Chapter Thirty
Mia
Bella can’t stop grinning.
I had to go to the bridal shop to put a rush on all of our dresses. Since it’s a Saturday (and she’s a junior bridesmaid) Bella wanted to come with me.
After the dress shop I thought we’d grab some lunch. Well, my morning sickness decided to strike. When I emerged from the bathroom, wondering why I’ve always wanted to be pregnant when vomiting is so horrible, Bella stood there grinning.
We haven’t told the kids I’m pregnant yet. I don’t know what we’re waiting for—and in my more paranoid moments, I feel like I’d be more comfortable if we did tell them. Just for further verification that Mateo isn’t tricking me. I know he doesn’t want to make me stop loving him, but I also know he doesn’t want to risk me having a son by Vince. Normally in these circumstances, he finds an alternate path to getting his way. Not telling the girls (who would understandably get excited) about my pregnancy just gives more credibility to my paranoid fears.
Absurd, since I’ve spent my whole day adjusting wedding plans. I’m still going to marry the maniac, even half-expecting he’s plotting against me.
“I think you’re pregnant.”
I attempt a severe look. “I’m not at liberty to discuss this.”
“Is it a girl or a boy?”
“We don’t kno—oh, jeeze.”
Bella flashes me a look of victory, ripping her remaining breadstick in half. “Ha!”
“Your dad hasn’t given me the okay to announce this yet. No telling anyone else.”
“That’s why you moved up the wedding, huh?” she asks, smugly. “Dad doesn’t want anyone to know you’re pregnant before you got married.”
That is the logical reason—the reason people likely will assume. Of course he already has children with women he never married, but since I’m the one he’s obviously serious about, his more traditional relatives will probably think that’s why we’re rushing the wedding. Instead of a six month engagement, we are getting married in one month. It’s the only way my dress is still going to fit, and the only way I won’t be showing on the off chance Vince sees any of our wedding photos.
I didn’t think we’d be able to pull together a nice wedding in one month, but wouldn’t you know, all of our vendors are being incredibly cooperative. Mateo was still able to negotiate the theater he wanted for the ceremony, but since it’ll be a summer wedding now, he decided to just set up the reception in our own enormous back yard. I can’t imagine he’s happy about all those people coming to the house to set up, but I like the idea. I’m comfortable at home. It’s where every bit of our history has unfolded—what better place to marry him?
“No, we moved up the wedding because we really, really want to get married,” I inform her.
“My dress is going to be so pretty. You’re going to look like a princess in yours,” she informs me.
“We still need to get you shoes,” I tell her.
She nods, but her focus is not diverted. “I hope the baby’s a boy. We have enough girls. I want a brother.”
Grimacing, I say, “We’re actually hoping this one’s a girl. Meg’s having a boy, so you have a little brother on the way already.”
She picks off another piece of her breadstick and pops it into her mouth. “Tommy thinks it’s really weird that Meg’s having Dad’s son and you’re the one he’s marrying.”
“Who’s Tommy? Is this the same kid from before?”
Nodding, she says, “Meg went to talk to his mom since you weren’t here. We’re friends now, kinda, but I think his mom’s just afraid of Meg.”
I can’t help smirking a little. “Makes sense. Meg’s a little scary.”
“But they think it’s really weird.”
“Our family is a little weird,” I concede, since that’s not exactly a secret I can keep. “But we’re all happy, so that’s okay.”
“Dad slept in your room when you were gone,” she states, almost conversationally. “I think he really missed you.”
I hate to think of him sad, but it makes me feel good anyway. “I missed both of you so, so much.”
Bella nods, taking a drink of her lemonade and eyeing me up. “You didn’t really go to an internship, did you?” She pauses long enough for me to answer, but when I don’t, she goes on, “Dad said you did, but that doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t you tell me goodbye if you knew you were leaving?”
“Honey, it’s complicated to explain. I would not have left without saying goodbye if I had a choice, no. I wouldn’t have left at all, because I love you and your dad, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.”
