by Sam Mariano
He wasn’t braced for it, so it takes him a few seconds to wrap his arms around me and return the hug. “You, too.”
I pull back, grinning at him. “How are you? I didn’t know you were back in Chicago.”
He still looks a little staggered from the hug. I guess he didn’t expect such a warm greeting. I hope it was welcome. I wasn’t exactly good to him back in the day, and his last memory of me is frankly awful. Maybe he doesn’t want to be touched by me.
I watch his face for signs, but he doesn’t look like someone who’s grossed out by my touch. There’s a hint of warmth in those familiar brown eyes, a note of moody charm that makes me want to hug him again for even longer.
I have enough sense not to, but for a moment, nostalgia hits me and I’m tempted.
“Yeah, just got home,” he says, nodding. His gaze wanders over my body, and even though I just did the same to him a moment earlier, a wave of caution moves down my spine. Mateo wouldn’t like this. He doesn’t really let me around men outside of his employ at all, but he definitely wouldn’t approve of me hugging and catching up with Vince all alone. I should text him right now and tell on myself.
Then there’s Vince himself. Old instincts kick in and remind me I probably shouldn’t be touchy feely with him. I still remember the last horrible, heartbreaking time I hugged Vince, and to be honest, he doesn’t take a whole hell of a lot of encouragement to latch on.
That’s absurd, though. I immediately feel foolish for even letting that thought cross my mind. It’s been four years and he looks like this now—he’s not sitting at home alone with ice cream, crying over my picture. Clearly he’s moved on, and we’re both in a place now where he can see me and say hi and that’s all.
Hearing him refer to it as home feels bittersweet. Since Mateo hasn’t mentioned Vince to me in literally years, I’m assuming he doesn’t know Vince is back. That’s also a little puzzling, since I assumed by the dossier and cell phone with Vince’s number back in the dark days that Mateo was keeping an eye on him. Maybe once he realized Vince had moved on, he stopped.
“Have you been home home yet?” I hesitate. “Does Mateo know you’re back in town?”
I watch his face for some familiar sign of irritation at the mention of his name, but his handsome face remains calm. “Not yet.”
“You should come to family dinner tomorrow. Or tonight, even—I’m about to head home now, you could follow me. Might be better if you come with an escort, actually,” I remark, grimacing faintly.
Vince smirks, nodding his head. “That would probably be safer than showing up alone.”
“Definitely.” I nod, pleased with my plan. Impulsively, I close the distance and give him one more hug (mostly because once we’re at home in front of Mateo, I won’t want to touch him). He’s not surprised this time, so his strong arms lock around my waist and he gives me a tight hug back. “I’m so happy to see you, Vince. I’m so glad we can do this now.”
“Me too,” he murmurs, still holding on.
I pull back and he lets go. I flash him a smile and take a couple steps toward my car, but he calls out, so I stop.
“Hey, Mia.”
I turn back. “Yeah?”
“We have a little time before dinner.” He nods his head toward his car, parked next to mine. “Why don’t you let me buy you a birthday drink first, so we can catch up without an audience?”
“Oh. Uh…” I grab my phone, checking the time. I didn’t tell anyone I would be making any stops after work, so I probably shouldn’t. But I’d really like to know what he’s up to, and he may be less forthcoming in front of Mateo. I felt so horrible when everything happened, and it would be nice to hear he’s doing well. “Sure, I guess I have time for one drink.”
“You don’t have any kids waiting on you at home now, do you?”
He asks it lightly enough, but all things considered, this still feels like a sore subject. “No, none for me,” I tell him, flicking a glance at his face, looking for any hint of bitterness or resentment. Finding none, I tentatively add, “Meg has the babies.”
“More babies?”
