Deleted Scene
In the book, this takes place while Mia is missing.
Meg
I stand outside of the bedroom, staring at the white door. I’ve been inside this room plenty of times before with Mia, but never without her. Certainly never with Mateo. He’s brought her into our room on occasion, but he’s never, ever brought me to their space.
I haven’t even looked here the past four nights. I assumed he was working late into the night in his study, trying to find Mia. I’ve left him to it. I understood he needed to. This morning when I saw him at the breakfast table, I saw how tired he was. The dark smudges under his eyes told me just how much sleep he was getting. Adrian’s solemnity told me they still hadn’t found anything. Mateo barking at everyone, even Maria, discouraged me from asking about it.
I figured I’d wait him out, but I don’t know how much time I have. I have no idea where Vince took Mia, and I have no idea if Mateo will find him. I remember when Francesca disappeared and he was searching for her, but that time the trail had gone cold. This time he started searching right away. When Mia didn’t show up for dinner Saturday night, Mateo knew something was wrong. Adrian told me she sent Mateo a text message, but when they tracked her phone, they wound up at a bar. Someone had left it behind, the bartender said. Then Adrian persuaded them to let him see the security tapes, and it became clear it was Vince.
I was a little afraid they figured it out so quickly. To be honest, I was hoping they would fail this time. They wouldn’t be able to find any leads. I can’t believe Vince ditched her phone at the place he actually took her. What a fucking numbskull. He could’ve ditched it in a Dumpster somewhere, but he just leaves it at the bar where he bought her a drink?
Unless he wanted Mateo to see it. That’s possible. Until tonight, I had no idea what was on that footage, but when I went to Mateo’s study looking for him, I wandered into his security room. Normally the larger security screen is on some room in the house that he was last checking, but now there’s a copy of the tapes from the bar.
And since they’re still loaded up, I’m guessing that means he has been watching the same goddamn tapes for three days. I checked the monitors to see if I could find him. When I found him in Mia’s bedroom, in their bed, I knew I had some time, so I watched.
It looked like Vince and Mia were on a date. Mateo doesn’t let Mia out to play much since she tends to cast a devotion spell on any man she interacts with for too long and he doesn’t want any new Vinces or Marks becoming a thorn in his side. But since Mia has about as much sense as a grapefruit, when her super sexy ex-boyfriend showed up, it looks like she happily went to grab a drink with him. The video from the bar is a little grainy, but Mia is all smiles. Vince looks like he’s having a good time, too. Then she gets emotional and he holds her. There’s no audio, so it’s impossible to tell why Mia got upset or what Vince said to her. Mateo is a bit of a voyeur, but under the circumstances, I’m thinking he probably didn’t appreciate watching this one little bit.
He’s obviously flagellated himself with it, though. It probably doesn’t help that the moody Morelli grew up good. Vince was always a cutie, but four years later, he’s super hot. Mia’s a bit flighty, and Mateo knows she’s easily led; hell, he’s part of the reason she’s so easily led. He broke that girl down and trained her for himself, not accounting on anyone else getting their hands on her again.
Now someone else has. Mia left that bar with Vince’s arm around her waist, and no one has seen her since.
Not that Mia would ever cheat on Mateo, and she definitely wouldn’t leave Mateo. Not on her own. Mateo knows that. But however he got her to go with him, Vince has her now and Mateo isn’t around. If he doesn’t find her fast, Vince just might sneak back into her heart. Especially after the shit Mateo pulled, making Mia think Vince was dead. I know he didn’t think she’d ever see Vince again, but way to melt away any of her negative feelings toward him.
So, now he has Mia somewhere. At best. At worst, everyone’s fears about him turning into Matt weren’t unfounded and he took her to kill her. I hoped that wasn’t why he wanted her, but I couldn’t completely discount it. I mean, he’s clearly a little crazy or he wouldn’t have shown his face in Chicago ever again. Just the fact that he came back for her is a bad sign.
