Winter Blues
Takes place after Resisting Mateo, but a few months before Coming Home…
"Red pepper, please."
I flick a glance over at Meg. She’s standing at the stove, happily domestic as she takes the lead preparing dinner. I don’t argue because she’s a far better cook than I am. The aroma is already wafting over my way; I don’t know which spices she tossed in that pan, but I already want to dive in and eat my way out.
Now she holds a hand out to me expectantly for the next ingredient.
"I'm still chopping," I tell her. To emphasize my point, I bring my knife down over the slice of crisp red pepper on the chopping board.
"Why are you so slow?" she asks dramatically.
I pause in my chopping to raise an eyebrow at her in disbelief. "Do you remember two minutes ago when you tried to juggle them? And I was like 'you probably shouldn't do that' and you were like 'Maria isn't here to stop me.' Remember that?"
Shaking her head dismissively, she tells me, "That sounds made up. I don't think that happened. I mean, obviously I could juggle them if I wanted to, but you're clearly just making excuses for how slow you are."
I dismiss her craziness and continue chopping up the pepper. Once finished, I take them over and dump them into the pan of deliciousness. "There you go."
"Good girl." She gives me a little wink.
"Don't praise me," I complain, taking the chopping board to the sink to rinse it.
"It's only hot if Mateo does it, huh?" she teases.
"Being Mateo does help make things hot," I admit, nodding.
"Do you think Mateo could make juggling hot?" she asks conversationally.
"Probably. But he would never juggle. He's not the same kind of crazy as you."
"It’s like we’re curating all the different kinds of crazy in the world. Just between the three of us, we have a large portion of the market cornered. I wonder if the baby will be a new kind of crazy we haven't encountered yet."
Frowning in response, I turn off the faucet and glance over at her. "Rosalie isn't exactly a baby anymore. And she's unquestionably your kind of crazy. She's a mini Meg with little bursts of Mateo. Look out, Chicago."
Now Meg grimaces, looking at the food she's stirring to keep from looking at me. "Whoops."
It takes a minute to land. My mind doesn't quite wrap itself around the implication of her words.
Then it hits me. Then her words start to make sense in a different context… in the context that she is talking about a new baby. A current pregnancy.
Somehow Meg being pregnant with Mateo's baby feels like a thing of the past, a thing that happened before me. Even though he has no son and I understand logically he has to keep trying until he gets one... I don't want Meg to be pregnant again. I reject that reality.
Only it doesn't matter, because now Meg shoots me a sheepish look. "I wasn't supposed to tell you."
My stomach twists and sinks with the verification. I don’t want to make her feel bad, but it’s like I just had the wind knocked out of me. As if in search of physical evidence, my eyes run over her still-thin frame.
She keeps talking. "I mean, you were obviously going to find out. But Mateo wanted to tell you. Don’t know what he was waiting for, but… It just slipped out."
I nod a bit woodenly, all twisted up in the vines of jealousy and sadness. The faintest hint of betrayal stabs me in the gut. It's absurd and out of place; this isn't a betrayal. I was aware of Mateo's desire for a son. I was aware of—and I'm the one who insists on respecting—Meg's rule that I'm not allowed to get pregnant. I know he splits time between us, and I know he hates condoms, so this was inevitable.
But it still hurts. It still stabs me in my heart of hearts and digs a new wound right down the center.
It feels like an eternity has passed, but it's only been a minute.
"Are you okay?" Meg asks, watching me carefully.
I force myself to take a steadying breath, bracing my weight on the edge of the counter. "Yeah. Congratulations," I offer belatedly. "That's great news."
I don't sound convincing to my own ears, but she accepts it and nods, smiling. "I'm excited. This had better be a boy. I'm running dangerously into Henry and Catherine territory. Since I'm letting him have his little Anne Boleyn lovefest on the side, maybe it'll keep me in the game, but my eggs better have my back this time."
She jokes, but it's barely a joke. "I'm not on the side," I mutter.
"Oh, sure," she says, kind of dismissively. "I didn't mean it pejoratively."
I'm too sick to my stomach to even respond. Anxiety thickens in my chest and makes it difficult to draw a steady breath. Everything vaguely aches. I need air.
Since my portion of work is done anyway, I tell Meg I have to pee and flee the kitchen. I go out the front door instead.
It's a chilly, dreary day. The dim gray sky is full of dark clouds. A bitter gust of wind hits me and I rub the soft, thin fabric covering my arms. I already wish I’d have grabbed a coat.