I smile fondly and nod my head. “The last one was a little girl, Rosalie. She’s so adorable; you won’t be able to stand it. If she’s not in bed already you’ll have to meet her after dinner. She’s a bossy little mini-Meg, but it’s much cuter in toddler form. She’ll probably force feed you plastic food—she loves to play maid—or make you drink lots of pretend tea. Tea parties are her jam. She already loves forcing grown men to squeeze into her townhouse and drink imaginary liquid from tiny little pink tea cups. All the other Morelli men have had to endure it; it’s your turn. Meg’s pregnant again, finally with a boy this time. Everyone’s very excited.”
Nodding, he says, “Mateo finally gets his heir.”
I nod, unsure where to take this conversation. History tells me he won’t want to talk about Mateo, so I walk around to the passenger side and climb in, hoping things remain friendly.
He drops into the driver’s seat, casting a questioning look at the cupcakes. “Didn’t get enough of them at work?”
“Oh.” I lean down and put the box in the floor by my feet. “They’re for Meg. It’s cool enough out though, I’m sure they’ll be fine while we grab a drink.”
“Baby cravings? I remember she had a thing for gummy worms last time.”
I grin at the memory. “Yeah, apparently Morelli babies make you crave all the sweets.”
“That’s ironic,” he states.
It really, really is.
Absently placing a hand on his thigh like old times, I ask, “So, how are you? Where are you living now? You’re doing well?”
His gaze lingers on my hand long enough that I feel I should move it. I don’t want to be obvious, so I draw it back and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
Finally he glances up at me, nodding. “Yeah, I’m doing well.”
I give him a genuine smile. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.”
He nods, then he says, “So, you’re still with him, huh?”
My heart stalls, the way he asks. Like it still matters. Like he still cares. Like maybe, just maybe, it still stings.
I’m done with lies though, and there’d be no point. I’m too old for this shit. Instead of trying to break it gently, I do the kindest thing I can do—tell him unapologetically, “Yes, I’m still with Mateo. We’re very happy.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment. He nods his head in acknowledgement, then after several seconds, he finally says, “I should’ve danced with you at the wedding.”
I really don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to dredge up the past; I just want to hear about the present. Discomfited by this turn of the conversation, I assure him, “It’s fine. It didn’t matter.”
“It did. I wasted so much energy trying to punish you for your feelings for him, and all I did was screw myself. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”
“Vince,” I say, feeling worse with every word out of his mouth. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. I was the problem. You treated me like gold. You tried to protect me.”
“I chased you away,” he states. Putting the car in gear, he backs out of the parking spot next to mine and heads for the road. “Do you know who I was most jealous of that night?”
I’m already sighing with dread, because of course I can guess.
He shakes his head, anticipating that. “It wasn’t Mateo. It was Mark. He did what I should’ve done. He saw that Mateo made you sad, and instead of being resentful, he took it upon himself to make you happy again. And it worked. And I should’ve been the one to do that.”
“It wasn’t…” I shake my head, searching for the right explanation. I didn’t think we’d ever be having this conversation. I’ve imagined it before, imagined seeing him again, but I always hoped we would never have to discuss this. I had hoped we would both be so far past it, so content in our new lives, that the past wouldn’t e
ven warrant mentioning. “It wouldn’t have made a difference. I was young and he had this hold on me. You didn’t chase me away, he just pulled me in. It was my fault. I was in the wrong. All you ever did was try to hold onto me. That’s it. I was an asshole and you loved me anyway.” I shake my head, feeling a touch sad. “Please don’t apologize for that.”
He glances over at me, a hint of that sexy little smirk easing my sadness. “Okay, then I rescind my apology.”
I feel a swell of tenderness for him, so I’m tempted to touch his thigh again, but I don’t. I’m pretty accustomed to being openly affectionate these days, but he doesn’t know that and I don’t want to mix signals. I’ve put this poor guy through enough for one lifetime.
“What about you?” I ask, keeping my hands to myself. “Any special lady in your life?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“No Morelli babies for either of us.”
He watches out the windshield as he drives, a little pensive. “No. I’m coming around to it, though.”
