’s really fun. We need to go freak people out in public more often.
I lean in to tell Mateo, “People-watching is fun.”
He smiles, perceptive enough to pick up on the same things I’ve been picking up on. “Isn’t it?”
“I think we should do it more often,” I tell him. “Let’s go to sporting events. I don’t like sporting events, but there are lots of men there. We can put Mia in a white tank top and short shorts and parade her around. It’ll be great.”
Mia leans forward now, hearing her name. “What?”
“Nothing, sweetie,” I reply.
Mia wrinkles her nose up at the endearment, and a man walking past bumps into Adrian in his attempt to look back at Mia’s ass. Adrian is not amused. The man turns red and starts paying attention to where he’s going. Mateo smiles and gives me a little squeeze.
Yes, the theater is fun.
The show’s pretty good, too. We’ve got good seats up front. Mateo bought out the seats around us, because Adrian hates people and Mateo likes privacy anyway. It’s a pretty full show, so we look like major assholes. We kind of are though, so it is what it is.
I steal glances over at Mia from time to time, on Mateo’s other side. Once the theater goes dark and the show starts, Mateo takes her hand. She lets him. So he starts running his fingers over the sensitive skin on her wrist. Judging by the rise and fall of her chest, he’s turning her on. I take this to mean he is not coming to our bedroom tonight.
When the show lets out, Mia and I are both pretty pumped. She rattles on about her favorite parts, and I share in her excitement. The men don’t join us for this conversation, they just let us tire ourselves out as we walk back to the car.
Impulsively, since we’re walking ahead of them, I grab Mia’s hand. She seems surprised for a split second, then shrugs and starts swinging it.
“We should go out on the town more often,” she tells me.
“Just wait until we’re in Paris,” I tell her. “We’re gonna have to take someone to stay at the hotel with the kids in the evenings so we can all go out at night.”
“Paris, huh?” she asks, reluctantly pulled in.
I nod, grinning over at her. “It’ll be great. We can go shopping during the day and stop at cute little cafes. Go to the Louvre and the opera house. Have a picnic with the girls—they can blow bubbles in front of the freaking Eiffel Tower. Get pumped for this.”
“That does sound pretty great,” she admits.
I nod, still swinging her hand. “Mateo’s been there before with Beth, so I’m sure he knows some good stuff to do. And then when our little ones are all tucked away in bed, we can go out with Mateo. I’m pretty sure the French will be more open-minded about our whole thing we’ve got going on here, but I’m not going to Paris to people watch, so who even cares?”
Mia sighs, but this time it’s not with pleasure.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly, leaning in.
“That just sounds really nice.” She says it sadly, like someone who wishes they could go, instead of someone who will definitely be going.
I give her hand a supportive squeeze. “It will be nice. Let it happen.”
“I can’t,” she says, quietly. “It’s not fair.”
I sigh, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and giving her a little hug as we walk. I guess I’ll have to give her a little more time.
“Hey, why don’t we get food?” I ask, changing the subject. Releasing Mia, I slow down so
the guys can catch up. “Are you guys hungry? Baby Morelli and I are starving.”
“I could eat,” Mia agrees.
“All right,” Mateo says, as Adrian pulls out his phone. “Where do you want to go?”
Mia grins at me. “Chipotle.”
“Yes,” I agree, vehemently. “We’re going to Chipotle.”
“The taco place?” Mateo asks, unimpressed.
“And burritos. You’ve never been?”
Rolling his eyes, he says, “Shockingly enough, I have not.”
“You’re such a snob,” Mia shoots back over her shoulder.
“You’re gonna love it,” I tell him. “You get to watch them make your food. It never leaves your sight. This is going to be right up your alley.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, but it doesn’t matter. We’re taking Mateo Morelli to Chipotle for the first time, whether he likes it or not.
---
Apparently my date night plan really pleased Mateo, because tonight, even after his trophy girlfriend parade, Mateo is back in our bed. I’ve never enjoyed the sight of him undressing for bed so much in all our time together as I do now.
“What?” he asks, since I’m watching him with a semi-goofy grin on my face.
“You’re so sexy,” I tell him.
He smirks at me as he climbs in beside me. “Am I now?”
I roll my eyes. “You know you are. You wouldn’t get away with half the shit you get away with if you weren’t.”
“I think I’d still get away with half,” he disagrees. “Maybe three quarters.”
“You think that because you have the confidence of a sexy man,” I inform him.
He doesn’t dislike having his ego stroked, but since he doesn’t need it, he wraps an arm around me and changes the subject. “Tonight was a good idea. I’m glad you suggested it.”
“I have lots of good ideas,” I inform him. “I’m a regular chick magnet. Also, you know, Mia’s my best friend, so I do have a little bit of insight into her. If you ever came to bed, maybe I could share some of it.”
“I’m sure you’re dying to talk about Mia in bed,” he says lightly.