I’m hoping he’s just been carrying a torch for her though. He can whisk her away somewhere Mateo can’t reach her, hypnotize her with his abs, make her fall in love with him again. He managed it the first time when Mateo wasn’t there; he might be able to swing it a second time. I should’ve put together an informational pamphlet for him, just in case he never figured out what he wasn’t doing that Mateo was. I’m no idiot, I’ve dissected that shit; I could seduce Mia if I had a penis.
I’m sure he’ll figure it out. It’s not rocket science. I still wish I would’ve given him a manual.
Too late now.
So, after I reviewed the tapes from the bar, my conscience was soothed. I told myself if he wanted to chop Mia up into little pieces and toss her in a field somewhere, he probably wouldn’t have been so tender with her when she got emotional and tipsy. He obviously still cares for her. Whatever voodoo she practices must not have a shelf life.
A quick glance at the monitors showed my very own voodoo-afflicted male lying in her bed alone rather than coming to mine. Totally fine. Who wants sex and comfort when they can wallow alone in an empty bed?
He’ll snap out of it.
It’s only been four days.
I’m hoping to nudge things along, though. I know how he gets, I knew the dark cloud would be unavoidable, but if Vince pulls this off and keeps Mia off the radar, it will all be worth it. Or if he kills her. That would be a lot cleaner, but obviously I’m not hoping for that.
Totally not my preference.
I’m at least 93% sure that’s not my preference.
Mia going gah-gah over Vince is my preference, it’s just more complicated; if Mateo does eventually find them, he’s still going to drag her ass back here. Hopefully Vince only came back because he was better prepared. I have a lot hanging on that kid, so he better have his shit together this time.
Standing here all night isn’t going to make this any easier, so I take a breath, square my shoulders, and push open Mia’s bedroom door. It opens into her sitting room, which is dark. Her bedroom light is on, though, so I continue through the arch and pause just inside the doorway. Mateo is lying on her bed, still dressed. He took his jacket off and loosened his tie, but he’s lying there in his black slacks and white dress shirt, staring at the ceiling, his long fingers curled around a glass of presumably strong, expensive liquor at his side. I glance at the bedside table and find his favorite decanter right there so he won’t have to go too far for a refill.
Well, this is a little disheartening. This is what he would rather do than come to our bedroom? Lie here in a drunken stupor, staring at the ceiling? Awesome.
I clear my throat in case he didn’t hear me come in, but he doesn’t move. I’m sure he heard me come in. He has excellent hearing. If you lightly pat your pillow at night, you’ll wake him up from a dead sleep.
“Hey,” I say, gently.
He still doesn’t speak.
He hasn’t been speaking to me much. It makes me nervous on occasion. I know he’s not actually omniscient, but the man does know things he shouldn’t a lot of the time. It’s crossed my mind that maybe he’s freezing me out because he somehow knows about my involvement. It’s not impossible he put a listening device in my car. I haven’t given the man a single reason not to trust me, but for someone who doesn’t hold grudges, he’s sure been distant since the day I told Mia I was pregnant. At first I thought he was just punishing me, but then his indifference stretched on and I began to worry it was something worse than that. Usually his cold spells are limited to a few days. He can never stay mad at me for more than a week; I’m too goddamn accommodating.
This time, no amount of accommodating fixed it.
Christmas came a few weeks later and I eagerly awaited my gift. We’d been talking about a trip to Bora Bora, just the two of us. Given the gulf between us, I thought we could really use a few days alone.
There were plane tickets under the tree, but he gave them to Mia.
I got a diamond tennis bracelet and a pair of earrings.
Mia gifts. Things like that make Mia feel cherished and appreciated, but they just make me feel disappointed. He knows I’m not into that stuff; I prefer his time, I prefer experiences, stuff we can do together or share with the kids. I can buy all the stuff I want.
That was the morning I began to worry I’d lost my place. I watched my toddler crawl up into Mia’s lap and tilt her little head back to ask for help opening one of her gifts. There was too much tape. Mia dropped a kiss on top of her little head and helped her rip it open. It was a small thing, and ordinarily it doesn’t bother me at all that Mateo has insisted since Rosalie’s birth that she be close to Mia, but on Christmas morning it felt different. I realized beyond a shadow of a doubt, watching Mateo smiling warmly at his girls, Mia is not optional; I am.
