Chapter Five
Mia
“Is it hard?”
Vince is hunched quite sexily at the bar, looking down at his drink glass. Now he turns his head to look at me, since I’ve asked a question.
“Is what hard?” he questions.
“Living in the real world—not having the trappings of Morelli life? It’s been a while, but I’ve always imagined it would be really hard to give all that up now that I’m used to it. You were born to it, so it must’ve been quite an adjustment.”
His head bobs slightly, almost noncommittally. “It wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be,” he supplies. “I always thought about the freedoms, never the limitations. Grass is always greener on the other side, after all.”
I roll my eyes, nodding in agreement as I take a drink of my martini. “Totally.”
“It was little things in the beginning. Like, did you know you’re not actually allowed to have alcohol until you’re 21?”
I bust up laughing. It’s not that funny, but the alcohol is already moving through my veins, and I’m in a good mood because he’s not heavy, needy, jealous Vince tonight, he’s light, fun, charming, attractive Vince. It doesn’t matter, I’m obviously happily on the inside of a relationship with his least favorite person in the world, but there are worse things than spending an hour drinking with a sexy ex. Especially when he’s being nice to you, even though you don’t completely deserve it.
He smiles like he enjoys making me laugh, even if I am already a little tipsy. “So, yeah, that was a surprise for a while. I went from being treated like an adult all the time to suddenly being treated like an actual adolescent.”
“Go figure.”
“Jerks,” he agrees.
“What about on the lady front?” I ask, brave because of the alcohol. Gesturing up and down his body, I add, “You’ve obviously got all of this going on, but you can’t really Morelli trap girls if you’re not living the Morelli lifestyle anymore.”
“Right?” He widens his eyes slightly, as if surprised. “It turns out stalking is frowned upon in the outside world.”
I shake my head with mock solemnity. “That’s my fault. I should’ve given you a heads-up.”
“You completely fucked up my expectations of women,” he informs me.
Laughing a little, I ask, “Did you really stalk someone?”
“Barely. She overreacted.”
I burst into laughter again. “Oh, man. I want that story.”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Maybe someday.”
I take another drink of my martini. “Are you staying in town long? You should stay at the mansion. Your old room is untouched, and since we’d be under the watchful eye of the cameras, we could probably hang out. Mateo doesn’t let me have male friends anymore.”
“That’s because he’s not an idiot,” he remarks dryly.
“Adrian tries to be my friend sometimes, but Elise won’t let him.”
Now he grins. “That’s because she’s not an idiot.”
“Well, you’re not afraid of Mateo; you can stay at the mansion while you’re in town and I can get my Vince fix.”
Shaking his head, he smiles faintly and looks down at his drink. “As much as I’d love to be your temporary plaything, I’m pretty sure I’m not welcome at the mansion anymore.”
“Not plaything, playmate. I think it would be okay,” I say, though recalling Mateo and Meg being a little bitchy to each other this morning, I wonder what kind of mood he’ll be in. Of course, Mateo’s spending the night in my bed tonight, so I can make sure to go the extra mile and put him in a good mood. Since Vince is coming to dinner and we’re getting along so well, Mateo will probably be in the mood to remind me who I belong to. Anticipation and arousal swirl within me briefly at the thought.
Mm, I miss him.
Drawing my cell phone out of my purse, I open up my messages and send him an emoji heart. Nothing more, just a little heart.
“What are you doing?” Vince asks.
“I think I’m drunk already.”
He snatches my phone, frowning at the display. I already closed the app, but he opens it back up to see what I sent and now I’m frowning, suddenly remembering what it was like with him. I’m lulled by the casual, lighthearted fun here at the bar, but the reality of us sucked. It wasn’t like this at all, it was bitter, strained, and shot full of holes by the man I just drunk-texted a silly heart to.
Vince puts my phone face-down on the counter, glancing at his glass again. He takes a sip, and I realize it’s the first one he’s taken in a while. I am putting a significantly bigger dent in my drink than he is, and that’s not how this used to work. Of course, he did drive, and he probably isn’t used to drinking as much now that he doesn’t have family dinners at the mansion.
“How does that all work?” He doesn’t sound angry, but the lightheartedness we had just a moment ago is no longer present in his tone.
“My relationship?” He nods. I’m not sure I want to tell him about this, because I’m trained not to mention Mateo unless I want to piss him off, but I remind myself it isn’t like that now. “It’s usually easier than you might think. In some ways it’s harder. It’s really just like any relationship—there are easy patches and hard patches. And because our relationship extends to three people and not just two, it shifts. Sometimes things have been really hard between me and Mateo, but they were okay with him and Meg, and okay with me and Meg. Other times, like right now, things are great with me and Mateo, but then that makes things a little harder on me and Meg. I mean, it wouldn’t, if we did everything right all the time, but no one does everything right all the time. Sometimes I hog him. He always lets me. And it’s not really fair to Meg. That’s why I brought her some cupcakes today.”
“Do you think cupcakes would suffice? She seems pretty mad at you.”
I shrug, grabbing my drink and bringing it to my lips. This martini is strong. I blink a few times, trying to focus. “Um, no, probably not, but it’s worth a shot, right? It’s always weird for me when they get back from a couples weekend, too. I miss him, even though it’s only a couple days, and I don’t love thinking about them together in some tropical paradise. He tends toward the tropical paradises. And I still hear from him, so I assume she still hears from him when he’s with me, but I don’t know, he usually keeps that stuff kind of separate for me. He knows I have a jealous nature.”
Nodding, eyebrows rising, he says, “Yeah, I’m honestly surprised you can make that work. You were way more possessive with me.”
“I know. Even at the end it made me angry to think of you with anyone else. I don’t know why it works with him, but it does.”