The fountain at the center of our driveway is dry right now, shut off and drained for the freezing season. I take a seat on the edge and look down into it. In the summer I would dip my hand into the gleaming pool of water, but now it's just a dingy, empty well.
I thought someday I would take pictures of my daughter in front of this fountain. Every year on her birthday she could pose in front of it. She would ride her bike around it when she got older, first with training wheels, then without. She would grow even older and sit on this same edge with her friends while they talked about boys, since they couldn't talk in the house without Mateo potentially overhearing. As a teen, her terrified prom date would stand in front of this beautiful fountain with his hand around her waist so I could take a million pictures while Mateo stood beside me, offering him a vaguely threatening smile.
But I don't get any of that. I don’t get to have that daughter. My womb is as empty as the fountain’s stone basin.
Unlike Meg's, apparently.
I don't know where Adrian is, but suddenly I realize no matter how delicious dinner smelled, sitting at the table with Mateo and Meg will feel like Chinese water torture tonight and I'm not going to do it. It's not a Sunday; Meg and I are only doing dinner because Maria has a cold and we wanted her to have the night off. But it's not a mandatory dinner. I can leave this one.
So, I text Adrian and tell him I need a ride. I would normally go to Mateo and he would arrange a ride for me, but I don't want to see Mateo right now.
A few minutes of sitting in the cold pass while I wait for Adrian to come fetch me.
Mateo comes out the front door instead. He peels his suit jacket off as he walks toward the fountain, then drapes it around my shoulders once he gets there.
"What's wrong?" he asks, without preamble.
I pull his jacket around me a little more snugly, catching the faint scent of him on the expensive fabric. "Nothing's wrong."
"Why did you ask Adrian for a ride? Dinner's almost ready."
Since I don't want to get Meg in trouble, I lie. "I need to go to the bakery. I have to help Francesca with something. I'll just get food while I'm out."
He frowns. "The bakery closed twenty minutes ago."
"It's inventory stuff. We got behind and she needs help. I won't be long."
I don’t think he buys a word of it, but he doesn’t waste his time calling me on my bullshit. "You're distant,” he says instead.
Smiling faintly, I meet his gaze. "I'm like eight inches away."
He lightly grabs my arm to pull me up, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his hard body. "Too many inches."
I don't melt into his embrace like I usually do. I resist, not intentionally, but my body just doesn't want to be near his right now.
Now his scowl comes back with a vengeance. "What is wrong, Mia?"
"I just need to go help Francesca. Can you please give me Adrian and just leave me alone for a little bit?"
My stomach bottoms out as the words tumble from my mouth. My gaze snaps to his face and I intuitively lean into him, wanting to take the sting out my request. I reach a hand out to caress his handsome face and flash him more of a smile than I expected myself to muster.
He knows I'm full of shit, but he doesn't say so. He watches me for a moment, taking a mental inventory, then he finally goes back into the house and leaves me here by the fountain.
Several minutes later Adrian does finally emerge from the house with his keys.
I level him a look to tell him I'm not impressed. "Way to be a nark."
"Hey, you know who the boss is." He leads the way to the car and opens the door for me to climb in. Once he slides into the driver's seat, he asks, "So, where are we really going?"
"I told Mateo I needed to go to the bakery."
"You did, but I texted Francesca and she has no idea what you're talking about."
"Goddammit," I mutter.
"You're an awful liar,” he tells me.
"Whatever." I look out the window at the house. "I don't care where we go; I just needed to get out of the house for a minute. Do you have any errands you need to run?"
He fires up the engine and navigates us down the drive and onto the road. He lets me stew for a few minutes before he asks, "What level of crisis is this? Ice cream run? Shoe shopping? I already have a wife whose mind I have to read; I would appreciate not having to read Mateo's wife's, too."
"I'm not his wife," I tell him glumly, leaning my head against the side of the car and watching the trees as they pass.
My tone must effectively convey the level of and reason for my blues today. Adrian nods and sighs to himself, but he doesn't bug me anymore.
So, we drive around. I don't think we're really heading anywhere, but then he pulls into a parallel parking spot at some south loop storefront. I take in the sombrero decal on the window and the name of the place.
He brought me to a taco joint.
I smile faintly at him in the rear view mirror. He shoots me a wink and climbs out, walking around to open my door.
"Thanks," I murmur as I climb out of the car and step past him.
He shuts the car door and heads toward the restaurant to open that door for me, too. "Tacos make everything better."
---
Three tacos and two margaritas later, I am feeling much better about life.