“Tommy said you probably got kidnapped by one of Dad’s business associates.”
I really don’t like this Tommy kid. “Tommy doesn’t know anything,” I inform her, opening the little black folder the waitress dropped off a few minutes ago. I reach into my purse and dig out some cash. “Are you ready to get going?”
“Lemme finish my lemonade,” she says, clutching the cup in her hands and sucking it down.
I assume the topic is dropped as we head back out to the car and climb in. Adrian closes the door behind us and climbs in the driver’s seat, but before we even get out of the parking lot, Bella goes on.
“And Tommy does too know stuff. He knows lots of stuff. His uncle’s a cop, so they talk about Dad sometimes. People know who he is, even if they haven’t met him.”
“A cop, huh?” I murmur, glancing in the rearview mirror at Adrian. “What’s his name?”
“Uncle Brian is all I know.”
“What kind of cop is he?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging unhelpfully.
Well, she’s not a very good junior spy. I’ll have to get with Meg and find out what the mom’s last name was and get a more detailed report about that meeting. We never discussed it since she “handled” it, but if this little pipsqueak has cop relatives, we should probably look into it.
Adrian catches my eye in the mirror, nodding briefly to let me know he’s got it under control.
This is also not my favorite part of life with Mateo. Ordinarily I don’t think much about the fact that Mateo is actually a criminal, but I definitely feel some anxiety when things like this crop up, subtly reminding me. The good guys feel like the bad guys, but that’s because we’re the bad guys. Childrearing in this environment is going to be a little more difficult. And I’ve only experienced the early, mild anxieties of raising the girls.
What’s it going to be like raising sons in this family? What fresh hell will it be to raise the next generation of criminals to quietly reign over this city the way Mateo does? I’m a little relieved it’s Meg’s son that will take his place; I don’t want mine to be in that kind of danger. Maybe I’ll only have daughters. Mateo probably wouldn’t be very pleased, but I’d sleep a lot better at night.
---
“I was curious as to why I had to bring a bathing suit to a bridal shower. I guess this explains it.”
As we all lounge by the pool, I look over at the relative newcomer. I wanted to have some kind of get-together since a bachelorette party was out of the question. We’re basically all pregnant; no one can drink.
Well, some can; Meg is mixing drinks at her poolside bar for those lucky ladies.
The newcomer is Willow Wilde, Elise’s friend and the wife of some guy who does PI work for Mateo. I’ve met him a few times, but they don’t come around the mansion much so I haven’t made friends with her yet. I’m more surprised Meg hasn’t. Meg is all about making friends.
Meg brings over a mimosa and offers it to Willow. Meg looks adorable in a black and white one-piece striped bathing suit, her baby bump popping. Willow is about our age, so she fits right in.
“Oh, none for me, thanks.”
Meg glances at Willow’s flat abdomen.
Willow puts an answering hand across her tummy and nods. “We just found out.”
“Seriously?” Francesca demands, throwing her hands up in the air. “Am I the only woman here who isn’t knocked up?”
“If my mom ever shows up, hopefully she’ll join the not-knocked-up club. This will be super weird otherwise.”
“Like Father of the Bride,” Meg says cheerfully. “We should watch that after we finish at the pool. We’ll take over the media room.” Pointing at me, she says, “Pick a wedding-centric rom-com to follow it up with. Bride Wars? That 27 Dresses movie? You do like James Marsden.”
“Don’t say that too loudly, Mateo will send someone to have a talk with him,” Francesca says, smirking.
I grin, taking a sip of my pink lemonade. “Bride Wars. It’s kind of us, if I had a hot brother to give you.”
“And if you were allowed to have a career,” she says, winking.
“Shh,” I say, shooing her. “Go away.”
“I could totally see you as a nice little school teacher set to marry an intolerant jerkface. Obviously I’m the boss bitch lawyer who gets the good guy.”
“I got an awesome guy, thank you very much.”
“My guy’s like, ‘I’ll be the wind beneath your wings,’ and your guy’s like, ‘bitch, stop having feelings, that’s so annoying.’”