“Does it still make you angry to think of me with someone else?” He only sounds vaguely curious, so I’m not alarmed.
“No, not really. I mean, it’s a little weird, I guess. But I really want you to be happy, and I don’t think you’d be happy alone all your life. You crave love too much for that. I want you to have that. I’m sure I’d dislike your girlfriend if I ever met her, because old habits die hard and that’s just who I am, but I still want you to have it. I’m happy in my relationship. It would be super shitty if I only wanted us to be happy and not you.”
He doesn’t seem offended by this, but to be honest, I’m starting to get so loopy I can’t be bothered to watch him for reactions. I don’t want to hurt his feelings or trigger anything, but man, it’s no fun walking on eggshells. And he’s being surprisingly easy-going about all this; maybe he’s just grown up.
After a minute, he asks, “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if he would’ve let you go with me?”
“No,” I say honestly, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t. He never would have. He needs me. He loves me. I’m not his pawn anymore, Vince. You only knew what it was like before—your last memory of us was…” I scowl, remembering exactly what it was. “Oh, God, that was awful. That was a nightmare. And he was so mean to me that night.”
“Yeah, he was,” he murmurs, lowly. “I felt so guilty leaving you after that. I thought he was going to chew you up and spit you out. His true colors came out and… you didn’t even kiss him back when he kissed you.”
“Well, he was being mean.” Understatement of the century, but I don’t enjoy thinking about all that. Flicking my gaze up to meet Vince’s, I tell him seriously, “I was so happy you weren’t dead. He let me believe he killed you at first, and it was so horrible. It was the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced. I was in hell. I wouldn’t forgive him. It was so bad. We were all miserable.”
Vince watches me. “Yeah, I wondered about that. When I first made the decision to come here, I wasn’t even sure you knew I was alive.”
I nod, my head feeling so heavy. “He had to tell me. I wouldn’t forgive him. I wasn’t getting past it.”
He smiles softly, like it feels good to hear that. I guess it probably does. I was so awful to him. Now a guilty swell of tenderness threatens to overtake me.
“I thought you died thinking I didn’t love you,” I add, oversharing. “And it was the worst feeling. I was tormented with regret. I just wanted to be able to undo all of it and make you alive again. I just wanted you to be there in the morning making me eggs like it was just a fight, and I thought…” Absurd tears burn behind my eyes, remembering how awful that had been, how helpless and lost I felt then. Even though he’s sitting right here next to me, clearly alive and well, I can still feel it like it’s real.
Vince climbs off his stool and closes the small distance between us, wrapping his arms around me. I take the comfort and hug him back, resting my face against his chest, lost in the painful memories.
“I’m so glad it was just one of his tricks. I’m so grateful he let you out.” Pulling away from his embrace, I tilt my head to smile up at him. “It’s kind of funny, huh? When we first met, you told me how much you wanted out, but that it would never happen. Bet you never thought I’d be your ticket out.”
He still has his arms around me, holding me close, but I don’t mind. He smiles down at me tenderly, shaking his head. “No, I certainly never thought that would end up being the case.”
My body is so heavy. I lean it against his muscular chest again. He’s solid and reliable, and his arms feel so good around me. I’m so sleepy. How long have we been here? I never told anyone I’d be late for dinner.
Vince shifts my weight in his arms, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He brings it up behind my back, so he can pull out some cash while still supporting me. He drops some money on the counter and tucks his wallet away, securing his arm more firmly around my waist.
“I think you’ve had enough. Let’s get you out of here.”
“That’s the strongest martini I’ve ever had,” I tell him, unsteady as he helps me off the stool. “I’m glad you don’t hate me, Vince. I would be so sad if you hated me.”
This makes him smile, but only a little. “I don’t hate you, but I still have a lot of rage. Not at you, just… in my DNA, I think.”
“You don’t seem at all ragey,” I inform him.
“Your little heart text message made me a little ragey,” he admits.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Frowning, I say, “Wait, no I’m not. I’m not sorry. Habit. I’m allowed to send those now.” I nearly miss a step, but Vince’s firm grip keeps me upright. I’m starting to feel woozy, and I shouldn’t feel like this. I only had one martini, and I didn’t even get to finish it. “Vince, I don’t feel good.”
“I know,” he says, reassuringly. “We’re leaving.”
“No, but I feel… I feel…” I’m dizzy. As we walk to the door, everything tilts like we’re in a funhouse. “Vince, something’s wrong.”
He keeps walking. “Your drink was strong.”
“No, not this strong.” I’m starting to feel a little panicky, thinking of how Mateo won’t drink in public. It’s no secret I’m his, but now that we’re on good terms with Salvatore’s family it hasn’t been a pressing issue. Sure, there are still people who would like to see Mateo dead, but would it really benefit them to kill me? He’s not with me tonight, so no one could’ve been trying to kill him instead, like when Meg got shot.
I look over at Vince, but he doesn’t look at all alarmed, at all confused that somehow one martini knocked me on my ass.
“Vince?”
He escorts me back out to the car. My vision is starting to fog and my stomach is pitching, like I’m going to be sick. “Vince, did you… did you have eyes on my drink the whole time?”
Vince looks my way, shaking his head. Not in answer to my question, but at me. There’s a trace of pity in his eyes. “Oh, Mia.”
It’s not what he says; it’s the way he says it that suddenly makes my blood run cold.
Opening the passenger side door, he pushes the seat back into a reclining position and helps me inside.
“Vince, what did you do?” I whisper, trying to focus on his face as my vision wavers.
“I learned,” he states, leaning in, so he’s close enough for me to focus on his face. “I learned from you, Mia.”
“Learned what?” I manage.
He smiles then—not his cute, heart-stopping smirk, but something more menacing. “How to lie.”