That was the morning I realized maybe he wasn’t dealing me an excessive punishment; maybe he just simply didn’t care anymore. And if he didn’t care anymore, then I was in his way.
That was a scary fucking epiphany.
I was lucky if I got him twice a week after that, and even luckier if he touched me one of those nights. He took Mia on the getaway to Bora Bora. He took her to public functions. He stopped taking me out on dates. He still showed up to read Rosalie bedtime stories, but he stopped giving me goodnight kisses.
I sold the tennis bracelet and earrings. I hated them anyway for what they represented, and I realized it may be time to adjust. It may be time for a back-up plan. It may be time for an exit strategy. Mia’s locked into this thing ‘til death do they part, but hopefully I’m not.
If I am, I worried that death would be coming a lot quicker than I was prepared for. It’s possible the only thing that’s kept me alive this long is the Morelli boy finally growing in my womb. Mia wouldn’t let him hurt me, but he knows that, so if he wanted to he would just make sure to cover his ass.
But then Vince showed up. Me, I was already working on my exit strategy, but there he was, like a gift from the gods. If he could get Mia out of the way, Mateo would come back to me.
Only he’s not coming back. By day he’s tearing the world apart trying to find her. By night he lies here—drunk, sad, and alone—in the bed he shared with Mia. So, it’s not going quite according to plan, but I’m telling myself it’s only because he still has hope of finding her right now. As long as he thinks she’s coming back, he doesn’t need me.
If she doesn’t come back, he will.
It’s not the fairytale, exactly, but hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I like my windpipe uncrushed, thank you very much. I want to see my children grow up. If their father murders me to get me out of his way, I’m going to be pissed.
I move closer and he doesn’t say anything, but then I brace a hand on the bed, preparing to climb up on it with him, and he finally grinds out, “Don’t.”
I freeze, hand on the bed. It doesn’t immediately register.
Then it does. I’m not even allowed to sit on her fucking bed.
I withdraw my hand like it’s on a hot stovetop and straighten, irritation whipping through me like a live wire. He’s got a lot of fucking nerve. He has fucked her in my bed—I was there to witness it once—but I’m not even good enough to sit on hers?
He finally moves, but only to bring his glass to his mouth and take another sip.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding the past few nights,” I say, lightly.
He still doesn’t respond. This is a level of disregard I wasn’t prepared for, but I keep it light. I know he’s drunk. Mateo doesn’t get drunk very often, but he behaves much differently when he is.
I keep my tone level, but I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Fucking fantastic,” he replies. “Is that all?”
I shift my weight, resting my arms on top of my baby bump. “I just wanted to check on you,” I tell him. “I’ve been worried about you. It doesn’t seem like you’ve been sleeping. You’re obviously stressed out. I know you’re pretty busy these days trying to find Mia, but it’s the middle of the night. Since there’s nothing you can do, I thought it might be healthier to get your mind off things for a little bit. Why don’t you come to our bed tonight? I can relax you. Maybe you’ll actually get some sleep so you can start fresh tomorrow.”
“How selfless,” he remarks, dryly.
I can’t fight the frown that transforms my face. “I’m sorry; we haven’t had sex in over two weeks. I figured we could both use the release.”
“The only release I need is a bullet from the chamber of my gun into Vince’s thick fucking skull.”
I don’t really know what to say to that.
“I should’ve killed him,” he mutters, taking another drink. He’s not actually talking to me, more to himself, so I don’t respond. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”
Offering a shrug, I say, “Mia didn’t want that. You know she has a soft spot for him. He was her first love. You made the right call at the time. No one could’ve known he’d come back.”
“I knew,” he says, nodding slightly. “I fucking knew. Mia is irreplaceable.”
“Well… there are other women in the world,” I say, trying not to be bitchy, but Jesus.
“I shouldn’t have stopped watching him. I thought enough time had passed. Three fucking years I watch his ass, and year four he comes back for her.” He shakes his head in cynical disbelief.
“No one could’ve predicted that, Mateo,” I assure him.