“Oh yeah?” I don’t know why that pleases me. Obviously I’ve drank the Morelli Kool-Aid, because life without babies just doesn’t seem complete to me. “Good. I hope you find a great girl who isn’t like me and she gives you all the Morelli babies you want.”
He shakes his head, smiling a little, but I don’t think he takes offense. That makes me feel a lot better. “You weren’t so bad,” he tells me, kindly.
I laugh shortly. “I was horrible.”
He holds up a thumb and forefinger to indicate just a little bit. I lightly smack him on the arm as if offended, and he flashes me a smile that, for just a moment, makes me feel 18 again.
Chapter Five
Mia
“Is it hard?”
Vince is hunched quite sexily at the bar, looking down at his drink glass. Now he turns his head to look at me, since I’ve asked a question.
“Is what hard?” he questions.
“Living in the real world—not having the trappings of Morelli life? It’s been a while, but I’ve always imagined it would be really hard to give all that up now that I’m used to it. You were born to it, so it must’ve been quite an adjustment.”
His head bobs slightly, almost noncommittally. “It wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be,” he supplies. “I always thought about the freedoms, never the limitations. Grass is always greener on the other side, after all.”
I roll my eyes, nodding in agreement as I take a drink of my martini. “Totally.”
“It was little things in the beginning. Like, did you know you’re not actually allowed to have alcohol until you’re 21?”
I bust up laughing. It’s not that funny, but the alcohol is already moving through my veins, and I’m in a good mood because he’s not heavy, needy, jealous Vince tonight, he’s light, fun, charming, attractive Vince. It doesn’t matter, I’m obviously happily on the inside of a relationship with his least favorite person in the world, but there are worse things than spending an hour drinking with a sexy ex. Especially when he’s being nice to you, even though you don’t completely deserve it.
He smiles like he enjoys making me laugh, even if I am already a little tipsy. “So, yeah, that was a surprise for a while. I went from being treated like an adult all the time to suddenly being treated like an actual adolescent.”
“Go figure.”
“Jerks,” he agrees.
“What about on the lady front?” I ask, brave because of the alcohol. Gesturing up and down his body, I add, “You’ve obviously got all of this going on, but you can’t really Morelli trap girls if you’re not living the Morelli lifestyle anymore.”
“Right?” He widens his eyes slightly, as if surprised. “It turns out stalking is frowned upon in the outside world.”
I shake my head with mock solemnity. “That’s my fault. I should’ve given you a heads-up.”
“You completely fucked up my expectations of women,” he informs me.
Laughing a little, I ask, “Did you really stalk someone?”
“Barely. She overreacted.”
I burst into laughter again. “Oh, man. I want that story.”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Maybe someday.”
I take another drink of my martini. “Are you staying in town long? You should stay at the mansion. Your old room is untouched, and since we’d be under the watchful eye of the cameras, we could probably hang out. Mateo doesn’t let me have male friends anymore.”
“That’s because he’s not an idiot,” he remarks dryly.
“Adrian tries to be my friend sometimes, but Elise won’t let him.”
Now he grins. “That’s because she’s not an idiot.”
“Well, you’re not afraid of Mateo; you can stay at the mansion while you’re in town and I can get my Vince fix.”
Shaking his head, he smiles faintly and looks down at his drink. “As much as I’d love to be your temporary plaything, I’m pretty sure I’m not welcome at the mansion anymore.”
“Not plaything, playmate. I think it would be okay,” I say, though recalling Mateo and Meg being a little bitchy to each other this morning, I wonder what kind of mood he’ll be in. Of course, Mateo’s spending the night in my bed tonight, so I can make sure to go the extra mile and put him in a good mood. Since Vince is coming to dinner and we’re getting along so well, Mateo will probably be in the mood to remind me who I belong to. Anticipation and arousal swirl within me briefly at the thought.
Mm, I miss him.
Drawing my cell phone out of my purse, I open up my messages and send him an emoji heart. Nothing more, just a little heart.
“What are you doing?” Vince asks.
“I think I’m drunk already.”
