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Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Page 12

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I roll my eyes. “I am far from an angel.”

“Compared to me?” he asks, amused. “Sure you are.”

“Well, that’s not an average comparison. You’re exceedingly…” I pause, searching for a nice way to put it. I come up with nothing, so I look for him to save me, but he merely cocks his head, amused, waiting for me to go on. “Sexy,” I finally finish.

He chuckles, flipping over the drink menu. “Nice save.”

It’s easy to forget all the bad he’s done on a daily basis, but the lesson of last time I overestimated his goodness still lingers in my mind. He’s more Prince Charming than villain to me right now, here on this beach, but he can flip his evil on like a switch and transform into the stuff my nightmares are made of.

He just doesn’t have a reason to anymore.

So I forget sometimes.

I am cruel. Wake the fuck up, Mia.

Nope.

I’ll keep my dreams intact, thank you very much.

Chapter Two

Vince

I knew Meg saw me at the bakery.

Well, not at the bakery; I’m not a fucking moron. But across the street, watching her close up, seeing if she was alone.

I was told Mia worked every Saturday, but here it is, Saturday, and that’s definitely not Mia. Maybe she took today off since it’s her birthday weekend. I probably should’ve considered that when I planned this, but I figured since today isn’t her actual birthday I’d be okay.

When Meg saw me across the street, she looked just long enough to alarm me. I waited for her to grab her phone, to rat me out to Mateo or Adrian, to tell them I’m back in town and bring the hounds of hell after my ass.

But she didn’t. She got in the car and prepared to leave like nothing was amiss.

Now she sits at the end of the parking lot with her turn signal on. Instead of pulling out, she just watches me.

When she finally turns, I follow her.

This is about as off-plan as I can get, but I have a feeling about it. Maybe I’m wrong. This plan is all risk, anyway. There are about a million ways it could go bad. I just don’t care.

Meg pulls off into a strip mall down the road, and I follow her in. I roll up into the parking spot beside her. It’s a rainy, chilly day, even for March in Chicago, but when she rolls down her window, I roll mine down, too.

“What are you doing here, Vince?”

I haven’t heard her voice in so long. I realize I kinda missed her. Meg’s a little crazy, but she’s still fun to have around.

She doesn’t seem shocked to see me alive right now, so that’s something, I guess. If she knows, I imagine Mia probably does, too.

“Just saying hi,” I toss out, watching her for a reaction.

Meg rolls her eyes. “No one comes back from the dead to say hi. Are you here for him or her?”

I forgot just how take-no-prisoners Meg could be. I glance at her hand on the steering wheel, still wearing Mateo’s engagement ring. Only an engagement ring though—no wedding band. He never married her.

“Where’s your fiancé?” I ask, searching for a reaction.

She’s Meg, so she gives me nothing. She smiles, but it’s so chill we could be friends. “Him, then?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not here for him.”

“Mia?”

I don’t want to say yes, but every instinct I have compels me to slowly nod my head.

Meg nods and smiles, gazing out the windshield of her car. “Good ol’ Crack Nipples.”

I frown in confusion. “What?”

Glancing back at me, she says, “Nothing. She’s not here this week. Mateo took her to the Bahamas for her birthday.”

My eyebrows rise at her calm as she says this.

Then she adds, “She works at the bakery every Saturday. Closes up by herself. The blind spot behind the building is still there. Mia will be working next week.” She puts her finger on the window button. She’s about to roll it back up, but she pauses to add, “You hurt him, you die for real this time.”

I nod my head in understanding and watch as Meg rolls up her window, puts her car in reverse, and leaves.

Huh.

Didn’t expect that.

Chapter Three

Mia

Isabella stands by my bed with her hair brush in hand, waiting for me. I pull on some pajamas and pad across the soft carpet, hopping up on the bed and patting it for her to join me. Handing me the brush, she climbs up on the bed and turns her back to me.

“I bet it was so much fun,” she tells me.

I run the brush through her hair, parting it in three sections. “It was really hot,” I tell her. “The sun down there is no joke.”

“I wanna go there someday.”

“We’ll take you. We’ve gotta be due for another family vacation soon. Maybe this summer.”



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