“I should’ve have never let her work at the bakery. I should’ve kept Adrian on her—this wouldn’t have happened if I’d have put a fucking guard on her. I put a guard on you,” he says, gesturing to me. Somehow this gesture, his facial expression, his tone, indicates he put a guard on a tool shed but left his palace unlocked.
I shake it off. “Don’t blame yourself. She didn’t have to go to the bar with him.”
He shakes his head again. “That’s my fault, too. I softened her to him when she thought I killed him. He’s probably fucking her right now.”
My eyebrows rise and fall, but I’m not sure how to respond to that, either.
Since I didn’t disagree, I guess, he hurls his glass across the room. It hits the wall, breaks into pieces, and clatters to the hardwood floor.
Somehow it doesn’t even startle me. I stand there for a moment, then I turn and walk into her bathroom to retrieve a towel and garbage can so I can clean it up. I steal a glance at him as I dab up the wet spot from the spilled liquor and wipe down the wall. He doesn’t move to help me. I didn’t expect him to, but once I take the towel and trash can to the bathroom and come back, he still hasn’t really moved. His hands are covering his face, then he rakes his fingers through his hair and resumes staring at the ceiling.
Helplessness is not a feeling Mateo is accustomed to, and he does not deal well with it. I knew that, but it wasn’t my fault last time he felt it. Guilt slithers down my spine.
“Come on,” I say, offering him my hand. “This isn’t doing you any good. Come to bed.”
“I’m in bed,” he states, carefully.
“Come to our bed. Let me take your mind off all this. You’re not betraying Mia if you take a few hours off of obsessing and get some sleep. She wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you lying here, miserable and alone—”
“Stop saying that.”
I frown. “Saying what?”
“Mia wouldn’t have wanted this. You make it sound like she’s dead.”
My heart sinks. It’s not like it’s an impossibility. He knows that. But right now I’m not sure what happens if she is.
As if I just argued otherwise, he says, “She’s not dead.”
“I hope not,” I say, but without much confidence.
“She isn’t.”
Glancing down at the floor, I think through my next words. I could point out how horrible they were to Vince. I could remind him of Vince’s volatility, or his very own family history with a story like this. I could remind him that Matt slaughtered his first love for the sins of not loving him, of betraying him, of leaving him.
Only all of that puts the blame directly on Mateo’s shoulders. Because if Vince did kill Mia, it’s unquestionably Mateo’s fault. He fucked with that kid’s head; he toyed with Mia in front of him while she was still with him. He tormented them. Vince was very probably in Mateo’s current situation at one time—lying awake in the bed he shared with Mia, all alone, knowing she was with Mateo.
For three nights, Mateo fucked Mia while she still belonged to Vince.
For four nights, Mateo has lain awake in this bed with these thoughts, and added to them the possibility that the woman he loves may be dead because of games he’s played.
This isn’t a good time to lecture him about his karma, but he definitely should have listened to me about all that.
I don’t want to play Devil’s advocate here, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “What if she is? I know it’s unthinkable, I hope she isn’t, but… what if he did kill her?”
He’s quiet for long enough that I don’t think he’s going to answer me. Finally, he does. “Then I find him, rip him open, make him wish for death. I don’t kill him right away. I take out everyone he loves first. Everyone he’s ever loved. Everyone who had a hand in helping him. I destroy every last one of them. I make him watch. I make killing Joey feel like a fucking birthday gift.”
I tell myself he’ll calm down, even if that does happen, but I can’t make myself believe it. I should be able to. There was a time long ago when he wanted to burn the Castellanos family to the ground for me. Now they’re our in-laws.
But I know this is different. I know he means this—because it’s Mia. Mia brings out Mateo’s dark side, so I have no doubt that he won’t rest until he avenges her. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her. I know that. It’s why I’m glad she is Mia. A more calculating woman would’ve had me eliminated already.
If Vince kills Mia, Mateo will empty his arsenal to destroy him. He’ll go down with this ship if he has to, because he’s so wrapped up in that girl it’s all he can do.
Swallowing down a lump of dread, I ask, “And then what? After you use all of your resources and connections to destroy your own family for a personal vendetta, then what, Mateo?”
