Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

“I just won’t be your obligation fuck anymore,” I state, nodding my head.

“Well, what fun’s an obligation fuck?” he asks lightly enough, but he doesn’t even bother denying it.

I shake my head. “You’re a jerk.”

“That’s a very mild word for what I am. I’d have forgiven something much stronger this morning.”

Sighing, I close the folder and push it aside, turning my attention back to my plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “You could’ve just been honest with me, you know. You didn’t need to string me along for four months, thinking maybe this was some never-ending punishment. Would it have been so hard to say, ‘hey, sister wives has been fun, but I need to downgrade my workload and I want my bedroom back. It’s been fun, but we’re done here’?”

Apparently unconcerned with the four months of my life he’s wasted, he says, “It worked out just fine. This was your idea,” he adds, firmly, like I need reminding. “You’re the one who ended things with me. So, when Mia comes home…”

I groan, rolling my eyes. “God. Yes, when your fairy princess comes home, I will take full responsibility for ending this relationship.”

He nods once, satisfied. “Good.”

I shake my head and take a sip of orange juice to wash down my last bite. “You really are the devil, you know.”

Apparently unconcerned, he replies evenly, “Aw, I don’t know. The devil wouldn’t let you leave once you fall out of love.”

My eyebrow jump halfway up my forehead. “I didn’t fall out of love. You fell out of love. I still love you; you’re the one who doesn’t love me.”

He seems to consider this briefly, then his gaze returns to mine. I only have time for the briefest flash of apprehension before he opens his mouth and shatters everything. “I raped Mia when I first met her. Repeatedly. At gunpoint, once. She was with Vince, she begged me to stop, she meant it, and I didn’t. I wanted to hurt her.”

My stomach rocks and bile rises up in my throat. I place a hand over my mouth just in case I can’t keep it in, but his horrible words sour my stomach more effectively than bad food or morning sickness.

I don’t know whether to thank him or punch him in the face.

Mental images rise unbidden to my mind, images of what that might look like. Aside from the gun, I don’t actually have to imagine that hard. When we finally gave him the threesome he was so interested in, Mia stipulated that while we could all play, he could only fuck her or she wouldn’t be able to handle it. So I watched him pin her down, watched her writhe under his body. She was no victim then, she was enjoying him, but as rough as he was with her, it did remind me of my earlier concerns about him and their sexual relationship. I knew sex between them would be more intense, but did it have to look so violent?

Since I still feel like throwing up, I place a steadying hand on my abdomen and take a deep breath, trying to will away the nausea. I close my eyes, but those flashes come back so I open them right back up.

I procreated with a rapist. Awesome. Where are the snappy onesies for that?

I can’t look at him, but I have to ask, “Were there others?”

His calm voice makes me more decisive; I definitely want to punch him in the face. “No. Only her. I thought it would be the quickest way to get the response I needed out of her so I could dispose of her without Vince being a pain in my ass. I assumed it would turn her on me more effectively than it did. I only intended it as a means to an end. It turned into something else.”

“Did you threaten her?” I flick a glance at his face, but it’s hard. It’s hard to look at the face I still vaguely longed for just a minute ago, because there’s no hint of yearning right now. A yearning to get away from him, maybe. “Did you make her lie for you?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I never asked her to lie about it. She was free to tell anyone what I did—outside of law enforcement, obviously.”

“This is very confusing,” I state, honestly.

“You suspected,” he returns, because he’s no idiot.

“Yes, but there’s suspicion, and then there’s outright admission. You’ve both spent four years telling me it was my imagination. We have children. Do I have to worry…?”

Thank God, his face contorts with disgust. “No, no—I would never hurt—No, that’s not…”

I cut him off with a nod. This is the last conversation I want to be having with the man whose child I’m carrying. Bile still burns in my churning gut. Normally I can roll with the punches, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in all my life. I feel like it changes everything, even the way I look at him and Mia, but now I’m not sure in what way. The love she bathes him in is too intense for her to be faking it. No one could pull that off for this many years. And why would she? However she managed it, she got away from him once; she was out from under his roof. She was with Vince. She came back voluntarily. She settled for sharing. She thanked me for sharing him with her.