“Mateo would never call me a bitch,” I inform her, raising my eyebrows.
“He would also never let you leave him for my imaginary hot brother. Maybe we can’t relate to rom-coms after all.”
I nod my agreement. “Anne Hathaway probably didn’t have a death necklace.”
“Well, if you ever want out, I figured out the way, it just takes a while. We’ll find him a new model and slowly ease you out once he’s all wrapped up in her.”
“I will stab anyone in the face who even tries it,” I inform her.
“That was my initial plan, but he overruled me,” she says lightly.
“You could never stab me in the face; you love me.”
“No, not the face. I would’ve grabbed a big fistful of hair and plunged the knife right into your chest like a warrior. I would’ve got myself murdered though, so it wasn’t a good idea.”
Willow is staring at us, wide-eyed, trying to figure out if we’re joking or not.
“Anyway.” Meg hands Francesca the mimosa she brought over. “This is your bridal shower and we shouldn’t scare the noob,” she adds, nodding to Willow.
“So, wait…” Willow looks at Meg’s belly, then over at me, a frown of contemplation on her face.
Elise reaches over and pats Willow’s arm, shaking her head. “Don’t try to understand.”
“But—”
“You’ll regret it,” Elise warns her.
“I’m having Mateo’s baby. She’s marrying him,” Meg summarizes.
Willow blinks, glancing between us again. “And you’re friends?”
“Good friends. I am a lover of all women, even the one who is marrying my ex-fiancé. She did me a favor, really. I got the better long-term deal. My babies are adorable and set for life. My baby daddy is Mateo Morelli, so no slimy asshole’s gonna think I’m some poor single mom he can dick around. Mateo gave me my own business, so I can start amassing a fortune of my own. I get all the Morelli mob wife perks and none of the stress that comes with the mob husband. In a couple years, I’ll be shopping for my own trophy spouse.” Indicating me, she says, “She only gets to be a trophy spouse.”
I look out at the sparkling pool in the back yard of the mansion I live in with the sexiest man alive. “Works for me.”
Meg nods, smiling brightly. “We all win.”
Willow still looks a bit skeptical. Elise nods knowingly and leans in to murmur, “I told you they were nuts.”
Finally, Willow shrugs. “Well, whatever works, I suppose. If you and your trophy spouse need any art work, come see me.”
We lounge and chat for a little bit longer before Meg waves toward the arch that leads from the driveway to the side yard where the pool is located. “Hi! You must be Mia’s mom.”
Picking up my lemonade, I sit up and push my legs over the side of my lounger. This is the first time my mom has ever been at the mansion. Mateo isn’t all about visitors, and he’s not all about my mom; consequently, she has never been invited here.
She looks out of place here, like a ten-dollar dress at a high-end boutique. I grimace faintly at the thought. Mateo’s snobbery has rubbed off on me. I wonder if he thought that about me when we first met. I probably wouldn’t want to know what he thought of me when he first met me. I may be his masterpiece now, but I began this journey an out-of-place, cheap lump of clay.
Vince never thought that. He never looked at me and saw something less-than that needed work. He was perfectly happy with the girl who couldn’t afford spaghetti sauce.
My hand absently falls to my stomach, but I don’t have the time to sink into thoughts about Vince, and it wouldn’t benefit me anyway, so I shove them away.
“Holy Moses,” my mom says. I can see how wide her blue eyes are from here as she traipses across the lawn in $12 heels and a tan dress that fits too snugly. We told people not to bring gifts to this thing—I mean, seriously, what could they give us?—but she has a card in her hand.
“Hey, Mom.” I offer up a warm smile, pushing my pink Chanel sunglasses up on my head and fixing my hair around them. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I didn’t visit a ton when I was with Vince, but I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen her since I got together with Mateo. Vince didn’t especially like visiting my mom, but he always went with me. Mateo has gone once—the first time, and only because I played the “well, Vince was going to go with me” card, and he indulged me.