“Then I nearly empty my clip into his face.” He smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. Drunk Mateo is out full force. I don’t know how long he’s been drinking, but I suddenly wish I would have left him in here alone and gone back to my own bed. Tomorrow we could wake up and none of this would be said. I wouldn’t have to see it. I wouldn’t have to witness the pain he’s in because Mia isn’t with him. I wouldn’t have to hear the next words out of his mouth. “Almost. I save the last bullet.”
“For what?” I ask, quietly.
“My last gift to the world,” he says, dryly.
My blood runs cold. Actually, it might stop moving through my veins entirely, because with a crushing rise of adrenaline, my heart completely stalls.
I could throw up right now. Anger surges through me, blanketing every other feeling. It’s like a blood red curtain falling over everything else until it’s all I can see.
“I’m still here,” I grind out, slowly.
Shrugging and closing his eyes, he puts his hands behind his head and rests his gorgeous, pain in the ass head right on top. “Then be nice to Dante; maybe he’ll let you stay in the house.”
I hate him right now. I tell myself this isn’t really him—this is drunk Mateo, and drunk Mateo is a fucking nightmare. It’s not news. I’ve encountered him a couple times over the course of all these years. Right now as I look at this man, he looks like the man I love, but he isn’t.
Because I took away his light. I took away the person who matters most to him.
I don’t matter to him.
I’m not worth sticking around for.
The anger suddenly drains right out of me. Peace settles over me. I’ve been fighting this for so long. For years, I knew he still loved me. We were still best friends. When he came to my room, I still felt like he wanted to be there.
But he doesn’t anymore. He doesn’t want to be there anymore, and I don’t want him to be somewhere he doesn’t want to be. I deserve a hell of a lot better than that.
Tears try to burn behind my eyes because of my damn pregnancy. I know this is where the end begins. It has to be. I can’t even pry Mateo away from Mia when she isn’t here.
Plan B, it is.
“I want out.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even open his eyes.
“Of this relationship,” I add, to clarify. “I want out of this relationship. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
I feel like I just swallowed a vat of battery acid. Blood rushes through my veins. There’s a teeny tiny part of me—a ridiculous, absurd, insane part—that hopes he’ll wake up. Realize that just because Mia’s gone doesn’t mean he has nothing.
But we have been nothing lately. Since shortly before Christmas. Since I went against his wishes and told Mia I was pregnant. He ended our relationship that day; the bastard just didn’t have the decency to tell me. He left me dangling in the wind, holding onto a phantom love while he completely threw himself into his real one.
Bastard. This bastard.
I almost feel relieved. I don’t know how I have time to cycle through all of these feelings before the bastard responds.
Finally, he says very simply, “All right.”
Despite all I’ve just told myself, this agreement stings. It feels like a slap in the face. I remain standing here, waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.
I hate the swell of tenderness that follows. I hate the sympathy. I hate the regret. I hate that I feel so damn bad for my part in all this, but I could’ve stopped this. It’s my fault he looks so lost and alone right now. His pain could’ve been averted. I could’ve told Adrian about Vince. I could’ve set a trap for him that day instead of letting him take Mia, but I didn’t.
Mia isn’t even here, he may never even see her again, and he still doesn’t care if I leave.
But then, why would he? Apparently life is too unbearable to face without her.
I’m tempted to take one last look at him, but I don’t.
I just leave him here alone and try not to think about what tomorrow will bring.
---
I’m surprised to see Mateo at the breakfast table this morning, all put-together like always, no sign of the wrecked Mateo I saw last night. There are still dark smudges beneath his eyes, speaking to his lack of sleep, but he’s fully functional, fully assembled, perfect hair, clean shaven, his suit without so much as a wrinkle.
I couldn’t really sleep. As much as I told myself I wouldn’t, I spent all night thinking about this. What happens to me now? Where do I go from here? I didn’t even leave Rodney, and now I’m going to leave Mateo fucking Morelli? We have children together and I’m carrying his first son—his heir. How does this work?