"You know what," I tell Adrian, grabbing my giant margarita and taking a drink. "Not being pregnant is awesome. I couldn't have a margarita if he got me pregnant."
"Look at that silver lining," he says, a bit dryly. "What's the joy of parenthood compared to having a three dollar margarita with your dinner?"
"Exactly," I say with enthusiasm, like he's legit agreeing with me. "And it's not like I don't get to enjoy their babies. I adore Rosalie. And I'll adore this baby. Who cares if I never get any of my own, right? That's not such a big deal."
His eyebrows rise and fall, but he does not offer further comment on this.
I don't need him to, anyway. He just has to be an ear for me to fill up with my problems.
"Sharing is hard sometimes," I inform him, firmly planting my drink back on the tabletop.
Adrian nods. "Westley would agree with you. I can't relate, personally. I'm a grown-ass man; I don't share."
Nodding a bit dolefully, I say, "I bet that's nice. Don’t get me wrong, I'm used to sharing. I don't even mind it mostly, but this makes my heart hurt."
"Meg shouldn’t have told you.”
"It wasn’t on purpose, she just slipped up."
Adrian rolls his eyes. "Sure she did."
I glance at him, but I don't put much stock in it. The Morelli men are all suspicious of everyone's motives, and Adrian is no exception. I'm sure it benefits him to be cautious for his job, but this is... well, actually, managing us probably is sort of part of his job.
“Last time he got her pregnant, it was before we got together. For some reason I convinced myself…” I trail off, shaking my head. It sounds too stupid even in my head, so I can’t let the words out.
Adrian nods, seeming to understand.
"Do you think she'll ever change her mind?" I ask, suddenly meeting his gaze. "Do you think she'll ever let me have his baby? I thought she would have already changed her mind by now."
Appearing reluctant to weigh in on this, he eases back in his chair. "I think it's not really my business."
At that, I have to roll my eyes. "Please, everything in this family is your business."
He shrugs like he wishes he could help, but can't. "I don't understand how you guys manage this whole sharing thing to begin with. The way you feel right now, that's probably how she feels when she thinks of you having his baby. You're feeling like this because he got her pregnant and he's already done it before. Do you think Meg is going to voluntarily put herself through that for the sake of your happiness?"
No.
I droop when he frames it like that.
Meg is never going to let me have his baby. Not ever.
I suck down the rest of my drink. "I need another margarita."
Adrian is checking his phone at this point. He shakes his head. "I think you've had enough."
"Adrian, I don't get a baby; I need a margarita."
Since he can't argue with that, he sighs at me and goes up to order another.
By the time I finish that one, the ache is effectively numbed. Hanging out with Adrian is nice. We normally don't hang out by ourselves because Elise is a dragon if she thinks anyone's trying to inch up on her territory, and even though it's absurd, she trusts me least of all. I'm not allowed to have any fun friends, so if I want to play, it's really just Mateo or Adrian. Mateo isn't here, plus he's on the naughty list tonight for impregnating Meg. And Adrian bought me tacos.
So when the third margarita kicks in, I can't help lightly flirting with him. It's harmless for literally every reason, but he cuts off our night out and hauls me back to the car.
"No fair," I tell him as he opens the car door and ushers me inside.
"You've had enough to drink."
"It's never enough," I object buoyantly.
"Once you start talking about my shoulders, it's enough."
"Well, I'm sorry you have such sexy shoulders," I tell him, shrugging. "That's really your fault, not mine. Eat a doughnut once in a while. Sleep in instead of going to the gym."
He shakes his head at me and closes the door.
I grin. It's so much fun to mess with him.
My good cheer fades without a playmate though. By the time we're halfway home, I'm floating in thoughts of all the things I won't get to experience. I don't want to just borrow Meg's baby; I want my own.
"Do you think he'd hurt Meg?"
Adrian flicks a glance at me in the rear view mirror. He remains stoic so I can't tell what he's thinking. "Are you asking because you want him to, or because you don't?"
My eyes widen and I sit up a little straighter. "Because I don't, of course."
"Then how 'bout you don't bring it up to him," he suggests.
"So you think he would?"
He doesn't answer.
I watch out the window and keep quiet the rest of the way home.
Adrian and I part ways once we're in the door. He goes back to his place with Elise, the only woman he loves, so naturally the mother of his child. Longing wraps itself around my heart and I try to untangle it. Ugh.
I go to the kitchen for more wine. Meg has Mateo tonight so I'm in for a full night alone with these shitty thoughts and feelings. It's bound to get ugly. I don't pour myself a single serving; I grab a glass in one hand, a full bottle in the other, and head upstairs.
