Chapter Sixteen
Meg
I’m starting to forget what it’s like to sleep next to Mateo.
He still comes in each night for the girls, but he leaves me as soon as they’re in bed. He goes to Mia. Every. Single. Night.
And that scares me. Not from a territorial place, but because no one has actually seen Mia since Vince died, and the mood of the house has gone completely dark. The same gloomy cloud that seemed to hang over the house when I was locked away in the dungeon hangs again, and it’s more pronounced when you’re above stairs. Everyone seems to understand Mateo’s in one of his dark places, and they accept it, they ride it out, because they’ve seen it before, and they know they’ll see it again.
I didn’t, though. I didn’t know.
I never saw it before, and I wasn’t on the outside when it happened. I was inside the darkness with him. It’s different inside. It’s different when you have him in the storm with you.
I’m a bystander now, and I don’t like it.
On Friday, I catch Elise in the kitchen making lunch. Mateo and Adrian are both out, and I feel a little excited for human interaction. I’ve considered going to Mia, since she’s really my only friend, but I’m too afraid. I’m not good with death, clearly. I’m not soft enough. I don’t know what to say to people.
Also I don’t want to see if he’s hurt her. That makes me the worst kind of coward, but every flutter of baby kicks in my womb spawns more fear. I’ve never been afraid of Mateo, but I’ve always known to be frightened of what he’s capable of. I’ve never been able to wholly believe the reassurances, that there’s a line he won’t cross, that he didn’t cross with Mia. Now each night that he spends in her bed I lie awake, consumed by it. Is there even a slim possibility she wants him there? I tell myself there is. She’s always had a soft spot for him. It’s just hard to imagine the feral, broken creature I last saw accepting his affection.
And it makes me want to throw up to consider the alternative.
It makes me want to leave, and I don’t know if I’m allowed to anymore.
Elise gives me a polite attempt at a smile as she stands at the counter, mixing ingredients in a bowl.
“Making lunch?” I ask, lightness I don’t feel manufactured in my tone.
“Adrian said they’ll be home for lunch today.”
“Oh.” My stomach shouldn’t drop. I shouldn’t dread the prospect of seeing Mateo.
“So I’m making something I know he likes,” she continues, answering my original question.
“It must be nice, huh?” I ask, again lightly, managing a smile. “Hitching your star to a man with a soul?”
Not even bothering to look surprised, Elise nods. “I highly recommend it.”
“Mateo doesn’t tell me when he’s coming home for lunch,” I tell her. I don’t know why I tell her that. It just spills out of my mouth. “He doesn’t tell me much of anything right now. I’ve never seen him like this before. I’ve never…” I pause, unsure how to put it into words. “You were here when he was with Mia before, right?”
Elise nods her head. She knows I already know that, because I asked her about it before, but she doesn’t look eager to offer me anything.
“What was it like?”
“Like this,” she says, flatly.
“This?” I question.
She indicates around the room, around the house, I guess. “The pall. The darkness. When Mateo’s in one of his maniacal fits, it weighs on all of us. I guess it’s a little different this time, since Vince isn’t storming around, adding his fury to the mix. But otherwise it’s the same.”
“Mia wasn’t happy then either?”
Elise practically glares at me for that one. “I already told you she wasn’t. It was exactly like this,” she says, and this time, I think to be mean. “Nobody saw her. She was locked away and kept in his bed every day. Eventually he’ll make her come to at least Sunday dinners again, only Vince won’t be there this time.” Elise shakes her head. “It’s exactly like it was. At least I don’t have to change the sheets now, I guess.”
That makes me want to cry.
I blame the baby, but the blame now probably lies with the baby’s father.
Maybe its mother.
I think we’re all to blame. Each and every one of us has, at some point, agreed to loyally serve this disaster of a man.
At the time we probably didn’t think we’d have to witness him beat one of our family members to death. That was maybe a little more than we realized we were signing on for. But that was our own naiveté. We should’ve known it was possible. Without violent reminders of his dark side, we let ourselves forget. He has different sides, like a person, so it’s hard to be vigilant and remember that even when he appears harmless, there’s a monster just beneath the surface.
I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to feel safe with him again.
I don’t know how to convince myself Mia’s safe.
Since Elise doesn’t like me anyway, I don’t linger in the kitchen. I was going to grab food, but I’m no longer hungry.
I decide to go to bed. Who cares if it’s afternoon? Francesca is back from her honeymoon, so she’s back at the bakery, and between the pregnancy and the events that have recently unfolded in life, my sleep pattern has gone to shit.
I’m worried about everything, and the only way to stop is to sleep, so I do.
---
I watch Mateo read to the girls about mermaid genies. I study him like there’s an exam afterward—on him, not the book. I watch for any sign that this is all an act, that he’s more of a liar than I ever realized. That he’s a monster with a pretty face and a nice suit, and maybe there’s nothing underneath.
But it doesn’t seem fake. When Lily wrings a little smile out of him with her bedtime story pop quiz, the affection looks real. The affection for my daughter. The affection for his daughter. It doesn’t happen as much now, because he’s completely distracted by Mia, but when he rubs my belly, his affection for the little person we created—it all feels so real.
