Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Finally I give up and pull out my cell phone, shooting Mateo a text. “Hey, my mom is driving me nuts about giving her a tour of the house. Is it okay if I show her around?”

He responds pretty quickly, “Sure. Adrian and I will be home soon.”

“Can I ask another smallish favor?”

“Depends. What are you prepared to offer me?” he shoots back.

I smile indulgently, typing back, “I’ll consider marrying you?”

“You’ll marry me regardless,” the smug jerk sends back. “What do you need?”

I glance up at my mother, then turn my attention back to the phone. I grimace to myself as I type, “My mom is going through a bit of a rough patch financially. Any chance we could give her like a thousand dollars so she doesn’t get evicted from her apartment?” As soon as I hit send, I add, “I hate asking for money, I just feel bad.”

“My money is your money,” he replies, without delay. “I’ll send Adrian with an envelope when we get home.”

“Thank you, you’re the best!” I attach a string of emojis that will annoy the hell out of him.

Chapter Thirty One

Mia

“Is this what they call a drawing room? Isn’t that what they call them in fancy houses like these?”

Meg clasps her hands together, nodding like the perfect tour guide. “Sort of. In the strictest sense of the word, the blue drawing room is our drawing room. Because it’s where we go if we’re not cooking when the men drink before or after dinner, depending on guests. Drawing rooms were a thing back when sexism was normal, but once it’s dinner time in this house it may as well be the 1600’s. We mostly just refer to the rooms by color though—red, blue, gold, yellow, and we all have sitting rooms in our bedrooms, too. Our bedrooms are like separate apartments. Except Mia’s,” Meg points out, gesturing back at me. “She’s in Mateo’s room now so that’s the largest wing. It’s almost like a little house of its own over there. The sitting room is separate, it has its own bedrooms, and then of course her bedroom.”

Mom turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Are we going to see that one?”

I shake my head. “No, not that one. Mateo doesn’t allow tours of his room. I didn’t see it my first time here, either.”

“I bet you were blown away the first time you saw it,” she remarks.

My lips thin and I offer a polite nod. Of course the first time I found myself in Mateo’s wing, I was not remotely interested in the layout or décor.

Meg faintly grimaces, shuddering.

I cock my head to the side and shoot her a questioning look.

She shakes her head, shakes it off, and proceeds on the tour.

“Anyway, the servants’ quarters are much cozier. I liked to hang out in here back when I was a maid. The house is so big, it can lack coziness, but the servants’ quarters feel more like a home.”

My mom’s eyes grow wider. “You have a whole house for servants? You used to be a maid?” Her gaze drops to Meg’s stomach. “Did you marry up?”

“Almost,” Meg says, brightly. “Mateo never actually married me, but we were engaged for a while.”

I’m waving my hands, trying to get her attention to stop her, but to no avail. Now my shoulders drop as my mom turns back to look at me like this must be news to me.

“Oh. Oops,” Meg says, flashing me a grimace. “Sorry, I assumed…”

“She was engaged to your fiancé?”

“Yeah.” I really don’t want to try to explain sister wives to my mom. She’ll either tell me I’m insane and I need to shove Meg out of the way, or reassure me that as rich as Mateo is, she totally understands me turning the other cheek so he can bang my friend. Both responses are exhausting and at least mildly annoying.

“Is that his baby?” Mom asks, indicating Meg’s stomach. “Are you both… pregnant with his babies?”

I have an honest-to-God hand-to-forehead moment now. I should’ve realized bringing Meg along on the tour would be a bad idea; I just didn’t want the awkward silences as we toured the house and I know Meg’s mouth never stops running. Should’ve probably considered what might come spilling out of it.

Thankfully, like a beautiful angel from the heavens, Adrian comes walking up the hall. I abandon my mom with Meg to meet him halfway. Leaning in close, I murmur, “Tell me Mateo needs me. Save me from this God-awful tour.”

Smiling faintly, he says, “And leave Meg and your mom prowling the house alone? I don’t think so.”

“Please.” I grasp his lapels dramatically. “I beg of you. Take pity on me.”

Instead of taking pity on me, he reaches across my arm and draws a white envelope out of his suit pocket. “The money you requested, you poor unfortunate damsel.”