Mateo was fine with entertaining my mom when there was something he wanted out of her, but she no longer serves a purpose, so he has no further use for her.
She’s completely awestruck by the house. I’m not anymore, but I still remember that feeling so I get it.
“It’s like one of those fancy French chateaus,” she says, like she’s ever seen one. “This place is fit for a king.”
Wrapping an arm around my shoulder to give me a fond squeeze, Meg says, “Well, she’s basically marrying one.”
My mom couldn’t be more delighted. She spins around again, looking back at the house and shaking her head as she murmurs, “Wow.”
“Can I get you a mimosa?” Meg offers.
Mom spins around, nodding. “That would be great, thank you.” Once Meg is gone, my mom comes closer to me, but keeps her gaze on the long stretch of house. “Boy, you’ve done good for yourself, haven’t you?”
I smile faintly. She’s just impressed with Mateo’s obvious wealth, so I feel weird agreeing. None of this is what I love about Mateo.
My mom doesn’t even know any intimate details of my life, though. She didn’t even know I was gone when Vince hauled me off to Vegas.
We walk across the perfectly manicured green lawn until we make it back to the covered patio area. There are a couple of obvious security cameras in black bubbles along the way, but I have no idea if there are hidden ones, too.
“This is just—Wow. You should take me on a tour of the place,” she says, eagerly glancing through the window. She’s actually looking into the servants’ quarters over here, but even that is nice, just smaller than the rest of the house.
“Maybe after drinks,” I say, nodding. “Mateo’s out right now, but he’ll be back for dinner. He can be kind of particular about people in the house, but I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“He has a lot of rules, huh?”
I smile faintly. “He has a few ideas of how things should be.”
“I can’t believe my daughter lives in a gorgeous place like this with some fancy, classy man,” she murmurs, glancing around again before following me back to the pool where the rest of the ladies are. “You sure didn’t get your taste in men from me.”
I bite back a grin, tucking a chunk of hair behind my ears. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. He makes plenty of trouble; he just has a bigger bank account than yours have.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” she says congenially. “Just the other day Bob’s check bounced when we went to pay the rent. Came home to an eviction notice on our front door—the people we rent from now are real hardasses, you mess up once and they’re trying to kick you out.”
“You guys should buy.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He still hasn’t even proposed. Can you believe that? My daughter’s barely out of college and she snatches up one of Chicago’s wealthiest. Me, I’ve been around the block a dozen times and I still haven’t managed to get the rock.”
“You’ll find the right one eventually,” I tell her, though honestly I’ve given up believing that. “How are the kids?”
“They’re good. Allan wants to play football in school next year. Casey just got a pet hamster named Toodles. Crazy how fast they grow up.” Her gaze drops to my toned, flat stomach. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be a grandma. I feel too young to be a grandma.”
I place a hand on my tummy, feeling myself glow a bit.
I take my mom back over to mingle with the ladies and introduce her around. Francesca has never met her but she doesn’t seem impressed—probably because my mom can’t stop talking about how big the house is and how she can’t wait to go in and look around. I’m literally hiding my face with embarrassment like a teenager again.
Finally I give up and pull out my cell phone, shooting Mateo a text. “Hey, my mom is driving me nuts about giving her a tour of the house. Is it okay if I show her around?”
He responds pretty quickly, “Sure. Adrian and I will be home soon.”
“Can I ask another smallish favor?”
“Depends. What are you prepared to offer me?” he shoots back.
I smile indulgently, typing back, “I’ll consider marrying you?”
“You’ll marry me regardless,” the smug jerk sends back. “What do you need?”
I glance up at my mother, then turn my attention back to the phone. I grimace to myself as I type, “My mom is going through a bit of a rough patch financially. Any chance we could give her like a thousand dollars so she doesn’t get evicted from her apartment?” As soon as I hit send, I add, “I hate asking for money, I just feel bad.”
“My money is your money,” he replies, without delay. “I’ll send Adrian with an envelope when we get home.”
“Thank you, you’re the best!” I attach a string of emojis that will annoy the hell out of him.