I’m further surprised when he raises his gaze to look at me as I head toward the kitchen, and his lips curve up slightly. He hasn’t smiled since the dinner Mia didn’t show up to. Now he gives me a nod of acknowledgement that feels normal, and for a couple of terrifying minutes as I go to plate myself some breakfast, I wonder if he was so drunk he doesn’t remember last night.
Is that better or worse? Most people are more honest when they drink, which is maybe why no one likes drunk Mateo. Sober Mateo is made of pretty lies, so no one is ever prepared for the ugliness of drunk Mateo.
I take my usual seat at his right, but I feel incredibly awkward. I try to mask it, flicking a glance at him. “How are you feeling today?”
“Like garbage,” he says, smiling wryly. “From what I can recall, I deserve to, though.” Now he meets my gaze, and it’s the most connection I’ve felt with him in four months. “I apologize for last night. I was out of sorts.”
My mouth opens in surprise, but I can’t seem to find words. What does that mean? Does this apology nullify last night’s conversation? Did I spend the whole night outlining my new life for no reason? Was he just being a maudlin drunk?
He reaches over into Mia’s empty spot and grabs a manila folder, dragging it across the table and flipping it open. He briefly looks over the paperwork inside, even though he obviously already knows what’s there.
Since I don’t, I await a sign of some sort.
“I have an idea to run by you. I don’t have a lot of time this morning, Adrian is checking on a few possible leads and I need to get to it, but I wanted to touch base with you first. I want to give you the piano bar.”
“What?” I ask, shaking my head slightly. “It’s called Meg’s Place—isn’t it already mine?”
“Well, yes, I bought it for you, but it’s in my name. I want to transfer it into yours. Whether you want to keep the current management or run it yourself is completely up to you, but all revenue it brings in will be yours either way. It’s been doing quite well,” he adds, meeting my gaze and nodding slightly, like we’re in a fucking business meeting.
“Um, why? Is this an ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole’ gift, or a divorce settlement?”
His smile is pleasant, but his words are not. “We’re not married.”
My head bobs of its own accord, responding to the insult before my mouth can catch up. He spends four years reassuring me of my status, then says that. I guess I know where I stand. “Wow. Yes, that’s….” All I can think to do at this point is get his ring off my finger—not my plan, because I figured I would sell it, but I also had no idea he would give me a business. My head is spinning with all this and my hands tremble with anger as I try to get the ring off my swollen finger. It’s like a Chinese finger trap; pulling on it makes the damn thing try harder to stay on.
“There’s no reason for this to be unfriendly,” he adds, closing the manila envelope and sliding it across the table so it’s in front of me. “I’m not trying to be cruel; I just want to make sure you come out of this with something to show for it. You’re still the mother of my children and Mia’s friend; I want this to be friendly.”
I can’t help frowning as I give up trying to yank my finger off and instead open the manila folder, looking at the paperwork inside. Shaking my head as I leaf through it, I say, “I only proposed this last night. In the middle of the night. When did you have time to do all this paperwork?”
Mateo shrugs and grabs his coffee cup, lifting it to take a sip before saying, “I didn’t get much sleep.”
That’s true, but it’s not the truth. Maybe he wasn’t asleep, but the rest of the world was. He was also drunk out of his mind—not in the state of mind to do complicated paperwork. Flipping through the policies, account summaries and invoices, legal documents, I realize… he already had this prepared.
He already had this prepared.
It’s the last reaction I expect to have, but I suddenly burst into laughter.
Here I was struggling and trying to make things work, and he’s been waiting for me to give up. “Did you draft these the day I told Mia I was pregnant?”
I guess since I’m literally laughing about it, he doesn’t lie to me. “No.” After the briefest of pauses, he adds, “Later that week.”
I nod, but then I shake my head, because this man is enough to make me lose my fucking mind. “Do you have a pen? Do I sign these now? What do I do?”
He shakes his head. “I’m just giving them to you to look over. Once Mia’s home and everything gets settled, I’ll set up a meeting for you with my accountant, he can go over all the details with you so you’re as prepared as you can be. I don’t have time to deal with it right now, but in the event you don’t trust me and you want someone else to look it all over, you have time to do that now. Everything’s on the up and up, I’m not trying to screw you.”