I plop down on the couch in my sitting room and start on my first glass of wine. There's a television in here, but I never really watch it. I want to sulk right now, wallow a bit, purge all my icky feelings so I can be happy for everybody tomorrow.
Only before I can finish my first glass and settle into my sulk, Mateo comes in.
I'm a bit drunk, so I grin and lean back against the couch, gazing up at him with unrestrained adoration. "Hello, there. Come back to get your jacket?"
"Oh, yes," he says dryly, pausing behind the couch to look down at me. "I was lost without it."
I smile and he walks around to take a seat beside me on my couch. "You probably were," I tell him, my eyes raking over his body. God, he's sexy. Abandoning my wine glass on the end table, I curl my legs up behind me and snuggle into his side. "How was your day?"
He secures his arm around me, pulling me closer. “It would be better if you weren’t mad at me.”
“Do I seem mad at you?”
Cocking a knowing eyebrow, he says, “You only flirt with Adrian when I’ve pissed you off.”
Sighing heavily, I run my hand across his muscular chest, toying with a button on his dress shirt as I lament, “Adrian is such a tattletale.”
“You like when he tells on you,” Mateo states, his hand moving through my hair tenderly, sending a shock of pleasure through my veins. Anticipation makes my heart beat faster. His tender caress shifts and he fists my hair in his strong hand, tugging my head back. He leans in to kiss my neck, murmuring against the tender skin, “You like when I remind you who you belong to.”
He’s not wrong. An answering shiver runs through me, arousal coiling up within as his free hand finds my waist. He tugs me into his lap, giving me a tender squeeze. I spread my legs and adjust myself so I’m straddling him. He still has his hand in my hair, but he lets me have enough leeway to lean in and kiss him. My hand drifts down his chest, sliding down between our bodies to caress him through his pants. He’s already hard and I grin against his perfect lips.
“Somebody’s happy to see me.”
He returns the smile, yanking me back by the hair and, in one smooth motion, laying me down on my back and crawling on top of me. “Always.”
He releases my hair now, his hand moving along the delicate curve of my collar bone. Then his fingers close around my neck, not tightly, but it still makes my heart beat in my throat as his other hand moves between my legs.
“Don’t move,” he tells me, as his fingers move up under my white, lace panties.
An impossible command, but as he pushes a finger inside me, I fight the urge to squirm. My breath hitches. Mateo watches me, applying a little more pressure to my throat as he pushes a second finger inside me. A helpless sound slips out of me but as difficult as it is, I keep my body still and meet his gaze. His gorgeous brown eyes watch me with such intensity as his long fingers pump in and out of my body, brushing my clit and stealing the breath right from me.
“This is my favorite place in the world,” he informs me.
My heart fills up. He’s not always the most giving man, but I needed an affirmation like that today. The thrill of hearing it boosts my arousal and I struggle to keep still as his fingers move inside me faster.
“Mateo… please…”
He shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“I need—”
“Not yet,” he repeats, eyes narrowing slightly.
My speeding heart sinks but I do my best to obey him as his fingers do their best to tempt me not to. His tender assault on my clit intensifies as he pushes me, tries to sabotage my obedience.
I should just let him. His punishments are delicious.
My best attempts are starting to fall short. His fingers pump in and out of my body, strategically brushing my clit with every withdrawal; the friction is incredible. It’s killing me to hold back my climax, to hold my body still when I want to arch off the couch and let the release sweep over me.
Abruptly, he stops.
I groan as his fingers leave my throat and he sits back.
“Take your dress off.”
I can hardly scoot back fast enough, peeling the soft, white sweater dress off my body and tossing it on the floor. Beneath, a white lace bra matches my panties. Mateo smirks, moving close and grabbing me, tugging my breasts against his mouth.
“Is this new?”
“Yes.” I gasp as his mouth closes over my barely covered flesh.
After tonguing my nipple through the fabric and sucking on my breasts until I’m ready to explode, he pulls back. He reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra, peeling the delicate fabric off me. “I approve,” he informs me, before returning to my now bare breasts to shower the other with the same attention. Before his mouth makes contact, he tells me, “I like you in white.”
It makes my heart contract. It’s not his fault, but with all that’s happened today, white has me thinking bridal. Of the wedding I’ll never get and the babies I’ll never have.
His mouth is doing good work though, so those miserable thoughts fade as quickly as they emerged. Now he pushes me back on the couch again, and his sensual lips make their way down my core. He tenderly kisses my abdomen and my mind sinks back into the darkness for a moment. In my fantasies he kisses my tummy with the same love, but it’s because our baby is growing there.
