Chapter Twenty Three
Vince
When I get home, Carly seems to be in a better mood. Immediately upon seeing me, she wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a lingering kiss.
“Well, hello,” I say, leaning my forehead against hers.
“Hello right back. I have an idea.”
“What’s your idea?”
“Why don’t we go see Laurel tonight? We’re allowed to leave, right? We have to stay here, but we’re allowed to go out. We don’t have to remain immersed in the culture of Crazytown all night.”
“Yeah, we’re allowed to go out. We can’t right now, though. We have to get ready for dinner.”
Carly backs up, pointing at a garment bag on the bed. “Is that what this is for? The maid brought it up, she said it was for dinner, but I assumed she meant Easter dinner. Like, a gift.”
“He gave you a fucking dress?” I demand, walking over and unzipping the bag, looking inside. This brings back shitty memories. Asshole knew it would.
“I won’t wear it if you’re bothered by it,” Carly assures me.
“He shouldn’t have sent it in the first place. He knows this pisses me off. He did this shit with Mia.”
She nods, like that makes sense. “He’s trying to get under your skin.”
Yeah, and it’s fucking working. I hate when he does shit like this.
“I’m not going to wear it,” Carly says, grabbing the bag and zipping it back up. “I have my own clothes. I don’t need to wear this. No biggie.” Before I can get worked up, she hangs the dress up on the closet door. Then she comes over to take my hand, drags me over to the bed, and tugs me on top of her. “I missed you today,” she tells me, raking her fingers through my hair.
My ire drops a level. “Oh yeah?”
“Mm hmm,” she says, looping her arms around my neck and tugging me down for a kiss. “How did everything go with your… the burial thing?”
“Okay, I guess. I made arrangements.” This is intensely unsexy, so I roll off her and just lie back on the bed. Carly curls up beside me, resting her head on my arm and running her hand absently across my chest.
“How are you feeling about all this? We’ve been so caught up in your cousin, we haven’t had a chance to talk about it.”
“I don’t know. I’m not really feeling anything. I know that sounds heartless, but… I don’t have emotional attachments to that man. I just hate how much I remind myself of him sometimes, if I’m being honest. Both of them, Mateo’s dad, my dad. They were both garbage, and I have not always been a better man than either one of them.”
“Give me an example.”
“Dom is an example,” I state. I don’t immediately go on, but Carly doesn’t press. “My dad… You haven’t met my sister Cherie yet, but she’s my half-sister. She was conceived the same way Dom was.”
“Oh. Shit. That’s a hell of a family tradition to carry on.”
“Yeah,” I agree, dimly. “Not one I expected myself to carry on, I’ll tell you that.”
“Well, I still think you’re a great man,” she tells me. “You’ve made some mistakes, but I think you’ve made a ton of progress since then. Look at how you were with Mia yesterday. You took responsibility for your actions. You were sorry for the pain you caused her. Would your father have expressed any of that?”
I roll my eyes at the thought of Ben Morelli being sorry for anything. “No. My dad was a dick. I guess he crashed Mia’s wedding and acted like an asshole. Called her a whore.”
“He sounds fantastic,” she says, dryly. “Too bad he won’t be at Easter dinner.”
I hesitate to bring this up, though I’m not entirely sure why. Things got a little rocky yesterday and I don’t want it to come off like I’m trying to buy off her feelings, but since she’s so much fonder of me today, I decide to bring it up. “You know, for all that my dad was an asshole, I’m his only heir.”
“That sounds important. Do you come with a castle?”
She’s joking, but I’m not. “Sort of. He has a house in Vegas, not quite as big as this one, but… big. I guess that’ll be mine now.”
“Is moving to Vegas something you want?”
“Technically, I could do more than just move there. I don’t know how well it would be received, but the way things are run in my family… eldest sons take over when the head of a family dies.”
Carly does not look remotely excited by the direction of this conversation. “Oh. Is that something you want?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I think I’d just get myself killed if I tried. I don’t have a team of my own to back me. I know a couple people in Vegas from when I went there with Mia last year, but no one who would want me in charge. My cousin Rafe would probably fucking kill me. I don’t even know if he wants to take over, but he’s the one that—”
Carly nods. “Possibly date-raped Mia, yeah, I remember you mentioning him.”
“Yeah, so he doesn’t especially like me. Plus, you know, if I wanted to take over any kind of leadership role there, I really should have been out there learning the ropes, not in Chicago. I did not follow any kind of path to leadership.”
“To be honest, I would hate that. I like our life the way it is. I mean, I wouldn’t object to maybe moving from the apartment to a house, but I hate these mob guys. I don’t want you to be one again. If that’s not something you want, I say let it go.”
“That’s what I was thinking. I’ll just cash in whatever can be liquidated—sell the house and belongings, take whatever money he has, and leave. We will have to go to Vegas to settle everything after this goddamn funeral, though.”
“No one’s going to kill you on sight, right?”
I smile faintly. “Hope not. That would suck.”
“Maybe a little. I’d have to go all gun moll and take out some mobster assholes.”
I move my arm, snaking it under her and drawing her closer. “Aw, you’d avenge me?”
“Of course,” she says, snuggling close to me. “I kind of prefer you staying alive though. I’d rather drink milkshakes with you and Laurel than go after your murderer. That sounds like a real drag.”
“Plus, if I die, I’m never going to find out which mug she picks out for me this year.”
Carly smiles up at me. “See? You have so much to live for.”
A little more seriously, I tell her, “As long as I have you, I do.”