He snatches my phone, frowning at the display. I already closed the app, but he opens it back up to see what I sent and now I’m frowning, suddenly remembering what it was like with him. I’m lulled by the casual, lighthearted fun here at the bar, but the reality of us sucked. It wasn’t like this at all, it was bitter, strained, and shot full of holes by the man I just drunk-texted a silly heart to.
Vince puts my phone face-down on the counter, glancing at his glass again. He takes a sip, and I realize it’s the first one he’s taken in a while. I am putting a significantly bigger dent in my drink than he is, and that’s not how this used to work. Of course, he did drive, and he probably isn’t used to drinking as much now that he doesn’t have family dinners at the mansion.
“How does that all work?” He doesn’t sound angry, but the lightheartedness we had just a moment ago is no longer present in his tone.
“My relationship?” He nods. I’m not sure I want to tell him about this, because I’m trained not to mention Mateo unless I want to piss him off, but I remind myself it isn’t like that now. “It’s usually easier than you might think. In some ways it’s harder. It’s really just like any relationship—there are easy patches and hard patches. And because our relationship extends to three people and not just two, it shifts. Sometimes things have been really hard between me and Mateo, but they were okay with him and Meg, and okay with me and Meg. Other times, like right now, things are great with me and Mateo, but then that makes things a little harder on me and Meg. I mean, it wouldn’t, if we did everything right all the time, but no one does everything right all the time. Sometimes I hog him. He always lets me. And it’s not really fair to Meg. That’s why I brought her some cupcakes today.”
“Do you think cupcakes would suffice? She seems pretty mad at you.”
I shrug, grabbing my drink and bringing it to my lips. This martini is strong. I blink a few times, trying to focus. “Um, no, probably not, but it’s worth a shot, right? It’s always weird for me when they get back from a couples weekend, too. I miss him, even though it’s only a couple days, and I don’t love thinking about them together in some tropical paradise. He tends toward the tropical paradises. And I still hear from him, so I assume she still hears from him when he’s with me, but
I don’t know, he usually keeps that stuff kind of separate for me. He knows I have a jealous nature.”
Nodding, eyebrows rising, he says, “Yeah, I’m honestly surprised you can make that work. You were way more possessive with me.”
“I know. Even at the end it made me angry to think of you with anyone else. I don’t know why it works with him, but it does.”
“Does it still make you angry to think of me with someone else?” He only sounds vaguely curious, so I’m not alarmed.
“No, not really. I mean, it’s a little weird, I guess. But I really want you to be happy, and I don’t think you’d be happy alone all your life. You crave love too much for that. I want you to have that. I’m sure I’d dislike your girlfriend if I ever met her, because old habits die hard and that’s just who I am, but I still want you to have it. I’m happy in my relationship. It would be super shitty if I only wanted us to be happy and not you.”
He doesn’t seem offended by this, but to be honest, I’m starting to get so loopy I can’t be bothered to watch him for reactions. I don’t want to hurt his feelings or trigger anything, but man, it’s no fun walking on eggshells. And he’s being surprisingly easy-going about all this; maybe he’s just grown up.
After a minute, he asks, “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if he would’ve let you go with me?”
“No,” I say honestly, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t. He never would have. He needs me. He loves me. I’m not his pawn anymore, Vince. You only knew what it was like before—your last memory of us was…” I scowl, remembering exactly what it was. “Oh, God, that was awful. That was a nightmare. And he was so mean to me that night.”
“Yeah, he was,” he murmurs, lowly. “I felt so guilty leaving you after that. I thought he was going to chew you up and spit you out. His true colors came out and… you didn’t even kiss him back when he kissed you.”
“Well, he was being mean.” Understatement of the century, but I don’t enjoy thinking about all that. Flicking my gaze up to meet Vince’s, I tell him seriously, “I was so happy you weren’t dead. He let me believe he killed you at first, and it was so horrible. It was the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced. I was in hell. I wouldn’t forgive him. It was so bad. We were all miserable.”