As if he can sense me trying to pull myself out of the sex haze he’s clearly trying to enshroud me in, he meets and holds my gaze as he drags the lacey panties down my smooth legs. My tummy flutters as he flings them on the floor with my dress and bra.
Now his fingers go to his shirt and he starts to unbutton. “Are my shoulders as sexy as Adrian’s?” he teases.
Bastard. He knows I love his playful side.
I bite back a smile, hungrily watching him peel his shirt off. “He is a very detailed tattler.”
“You should come to the gym one morning, really look your fill,” he continues.
Since he’s joking about it, I join in, saucily asking, “Of you, or Adrian?”
He smiles and tosses his shirt on the floor. “Who said you had to choose?”
Before I have a chance to respond, he grabs my thighs and pulls them apart. He loops one arm around my leg as he lowers himself between my legs, resting his splayed hand on my tummy. He reaches for my hand with the other, entwining his fingers with mine. My heart flutters and my tummy muscles contract as he presses his wonderful mouth against my bare pussy, not entering me yet, just nibbling.
I bring my free hand down and thread my fingers through his hair. God, I love this man.
I love his tongue, too. He finally tastes me, licking along the inside of my pussy like he’s afraid he’ll miss a drop of his favorite desert. I’m relieved by the gentle pleasure—sometimes he’s brutal in seeking my pleasure. He finds the right spots quickly, assaults the fuck out of them, and I come so hard I think I might cry. Right now he’s being gentle, taking his time, stroking and tasting me like that’s all he wants out of the experience. Like he has all night.
We don’t, though.
This isn’t my night.
We’re stealing this moment, but I’m feeling ripped off enough that I’ll take it.
Now he zeroes in and focuses on my clit. All of a sudden the blanket of gentleness is ripped out from under me as his quick, skilled strokes take the place of his tender exploration. I tug on his hair intuitively and he buries his face even deeper in my pussy.
“Oh, God, Mateo.” I let go of his hair to grab into the edge of the couch cushion, squeezing it as I arch my back. His mouth stays latched onto my pussy, his tongue working my clit. Throwing my head back, I cry out sharply, rolling my hips up. Bless him, he holds onto me as I squirm against his mouth, so even as I feel like he’s driving me crazy, the building pleasure doesn’t stop.
I’m wild with desperation now, needing the release only he can give me. “Oh, God. Mateo, please. Please.” I’m just murmuring senselessly now; he’s already giving me exactly what I need, just like he always does.
“Oh, oh, oh... Oh God, Mateo,” I cry out, squeezing his hand and throwing my head back against the couch as my orgasm rips through me.
He lets up so I don’t die, then he kisses me right on the pussy before traveling up my body, leaving kisses along my belly and breasts. He worships my body with his lips, and I’m so sated and full of affection I could melt.
When he comes down on top of me on the couch and kisses me hard on the mouth, I wind my arms around his neck and hold him close, gazing up into his eyes.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he tells me.
“Your mouth is maybe my favorite part of your body,” I admit.
Chuckling, he drops a kiss on my forehead and says, “I’ll have to tell my cock; it’s going to be offended.”
“Hey, I love your cock, too. I have plenty of love for every piece of you,” I assure him, shooting him a slightly mischievous smile.
“Uh huh.” He drops a few casually tender kisses along my neck. “We’ll see how you feel about my cock when I’m pounding it inside you later.”
“Ooh,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “That’s tempting, but I don’t get you tonight, remember?”
“You do now,” he says simply.
My eyes open. “I do?”
He nods and his hand moves back between my legs, cupping me. “I’m going to hold you down and use this sweet pussy until I come inside you.” He punctuates this promise with a kiss in the crook of my neck. “I’ll fuck you hard, just the way you like.” Another kiss, a little higher on my neck. “I’m going to make you come all night long, Mia.”
My pussy throbs and my heart speeds up with excitement. “I thought my night was supposed to be tomorrow. Are we switching?”
“Nope.” His hand moves up to caress my hip, then skates lightly across my tummy. “I’m spending tonight and tomorrow with you. I’ll probably stay for the rest of the week.”
Well, that doesn’t happen very often. “Not that I’m complaining, but why?”
I figure Adrian must have told him. Now he sighs and takes my hand again, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles. “Because I want to.” His gaze meets mine more attentively as he adds, “And Meg knows she’s supposed to play nice. She didn’t.”
