Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Every receptor in my brain grabs a red flag and waves it frantically. My stomach twists with anxiety for more reasons than I have time to process. The leading reason, obviously, that I am currently pregnant with someone else’s baby. Not something he was thrilled about, obviously. Being that I’m a normal human being, I assumed he had already included that issue in his rundown when he was processing the disaster of my pregnancy. I assumed one of the reasons he didn’t want me to have this baby was exactly that—he knew it would make me feel a certain tie to the Vince, and Vince is maybe the last man alive Mateo wants me having ties to.

Right now I experience a moment of mild horror as I realize maybe he didn’t think of that. Whatever his reasons for not wanting me to have this child, however flawed I think they may have been, the valid one didn’t occur to him.

My heart gallops and my brain races, trying to keep up. I have to lie and I’m a terrible liar. He sees through people who can lie.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. I’m shaking my head with too much vehemence. I can feel it. I can see it on his face. My heart races faster, but I can’t stop shaking my head, like if I just shake it enough, he’ll believe me. “No, I don’t think that.”

“It’s what you just said,” he states.

“I misspoke. I mean, of course there can be a connection if it was already—” I cut myself off, realizing that’s not better. Vince and I have had an emotional connection in the past and apparently my part-robot fiancé doesn’t understand how feelings work in this instance. I read that completely wrong. I assumed part of why I’ve been sharing with Meg for four years despite Mateo’s feelings for me was their parental bond.

The expression on his face doesn’t change, but his eyes are chilly with in-progress calculation.

“When you and I have a child, that will… that will feel special. But only because we love each other. Right? I mean, you’ve said you wanted to have a baby with me, that you would love that, so… you…” I’m not saying anything at all, so I stop talking.

I think I know what he needs to hear, I just don’t know how to get there. I can blurt the answer, but it’s not what I actually believe; if he questions me further, I won’t know how to back it up. It will be like answering a complicated question in class because I cheated and read the answer off someone else’s homework.

I can give the right answer as long as I’m not asked to show my work.

I say it anyway and hope for the best. “No, I didn’t mean—There’s no connection resulting from the pregnancy or the baby itself, really. I just meant it’s exciting for two people who love each other to become parents together—like we are right now. It’s exciting that I finally get to contribute to your family, right?”

He thinks it over for a minute. I’m too nervous to hide it, but I try. Finally, he says, “I don’t see the connection between those things. You’re my family because I love you—I wouldn’t love you any less if we never had children, and I won’t love you any more if we do. You are my everything. You are all I need. My feelings for you are independent of your breeding capabilities.”

I try to keep a straight face, but my baffled skepticism is probably showing up anyway. I can tell he’s being open with me right now and I so appreciate it, but for God’s sake, breeding capabilities?

He’s such a weirdo sometimes. I understand his childhood was fucked up on levels I can’t even comprehend, and judging by stories I’ve heard his father did essentially breed women like horses, but it’s still hard to wrap my head around Mateo’s bizarre worldview when it pops up like this. I know he loves his children despite whatever bizarre gap lies between his brain and his heart in situations like these, though, and I guess that’s what’s important.

It feels like the danger has dissipated now, and I’m overrun with tenderness for him. You are my everything. I want that tattooed across my heart. I want to record and save it for the inevitable tough times we will go through. I want him to always feel that way.

I wrap my arm around his midsection and curl up close to him. “For someone with so much intelligence, it sure took you long enough to figure that out,” I tease.

He pulls me closer, securing his arms around my waist. “Figure what out?”

I brush my lips across his and run my fingers through his hair. “That I’m all you need,” I say, still lightly. I’m only teasing him; I don’t want him to think I’m retroactively bitter about sister wives. I agreed to it, I was fine with it, but I’m still glad it’s over.