Smiling tenderly, she brings a hand up to caress my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
---
I do not go to pre-dinner drinks. Carly and I are running a little late getting ready anyway, but to be frank, I just have no fucking desire to sit in the study and drink with the assholes who have killed or stolen every shred of love or happiness I’ve ever had in my life. All I want to do is keep my new source of love and happiness far away from them and survive this week of Hell.
Since it is Easter weekend, we couldn’t arrange the funeral until Monday. It’s Wednesday now and we’re on steady ground, so we only have to survive five more days. That’s not so many days, right?
We make our way to the dining room, hand-in-hand, just in time for the drinks to be poured. It’s not a Sunday or a holiday, so not everyone is here, but I see right away the seating arrangement has changed drastically since I lived here. Mateo used to head the table with Adrian at the foot. Mateo used to be flanked by Mia and Meg. Mateo remains at the head of the table, of course, with Mia to his left, but now Adrian sits on Mateo’s other side across from Mia, in Meg’s old spot. Meg sits down near the foot of the table now, across from Alec.
Since Mateo’s a dick, there are exactly two empty spots for us tonight—one beside Adrian, one beside Mia.
Carly drops into the seat next to Mia so I don’t have to.
Of course, that puts me right next to Adrian and looking directly at Mia and Carly while I eat. I slide Mateo a look to let him know he’s a dick. He smiles.
“This is cozy,” I remark.
“It’ll be even cozier Sunday,” Adrian replies.
“Where’s your wife?” Carly asks, pleasantly enough. “I figured she’d be at dinner.”
Adrian flicks a glance at Carly. “She decided to stay with the kids tonight.”
“We all got to spend some time together today,” Mia announces, looking quite pleased with life. “We were discussing Disney World.”
Adrian heaves a sigh. “I think I’d rather kill a guy than hear more about Disney World.”
“I don’t think, I know,” Mateo agrees.
“It’s going to be great,” Mia informs them. “You’re both going to love it.”
“Adrian can love it for me,” Mateo tells her. “I’ll live vicariously through the 8,000 pictures you’re sure to send me.”
“On the first day,” Adrian adds.
Mia raises her eyebrows innocently. “It didn’t go so well last time you let me out of your sight for a whole week. That’s all I’m saying.”
Mateo regards her with a dry look. “Yes, well, Adrian wouldn’t send you back with the same kind of souvenir Vince did.”
Adrian snorts. “That’s a safe bet.”
Carly stares at the table, grimacing like she can’t believe they’re joking about this.
Seeing we’re both uncomfortable, Mia changes the subject. “Anyway, Carly gave me a cute Easter craft idea to do with the babies. I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep Roman still long enough to do it, but I definitely want to do it with Dom. Little carrot footprints.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Mateo deadpans.
“They’ll be cute,” she says, leaning back as Maria delivers her salad. “Thank you, Maria.”
Maria nods and drops a third salad off for Adrian before heading back to the kitchen.
“So, is Adrian your new second wife?” I ask, since he has Meg’s old place at the table.
“Mia’s second husband,” Adrian states, no humor in his voice. “Should’ve kept your cool; could’ve been you.”
Even though she mostly avoids doing so, Mia addresses me. “He’s joking, obviously. Dante dubbed Adrian my second husband—all the work, none of the perks—and it kinda stuck. Everyone but Elise is in on the running joke.”
“Yes, we don’t tell that joke in front of Elise,” Adrian agrees.
I nod. “Make sure to bring it up in front of Elise. Got it.”
Mateo takes the reins, since apparently dinner is off to too pleasant a start for his liking. “Nah, Vince never liked sharing, did you, Vince?”
It’s so easy for him to water the seeds of irritation he planted so long ago. “We were never sharing,” I remind him. “Sharing implies things like knowledge and consent. It’s just called cheating without both of those.”
“Oh, right.” Mateo nods. “And what was it called when she tried to leave you, but you wouldn’t let her?”
I cock my head, as if in consideration. “I believe you call that love. That’s what you did to the last love of your life, right? That’s why she turned on you? Guess I could’ve learned from your mistakes, but hey, I like to make my own.”
Beth doesn’t seem to be as sore a spot anymore, because he seems more amused and less annoyed than I was hoping for. His hand moves to cover Mia’s, but he keeps his gaze on me as he states, “There’s only one love of my life, and she’s sitting right here.”
It shouldn’t sting, but it does. It’s not pain, like it would have been before Carly. It feels like more of an insult, I guess, if I’m being honest. He stole my favorite toy and added insult to injury by having more fun with it than I ever did.
Mia and I never wanted the same things. I see that now, but I couldn’t back then. She clearly likes this asshole and I never wanted to be like him. The life she has with him is the life she wants, with his domineering treatment and his shit-stirring ways. I like the peace of living in Connecticut with Carly, tucked away from dangerous, powerful men. I love her idea of forming our own family, bringing Laurel to Connecticut, maybe luring Cherie out there. We can keep the pieces of our past that we like and build the rest from scratch.
There’s still a competitive sliver of me that’s annoyed Mateo got Mia, but I realize we’re probably all much happier for it in the long run. Maybe Carly was right; maybe everything does happen for a reason.
My gaze flits to Mia across the table. Her head is bowed, her eyes downcast. She didn’t move her hand, it still rests beneath his, but she feels badly, since he doesn’t.
I don’t want her to feel badly anymore.
“Well, as long as Mia feels the same way, then I’m happy for you,” I say, simply.
Mia’s head snaps up, her wide blue eyes meeting mine. Clearly, she was not expecting that. I wasn’t either, but fuck it. The smile that follows feels damn good. Tentative at first, then wider. Grateful.