Stripping her of nights as punishment probably won’t make her nicer, but I don’t say that. He’s smarter than I am by leaps and bounds, so I’m sure he knows that; he just doesn’t care.
It bothers me that this is even real, let alone something he has to tell me, so I lower my gaze. He can penetrate my soul without looking into my eyes, but I feel like that makes it easier.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you myself,” he finally says.
It still makes my stomach ache. I shift, trying to get out from under his weight. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He eases back on the couch, letting me get up. “Are you mad?” he asks, sounding somewhat surprised.
“Of course not.” I bend to retrieve my bra and panties, draping the dress over my arm. “I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick,” I tell him, still without looking at him.
“Nope.” He catches my wrist when I go to walk past him. I look back with a sigh, but I can tell by the look on his face I’m not winning this one.
“I really don’t want to talk about it, Mateo. Can’t we just…?”
Shaking his head, he tugs me closer until he can pull me into his lap. “This can’t be glossed over. If you’re upset that I’m having another child, I need to understand why so I can fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” I say, simply. “I’m not upset that you’re…” I stall, not even wanting to utter the words. “I’ll be fine. Nothing to fix. Nothing to worry about. I need to pee.”
“Mia.” He fixes me with a firm look, his eyes reminding me so his voice doesn’t have to that he doesn’t appreciate having to repeat himself.
Sighing heavily, I sink against him. “It’s just weird.”
“Why is it weird?” he asks, patiently.
I can really only stare at him. How does he not get how this is weird?
His dark eyebrows rise as he awaits an explanation.
“Because I love you and I want to be the one having your babies?” I suggest. “Because you spend more time with me than you spend with Meg, but she’s the only one who gets to share that stuff with you? It’s not fair. I’m just as capable of that kind of stuff as she is, but I don’t get any of it and sometimes, like when I’ve had a few margaritas and discovered that you’ve expanded your family and didn’t even tell me, it bothers me.”
“That’s not true,” he says, mildly. “I don’t leave you out. We do things together with Isabella all the time. Rosalie asks for you nearly as much as she asks for Meg. Has Meg been excluding you?”
“No. But… it’s not the same. I love Bella, you know that, but I missed the first six years. And I love Rosalie, but she already has a mother.” I hesitate on that note, watching his eyes for anything calculating. Adrian’s words in the car come back, so I add a little more to that. “And of course I’m glad she has Meg, and I love Meg, and I love our whole family. I just got really jealous when I found out. Last time she got pregnant, you and I weren’t together so it wasn’t weird. This time it was weird.”
He seems to consider my words for a moment, glancing beyond me instead of at me. He’s a little cold, but I’m not worried; he always is when he’s working through a problem. Finally, he warms up a bit and turns his gaze on me. “See, we’re coming at this from completely different angles. I think this is a good thing for us.”
I blink. “For us?”
Nodding once, he clarifies, “You and me.”
I blink again. “You think it’s a good thing for us—you and me—that you got someone else pregnant.”
He is completely sure of himself as he says, “Yep. Remember when Meg had Rosalie? Two full months of having me all to yourself. Didn’t you like that?”
“Well, yes, I liked that a lot,” I admit.
He dips his head in to leave a little kiss on the ball of my shoulder. “So did I. We’ll get that again. Meg will be tired and Rosalie is a hand full already, so you’ll still have a baby to coddle. Hopefully it’s a son this time, then I won’t have to do this again.”
Instead of making me feel better, that makes me feel worse. “But that’s just it—you had all your kids with everybody else! I wanted one.”
“And you’ll get one,” he assures me. “I told you, if you want a baby, I’ll give you a baby. I’ll give you one tonight if that’s what you need from me—you’re the one who wants to wait for Meg’s permission.”
“I do, but I don’t think she’s ever going to give it,” I state.
“It doesn’t matter,” he assures me. “We don’t need her permission. Personally, I would like to hold off a little longer, but if you have to have a baby right now, all you have to do is say so.”
That he’s outright offering kills the feeling of urgency. It’s not that I can’t have a baby. He just said I can. So now it’s my call. If I want him inside me right now without a condom, I know he won’t complain.
But that puts the responsibility on my shoulders, too.
If I did get pregnant and it made Meg sad, it would be all my fault.
Plus Mateo just said he would like to wait a little longer, and of course I want to make him happy. When we have a baby, it should be when we both want it, not just because I’m being jealous and impatient.
Instead of taking him up on that offer and telling him I want a baby right now, I ask, “Can I get a ballpark idea of how much longer we’re talking?”