I’ve never needed to live in a black and white world, but right now, I hate the color gray.
Once the story is finished, he kisses them both, lets them tackle him to give hugs. My heart aches, because he looks so much like the man I love; he just doesn’t feel like him once they’re gone.
Then again, I don’t get him once they’re gone anymore. Maybe he still feels the same and I just don’t know because he’s never with me. He’s on the other side of the house, possibly harming someone else.
I take the girls to bed, like always. Tuck them in and give goodnight kisses. Slowly, dread weighing on me every step of the way, I go back to our bedroom. I expect he’ll leave now. Not right this second; he’ll linger for a few minutes, ask about my day, and give me a kiss. But then he’ll be gone.
For now, he’s still in our bed. So I climb up there and lie down beside him.
“I feel like I should get you a change of address form,” I tell him, lightly.
“Hm?” he murmurs, glancing over at me.
“It doesn’t even feel like this is your bedroom anymore,” I clarify.
“I know,” he says, sighing. “I’m sorry. Mia is being more difficult than I hoped.”
“Well, you killed her boyfriend,” I state, reasonably. “With your bare hands. In front of her. So… you know. That’s not really a turn-on for most women.”
It usually wouldn’t bother me that this amuses him. That his eyes twinkle and he turns to wrap his arms around me, to pull me close. “Most women aren’t you, huh?”
I don’t fight his embrace, but I certainly don’t do anything to encourage it. I can’t get the icky doubts out of my head.
“I’m surprised she even lets you stay in her bed,” I remark.
He doesn’t respond to this. Now I feel worse.
I hear a trace of fear in my own voice as I ask, “Is she letting you?”
“Are you asking if I’m still sleeping with Mia?” he asks, for clarification.
“No.” My heart threatens to fly right out of my chest, my courage desperately attempting escape. “I’m asking if you’re hurting her.”
“I’ve hurt Mia plenty,” he says, carefully. “Far more than she’s ever deserved. I’m still hurting her. But not in the way you mean.”
That should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. He said the same thing last time. He wasn’t good to Mia, but he never did that. Elise says differently. My doubts say he’s probably lying. Mia’s feelings for him in the past back him up—or, I thought they did, but maybe they don’t. She did make a joke about having Stockholm syndrome once. Maybe she managed to love him despite what he did to her. Maybe it wasn’t the evidence of his innocence that I took it to be.
Maybe I misread the situation and started a life with someone based on misinformation. Maybe I was wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last, either.
Adrian was right about that.
“Am I still allowed to leave?”
It feels like the room suddenly freezes when those words slip out of my mouth. I had no intention to ask—I mean, I’ve wanted to, but I didn’t actually intend to.
Now they’re out there, and anxiety gathers in my chest. He’s still holding me, his grip still tight, but now it feels like a shackle. Now I can hardly breathe.
Finally he manages, “What?”
“Just hypothetically,” I add, trying not to sound as nervous as I feel.
“That’s not a question you ask hypothetically unless you’re thinking about it,” he states logically. “Are you?”
“I just…” I don’t know how to answer that. I’m not prepared. “You told me once I could leave if I wanted to. That the offer was open. That you could never hurt me. And I believed you. But I listened to you tell Mia just the other night she couldn’t leave. She never even accepted your death necklace or an engagement ring, and you told her you’d make her stay.”
“Mia made her own promises,” he tells me.
“Well, so did I. I took your ring. I’m carrying your child. But you still told me I could leave if I wanted to. When Mia tried, you killed her transport.”
“She didn’t really want to leave,” Mateo states, sounding vaguely irritated. “Vince wasn’t letting go. I don’t know what he said, she won’t tell me and I didn’t have—they were in the wrong room. But I’m confident he threatened her. Maybe threatened me. Mia wouldn’t have changed her mind on me like that without strong incentive.”
“Well, what if I did?”
His grip lets up and he spins me over to look at him, frowning at me. “I don’t want you to leave, Meg.”
He still isn’t answering me. “But if I wanted to, would you let me?”
I watch him work through this, piecing together a response for me. “If you wanted to leave me, I would try to convince you not to. But I would really hope you wouldn’t do that while I’m dealing with Mia in the same mindset, because trying to convince two women not to flee at the same time… well, that would be a lot to manage, even for me.”
“This isn’t what I wanted. I thought we’d all be happy,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d do this to her.”
“We would’ve been,” he says, a bit regretfully. “If Vince would’ve let go. We still will, she just needs time. I’ll get her back where we want her to be, she just needs time to mourn him.”
“What if you’re wrong?” I ask.
“I’ve bet literally everything that I’m not.”
I search his handsome face, wishing I could get inside his brain. “What if you made a bad bet?”
Something that’s not quite a smile plays around his lips, tinged with sadness. “Well, then maybe I lose it all.”
I shake my head, subtly moving out of his embrace. “Why make a bet with odds like that, Mateo? You had so much already.”
I hate the realization that maybe I got rid of one gambler and replaced him with another. Mateo doesn’t just bet with money and play with cards; he bets with hearts and plays with lives.
“Because I had to. I have to know,” he answers.
“Know what?”
He sighs heavily, as if burdened by his own bullshit. “If I can rebuild the good things I will inevitably break.”