Surviving Mateo (Morelli Family 2)

“Uh huh,” she says, nodding enthusiastically.

“Mommy has to work through dinner, so I won’t be able to eat with you.”

“Oh, I already had some dinner. Me and Isabella did that,” Lily informs me, apparently unconcerned. “Ju made us rice. It was really yummy.”

They catch me up on the goings on in Barbieville for a few more minutes, then I make my way over to the nanny. “Thank you so much for watching Lily. She’s been going through a lot of changes lately, and… I’m sure it helps to have a friend.”

“They get along well,” she informs me. “Isabella likes having another child around. For too long, it’s only her. Her father is very protective.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that,” I say, offering a faint smile. “Well, I have to help clean up after dinner, but I think that should be it, then I’ll come get her.”

Waving me off, she says, “No worries. I can put her to bed if you’re busy.”

“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head. “I appreciate that, but I want to put her to bed.”

She nods her agreement, but somehow doesn’t look convinced.

—

I finally meet Cherie at dinner. She’s in the kitchen with Elise, plating salads and lining them up along the counter like it’s a conveyer belt.

“Someone needs to take these out,” she says, putting down the last one.

I feel a bit useless, so I rush to grab them.

“Mateo’s first,” Cherie says, handing me some cranberries.

“I can carry three,” I tell her, having been a waitress a time or two in my life.

“That’s fine, just give Mateo his first,” she advises.

I haven’t actually seen Mateo since last night in his study, so I’m not sure what to expect. I carry three salads out, but make sure to give him his first. His gaze lingers on me, but his face is unreadable. He doesn’t thank me, and I move on to deliver the next two salads.

I’m just about to head back into the kitchen, but Mateo summons me with a simple, “Meg.”

I stop by his side, watching him prepare his salad. “Yes?”

He spears a big forkful, but instead of taking a bite, he holds it up for me.

I blink, thinking he can’t be serious. “You want me to take a bite of your food?”

“Better safe than sorry,” he states, not even betraying a hint of amusement.

“Wow,” I say, rolling my eyes, but smiling. “Okay.” Then I go ahead and take a bite of his salad, remaining there so he can see I’ve swallowed. Then I open my mouth, just to be cheeky.

Now he smiles, turning his attention back to his plate and spearing a bite for himself.

Sighing, I place a hand on his shoulder before heading back to the kitchen.

There are appetizers to go with the salads tonight, so I bring those out next. They’re for each side of the table to share, so I don’t bother waiting around to taste those for him.

There’s a break between dishes, but Cherie brought home some groceries, so she sends me to the pantry to put them away and see where everything is. By the time I’m done with that, she’s already plating the main course.

“You should go clear the salad plates to make room,” she tells me.

When I get back to the dining room to clear plates, I see Elise refilling drinks. They really run this like a well-oiled machine. I can’t imagine being served dinner like this every night. Even at restaurants, I always tidy up the table and stack plates and cups to make as little work as possible for the waitress—and she’s getting a 25% tip.

I’m a little unexcited that dinner is a salmon dish, because I don’t care for salmon at all, and I have a feeling Mateo’s going to make me sample this before he takes a bite, too. Maybe I can just nibble on the sides.

Sure enough, I take out the first three plates, and again, he stops me on my way to the kitchen.

“I don’t like salmon,” I inform him, leaning down and taking his knife and fork from him. I cut the vegetables up and give myself a bite of those. “Mm, delicious.”

“I’m not going to eat that if you don’t take a bite,” he states.

Leaning into his ear, since I don’t know if everyone at the table knows why I’m here, I tell him, “I am not going to poison you.” Leaning back, I say, “Would you like me to make you something else? I love steak—I’ll happily try your steak for you. Chicken? How about a roast? We’ll be waiting a long time, but I can make a pretty mean—”

Before I’m able to finish, he spears a piece of salmon and yanks me down until I’m inches from his face. Narrowing my eyes at him, I nonetheless open my mouth so he can shove it in.