“Just a little longer. Let’s see if Meg has a boy this time. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d prefer to have a son with her.”
I scowl at him to let him know I am definitely taking that the wrong way.
His arm around my waist tightens and his lips curve up with amusement. “Don’t take it like that,” he says, lightly. He drops another few kisses along my shoulder, heading toward my neck. “It’s not an insult. It’s just that you’re soft and sweet and loving.”
“All positive characteristics,” I state.
“In a woman, yes.”
I sag a little, my eyes rolling back in my head, and his smile widens in response. He loves to annoy me with his sexist bullshit.
“They’re not good qualities for someone who has to grow up to take over my position. I know you don’t see the dirty sides of things and I keep you in the dark on purpose, but I can’t have a soft son. A second son, sure. But not my heir. What if your traits are stronger in him than mine? I don’t want to twist him up. I need him to have the right kinds of instincts naturally. I have them. Meg has them. You don’t.”
“I have good instincts. No one ever gives my instincts any credit, but I’ve survived a lot of shit,” I tell him, eyebrows rising as I prepare to launch my own defense.
“I’m not disagreeing. But there are certain things about you that I don’t completely understand, and just in case you were born this way and not created, I don’t want to take any chances. If you and I had a son and he had your survival instincts, he’d be completely fucked. What if he’s as trusting as you are?”
“Well, as suspicious as you are, I think maybe he’d be better off taking a little from each of us and meeting somewhere in the middle. People are better than you give them credit for.”
He points his finger at me like I just proved why I’m not capable of giving him a competent son. “See? No.”
I fold my arms over my chest and give him a good glare, but now his focus has moved to my cleavage, which I’ve just unintentionally pushed together to make even more appealing. He has some nerve looking at my breasts that way when he just told me I’m not good enough to have his heir.
Or, too good, I suppose.
“I survived without you for 18 years, Mateo Morelli. I never once got murdered. I never gave money to a Nigerian prince.”
He forces his eyes from my breasts and meets my gaze, but there’s a cocky gleam that makes me immediately wary. “Never got taken advantage of by a much slyer opponent? Never continued to believe in that same person who took advantage of you again and again, even after he continued to show you who he was?”
“You can’t use yourself against me,” I state. “That’s the biggest dick move in the world.”
“Okay. Mark—you spent countless hours with him at the bakery, and until he had a gun pressed to your side and a Castellanos flunky right across from him, you had no suspicions about him. Vince? You would’ve insisted he wasn’t dangerous up until your last fucking breath when he finally flew far enough off the handle and got violent with you. I’m not trying to be mean, Mia,” he says, prying my arms apart so he can take my hand. “I love you exactly like this. It’s sweet, and it’s fine, because you’re safe with me, but can you imagine me with those traits? You wouldn’t have to, because I’d have died long before we could’ve ever met. We’ll have a daughter. After Meg gives me a son, you and I will have a little girl. She can be soft and sweet like you—I’d love that.”
I soften a smidge. I like hearing he’d love my traits in our hypothetical daughter.
Now he lifts my hand to his lips again so he can press a soft, sensual kiss there. “Besides, if you were the one having the baby now, you would be the one I couldn’t fuck for two months. That sounds like my own personal Hell.”
“You survived for more than 30 years without fucking me; I think you’d make it a couple months so I could recover from birthing our baby.”
Shuddering theatrically, he says, “Dark days. Let’s not talk about a time when I wasn’t fucking you.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, trying—and failing—to stifle a smile.
His brown eyes dance with amusement and he tucks me against him. “See? Nothing to be sad about. I’m just outsourcing this part so I can enjoy you.”
I sigh, totally conquered. He knows it too, the smug bastard.
“Fine,” I murmur, snuggling up against him. “You can’t use this excuse forever though,” I warn him, lightly jabbing a finger into his well-muscled chest.
“I won’t,” he assures me, kissing the top of my head. “I want to have a baby with you. I just want the timing to be right. In the meantime, we can practice all the time, really get good at this whole sex thing.”
I grin. “Oh yeah, we definitely don’t have it down.”
“A couple of amateurs,” he playfully agrees. “We’re embarrassing ourselves here.”
I loop my arms around his neck to give him a hug and sigh contentedly as he secures his arms around me. I fit so perfectly against his body, like I was carved out just to complement him. I could live right here, naked in his arms. I never want to leave.
So of course he lets go and leans back, cocking his head and reminding me, “Now, didn’t you need to go to the bathroom?”