Smirking, I leaf through the papers. “No, I know you’re not trying to screw me. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you were.”
Smiling faintly, he assures me, “It doesn’t have to be a mess. I’ll need you to change rooms, obviously, but you don’t have to leave the house. Nothing has to change for the kids. We’ll work out the details, but nothing really has to change for any of us.”
“I just won’t be your obligation fuck anymore,” I state, nodding my head.
“Well, what fun’s an obligation fuck?” he asks lightly enough, but he doesn’t even bother denying it.
I shake my head. “You’re a jerk.”
“That’s a very mild word for what I am. I’d have forgiven something much stronger this morning.”
Sighing, I close the folder and push it aside, turning my attention back to my plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “You could’ve just been honest with me, you know. You didn’t need to string me along for four months, thinking maybe this was some never-ending punishment. Would it have been so hard to say, ‘hey, sister wives has been fun, but I need to downgrade my workload and I want my bedroom back. It’s been fun, but we’re done here’?”
Apparently unconcerned with the four months of my life he’s wasted, he says, “It worked out just fine. This was your idea,” he adds, firmly, like I need reminding. “You’re the one who ended things with me. So, when Mia comes home…”
I groan, rolling my eyes. “God. Yes, when your fairy princess comes home, I will take full responsibility for ending this relationship.”
He nods once, satisfied. “Good.”
I shake my head and take a sip of orange juice to wash down my last bite. “You really are the devil, you know.”
Apparently unconcerned, he replies evenly, “Aw, I don’t know. The devil wouldn’t let you leave once you fall out of love.”
My eyebrow jump halfway up my forehead. “I didn’t fall out of love. You fell out of love. I still love you; you’re the one who doesn’t love me.”
He seems to consider this briefly, then his gaze returns to mine. I only have time for the briefest flash of apprehension before he opens his mouth and shatters everything. “I raped Mia when I first met her. Repeatedly. At gunpoint, once. She was with Vince, she begged me to stop, she meant it, and I didn’t. I wanted to hurt her.”
My stomach rocks and bile rises up in my throat. I place a hand over my mouth just in case I can’t keep it in, but his horrible words sour my stomach more effectively than bad food or morning sickness.
I don’t know whether to thank him or punch him in the face.
Mental images rise unbidden to my mind, images of what that might look like. Aside from the gun, I don’t actually have to imagine that hard. When we finally gave him the threesome he was so interested in, Mia stipulated that while we could all play, he could only fuck her or she wouldn’t be able to handle it. So I watched him pin her down, watched her writhe under his body. She was no victim then, she was enjoying him, but as rough as he was with her, it did remind me of my earlier concerns about him and their sexual relationship. I knew sex between them would be more intense, but did it have to look so violent?
Since I still feel like throwing up, I place a steadying hand on my abdomen and take a deep breath, trying to will away the nausea. I close my eyes, but those flashes come back so I open them right back up.
I procreated with a rapist. Awesome. Where are the snappy onesies for that?
I can’t look at him, but I have to ask, “Were there others?”
His calm voice makes me more decisive; I definitely want to punch him in the face. “No. Only her. I thought it would be the quickest way to get the response I needed out of her so I could dispose of her without Vince being a pain in my ass. I assumed it would turn her on me more effectively than it did. I only intended it as a means to an end. It turned into something else.”
“Did you threaten her?” I flick a glance at his face, but it’s hard. It’s hard to look at the face I still vaguely longed for just a minute ago, because there’s no hint of yearning right now. A yearning to get away from him, maybe. “Did you make her lie for you?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I never asked her to lie about it. She was free to tell anyone what I did—outside of law enforcement, obviously.”
“This is very confusing,” I state, honestly.
“You suspected,” he returns, because he’s no idiot.
“Yes, but there’s suspicion, and then there’s outright admission. You’ve both spent four years telling me it was my imagination. We have children. Do I have to worry…?”
