And it still could be. Mark could still walk up here.
I need to get him out of here.
I grab a single-serve box and open the display, bending to draw out a purple and green frosting face. “That was thoughtful,” I tell him, glancing up at him. “Of course, I think Maria probably could’ve made her something sweet.”
His hand sweeps gently, indicating the display. “And yet, I have this bakery at my disposal so she doesn’t have to.”
I always think of the bakery as mine. I don’t like the reminder that, at the end of the day, it’s actually his.
I close the box and secure it with a tab, sliding it across the counter. “Anything else?”
He shakes his head. “Bring home some applications tonight and I’ll go over them. You said you’re understaffed.”
“Okay. I mean, I could handle it. I run everything around here as it is and we’re doing fine.”
“I know, but you work as much as I do. Maybe a little more help would allow you to take a break once in a while.”
He is suspicious. He has to be. That’s why he’s remarking on how much I work.
A sinking realization hits me: now that Mia has moved out and he’s filed her away, there’s nothing at home to distract him. He’s going to go back to micromanaging and keeping a better eye on things.
Damn.
“Mia helps out sometimes. I could give her more hours.”
He shakes his head, but his face betrays nothing. If not for last night, I’d believe he didn’t give half a damn. “Let her focus on her studies. We’ll hire someone else to help out.”
“She’s already trained, though. And she and Vince could probably use a little extra money now that they’re off on their own.”
He meets my gaze evenly, but I get the impression I’m annoying him. “I said no.”
I shrug, averting my gaze but not saying a word.
“I told Mia that once she and Vince break up, she’s free to move on from our family, so don’t go drawing her deeper into it. They come to Sunday dinners, she can help out for a few hours a week here, but that’s it.” Then, a little more pointedly, he says, “Do not try to fix anything.”
I expected him to steadfastly ignore that last night ever happened, given vulnerability is his least favorite thing in the whole world, but I feel like this is the only opening I’ll get to mention it. “I think you’re wrong about her. I’ve thought about it all morning, and I think maybe her youth works in your favor. Because she’s young, you could train her to handle you. She already fits in with the family like she was born to it; it might not even take much guidance.”
I would think that sounded bad, except I was brought up in this family. Mateo will not consider it remotely odd that I’m talking about training females.
“I put her through enough,” he states. “She wants to put me behind her. Let her.”
I’m completely conflicted, half-agreeing with him, but also wanting him to be happy. I’m still frustrated with him for making such an awful mess to begin with, but I don’t think it’s a hopeless situation, even given all he did to fuck it up. Mia made it through all his shit, and she seems to have rolled right out of it. Since the poker game, she’s been almost as cheerful as she was when she still looked at life in our house like a fairytale. If she can weather his storms that efficiently, if they don’t wear on her like they do everyone else, if she can bounce back that fast, that’s rare, and completely perfect for my pain in the ass brother.
I can’t say that though, so I settle for something much simpler. “But you like her.”
“There was more alcohol in my veins than blood,” he replies dismissively. “I had enough 40-year-old scotch to turn maudlin. That’s all it was. Forget that happened. And if you ever see me drinking alone in front of the fireplace again, just leave me to it.”
If he’d just let people care about him, we would. Instead he keeps up a stupid fortress around his heart, wielding cruelty, indifference, or whatever he has handy that can be weaponized. It’s damned exhausting.
I don’t believe he really stopped in for a cookie, but I don’t know if his ulterior motive was to check up on me because he’s in some way suspicious, or if he just wanted to say something about last night in the study.
Whatever the case, he takes Isabella’s cookie and leaves.
I still feel incredibly antsy. I want to go peek out the front door and make sure he really left.
I’ve let myself get comfortable lately, but this served as much needed reminder that we need to be more careful.