Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

“We shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he states. “This is bullshit.”

“Karmic retribution,” I mutter. “We certainly wronged Vince enough when he was a part of our lives.”

“I’m sick of karma,” he states, folding his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. “I should be in control here. You’re my fiancée. You’re going to be my wife. You should only be having my babies. That’s not a lot to fucking expect, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” I agree. “And I’m sorry, but that’s not how it happened. It’ll never happen again. Every baby we have after this will be one thousand percent yours. It’s not like we can only do this once. You hate condoms; I’m going to get pregnant again eventually.”

His talkative streak has apparently come to an end, because he doesn’t answer. He keeps staring at the ceiling. I don’t want to fight, so I curl up against him and drape an arm across his torso.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” I tell him softly. “I know this is among the last things you, personally, want to deal with. And I’m really sorry. But it’s not the end of the world. I love you so much; I want to spend my life with you.”

He doesn’t even move his arms to wrap one around me, so I clearly have not sufficiently sold this.

I burrow in closer, dropping kisses along his muscular chest. “And it would be extraordinarily generous of you to let this go for me,” I add.

His lips quirk at this. “That’s adorable, but don’t try to manipulate me; it won’t work.”

I flash him a little smile. “Is it manipulating if it’s true? I would be super impressed. Putting aside your differences with Vince and raising this baby as your own? Now, that’s super sexy. Also not murdering Vince while doing that? My panties just disintegrated. It’s crazy.”

He sighs, but he finally moves his arms, wrapping them around me and gazing down at me with those sexy brown eyes of his. “I hate when you give me boundaries.”

“I haven’t given you any,” I tell him, even though I sorta have. We can pretend I didn’t. “Think of this is my wish list. Grant them or don’t, it’s obviously your call, I’ll still love you either way, but I would be incredibly appreciative if you did. I’ve been tormented enough for one lifetime. Let’s not do that again.”

“I don’t want to torment you. I just don’t want you to want to have Vince’s baby. I thought I was clear of this shit four years ago.”

“I don’t want to have Vince’s baby,” I tell him. “It has nothing to do with Vince. I only wanted to have his baby then because I thought he was dead and I’m sentimental.”

“I wish I would’ve killed him,” he states.

“No, you don’t,” I say, resting my head on his chest.

“I don’t think you comprehend how much I hate him.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. You won every time you had to fight him.”

“Apparently not,” he mutters. He misses a couple of beats, then tells me, “I think he and Joey were in on the plan to take me out together. Joey wouldn’t have come up with that on his own. Joey never hated me that much.”

My stomach sinks. No one has mentioned this in years, and I never thought I would have to hear about it again, to be honest. I have no idea how to respond to this.

Now he looks at me and I can’t read him. “What do you think?”

I thought I was beyond this, but I break into a cold sweat. Why is he asking me this? Why now? It’s not possible he knew that I knew, right? There’s no way he kept that up his sleeve for four years, on the off-chance he ever needed leverage over me?

Well, he probably would do that. But not about this. He would’ve been furious at me, knowing I knew and didn’t tell him. He would’ve seen that as a betrayal—and if Joey isn’t a sufficient example of what he does to people who betray him, Beth sure is.

“I don’t really think about that,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It was an unpleasant time. It makes my stomach hurt to even think about anyone wanting to hurt you.”

“But do you think Vince would’ve done it? Do you think he would’ve tried to have me killed?”

“I don’t know, Mateo. Why do we have to talk about this?”

He keeps pressing. “Would you have covered for him?”

“Of course not.” At least this is true. “You know I wouldn’t have. You know if I ever thought there was a chance you were in danger, I would’ve told you.”

He nods, still watching me. “What did he say to you that night? How did he convince you to stay?”

I couldn’t be less comfortable with this line of questioning. I don’t know if they’re disconnected questions or he’s got a specific point he’s gearing up to, but knowing him, it’s the latter, and this can’t be leading to anything good.