Thank God, his face contorts with disgust. “No, no—I would never hurt—No, that’s not…”
I cut him off with a nod. This is the last conversation I want to be having with the man whose child I’m carrying. Bile still burns in my churning gut. Normally I can roll with the punches, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in all my life. I feel like it changes everything, even the way I look at him and Mia, but now I’m not sure in what way. The love she bathes him in is too intense for her to be faking it. No one could pull that off for this many years. And why would she? However she managed it, she got away from him once; she was out from under his roof. She was with Vince. She came back voluntarily. She settled for sharing. She thanked me for sharing him with her.
“I don’t understand Mia’s brain,” I finally say.
Smiling faintly, with a hint of sadness, he says, “Neither do I. She’s a more loving person than I believed could exist.”
I don’t even know how this surprises me at this point. After all he’s done to her, I’m not even sure rape is the worst of it. That he told me communicates more effectively than anything else that he’s done with me, though. That’s where I told him I drew the line, and now he’s telling me the truth so I can let him go.
“Did the man I loved ever exist?” I ask, without looking at him.
I can feel his eyes on me, but he takes a minute before responding. “In part.”
I nod slightly, but there’s not much oomph behind it. “Why bring me into this? If it was always her, why did you ever bring me into this mess?”
“I don’t regret bringing you into the family, Meg. You’re a wonderful woman, an incredible mother, and I do love you—but I love you like I love Adrian, not like I love Mia. I crave Mia. I didn’t think I could ever have her. I thought if I took her, I would break her. I misinterpreted her softness for fragility, her acceptance for naiveté. I thought she wanted to move on and get away from me, and I thought that was probably for the best. I thought you more capable of handling me, and I thought we could be happy together. I was, for a while. But it’s no coincidence I’ve never married; I get bored with people or they wear out on me. It’s not your fault, it’s nothing you did or didn’t do. If I’d never met Mia, maybe we would’ve lasted longer. But knowing that exists, knowing I can have it, knowing I can feel that much... nothing else could ever satisfy me now.”
“If I would’ve said no to sharing, would this have still happened?”
“Oh, yes,” he says, without hesitation. “Our relationship would’ve ended a long time ago.”
It’s nothing I couldn’t have already guessed, but it does still feel like a little slap to the ego hearing him say it. I nod my head, trying to process all this. “Thank you for your honesty.”
“Better late than never,” he offers, before taking another sip of his coffee. Apparently finished, he pushes back his chair to stand. “If there’s anything else you want, just let me know.”
“What if Mia doesn’t want me living here?”
He pauses, then smiles slightly. “Mia would’ve shared me for the rest of her life to keep me from killing you. She’s not going to object to you living under her roof.”
Her roof.
I feel a little like I have whiplash, but Mateo is clearly already over all this. I’ll be damned if I’m left behind, lingering in a relationship that no longer exists.
“Am I allowed to date?”
“Of course. Adrian will have to check out anyone you’re interested in, obviously.” He pauses to look at my baby bump. “Might want to wait until after he’s born, unless you have your eye on Alec. Anyone outside the family could potentially target you to get to my heir.”
I can’t bite back a smile at the ridiculousness of it all. “You’re cool with me dating your brother now.”
Mateo shrugs, pushing his chair in. “I don’t think you’re his type, but you’re persuasive. It would make both our lives easier if you kept it in the family.”
“This is insane. You’re insane.”
He flashes me a little smile. “You knew that.”
It’s the strangest thing to feel good right now, but I like Mateo being honest with me. I like having back the friendly camaraderie that’s been missing between us for months. In the weirdest way, it feels like breaking up is the best thing we could have possibly done for our relationship. I’m no longer one more burden on his shoulders, there’s no longer pressure on him to feel something he doesn’t and uphold duties he’s no longer interested in.
I wish we would’ve had this conversation before they went to the Bahamas. I wish he would’ve confessed his truth sooner.
I wish I would’ve told Vince not to come back to the bakery, to move on with his life. I wish I would have told Mia to stay home that morning, just in case he didn’t listen.
Most of all, I hope Mateo never finds out about my involvement. He may be amicable now, but if he ever finds out I helped Vince take Mia away from him, I am fucked.