He’s all cocky now that he’s talked me out of my perfectly reasonable feelings. I’ve been with him long enough to know his game, but I still let him win. Frankly, his way is usually better, and since my way meant I’d be sad all night, while his way feels much better, I latch onto his view of this whole situation and head to the bathroom much calmer than I would’ve a few minutes ago.
When I come back out, he has moved from the sitting room to the bedroom. The lights are off in the other room, so I guess we’re in bed for the night.
He looks as handsome as ever relaxing on the bed with his hands crossed behind his head. He still has his dress pants on, but he didn’t put his shirt back on. I didn’t bother putting my clothes back on either, I just tossed them in the dirty clothes. Now I climb into bed naked, flushing with pleasure as his gaze moves over me. He sees me naked roughly four days a week, but he still manages to look at me each time with heated interest.
I climb on the bed and curl up under the blankets. I love how cool the sheets and underside of the covers feel against my bare skin. I sigh with pleasure and curl up on my side so I can look at Mateo.
“You know that winter gala you wanted me to take you to next Friday?” he asks, casually.
I nod my head. “The one you said you were too busy for?” I ask lightly. “Yes, I do remember that.”
“I found a little room in my schedule. Still want to go?”
I raise an unimpressed eyebrow. “The tickets sold out. No brownie points for offering when you already know we can’t go.”
Smirking at me, he reaches over and snakes his arm under my body, yanking me against his side. “I don’t need brownie points,” he reminds me.
I roll my eyes, but snuggle up against the bastard anyway.
“Anyway,” he continues. “I made a couple calls. Talked to the coordinator. Turns out they found a couple more tickets to sell me.”
Now I grin up at him. “Really? You intimidated someone into letting you donate money to charity? That is some contradictory badassery, right there.”
“I’m well-rounded,” he deadpans.
“You’re my hero,” I inform him, still grinning.
“Hey, if my woman wants to go to some stupid charity gala, that’s what we’re going to do.”
I glow at being called his woman and curl up closer, my lips moving like a magnet to his bare chest. Just by being him, he’s made me forget my earlier annoyance. I want to move along to more enjoyable activities.
Before I can effectively seduce him, he reaches over toward the bedside table and grabs a box. A jewelry box, if I’m not mistaken.
“I was going to save these for Christmas, but they pair well with the dress and shoes you’ve got coming tomorrow.”
Now I push myself up, eyeing up the box eagerly. “For the gala?”
He nods and hands me my present.
I crack it open and nestled inside are gorgeous, glimmering sapphire and diamond earrings. “Wow,” I say, flashing him a grin. “These are so beautiful. Thank you.” I lean in to give him a hug. He holds onto me longer than I expect, and then his hand skates down the curve of my back. He can’t resist grabbing my ass, and it reignites my desire for him. A little sigh of pleasure escapes me. God, how I crave this man.
My womb may be empty, but now my head is filled with fantasies of next weekend, going out on his arm, publicly, visibly his. Meg usually gets to go with him to public things like that if he has to attend.
Even though I’m aggravated with her tonight, I feel a stab of guilt. That’s going to make Meg mad. Not only is he stripping her of any nights with him this week (she’s already had one, but she should have a couple more coming), now he’s taking me to the kind of society function he would ordinarily take her to. It’s maybe an excessive punishment, considering I really don’t think she had any ill intentions. We were talking, apparently everyone else in the damn house knew already, and she happened to mention it. If anything, it’s probably his fault for not telling me right away.
I don’t have it in me to say any of that, though. I don’t want to step on her toes, but I’m not about to turn down extra dates. Regardless of his insistence that I get my own family time with him, Meg gets far more of it than I do, and like Adrian pointed out, it’s unlikely she’s going to change her mind anytime soon.
This sort of thing probably makes it even less likely.
Surely Mateo understands that.
Then again, he only respects anyone’s rules as far as he wants to. He already promised me he would give me a baby when I wanted one. I just didn’t want it to be a war. I didn’t want it to hurt anybody; I wanted Meg to come around to the idea and let me have an equal share of everything she has.
But I guess she doesn’t get everything I get, either.
I have the larger slice of Mateo’s heart. He’s never punished me for not playing nice with her, not one single time. This isn’t the first time he’s done it to her. I’m sure it won’t be the last.
To be fair, though, I also generally play nice. I’m too cautious of Mateo thinking the sharing is wearing on me too much, too unsure of what that would mean for Meg. She doesn’t seem to worry about any of that, but then there’s no reason to.
We all know Mateo would never hurt me.