Even now, somehow, I tell myself it could probably be saved. But it won’t be, because I’ve figured out what it will require of one us. One of us would have to step up and do the hard thing. The selfless thing.
The thing I would do for Mateo, but I won’t do for him.
I am a terrible person.
I don’t know why Vince doesn’t leave me. I know why I don’t leave him, but I’ll be damned if I know why he keeps wanting me.
I drag myself out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. I look like hell. The sex got really rough and my hair is a complete disaster this morning. Dried clumpy mascara shadows hang underneath my eyes. Washing my face isn’t going to suffice; I need a shower.
And maybe an exorcism.
I shower fast and put on a bathrobe instead of clothes. My mouth is so dry. My stomach is feeling shifty as hell, too. Every step I take, it feels like a vat of alcohol shifts from side to side in my gut. This is not going to be a fun morning.
Vince is at the breakfast bar with a plate of food. His phone is on the countertop and he’s scrolling through a text message. He glances up when I enter the room, and somehow he still manages to meet my gaze. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to look at each other this morning. We got mean last night. Months and months of pent up anger and resentment came pouring out of each of us.
“Good morning,” Vince says, almost gently.
Testing the waters, probably. He got meaner than I did, and I was pretty fucking mean.
“Good morning,” I murmur, averting my gaze and tugging my robe together a little more snugly. I turn my back to him, moving to the counter. I grab a plate from the cupboard and dish out the rest of the eggs. “Thank you for making breakfast,” I add.
Instead of you’re welcome, he says, “I’m sorry about last night.”
Thinking about rehashing any part of last night literally makes me shudder. “I know. Me too.”
“We were really awful to each other.”
“I remember.”
“I don’t want us to be awful to each other,” he states. “I made you cry.”
I wince. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter, Mia. I love you. I hate this.”
I nod my agreement, but I don’t say it back. I do love Vince, but it’s not healthy anymore. It’s not what it started out as. I don’t even know if it’s real, or just a remnant of what I once felt. Maybe it’s obligation and I just call it love.
“We didn’t mean all those things we said to each other, right?” he asks.
Since my back is still to him, I allow a cynical little smile to play around my lips. Reaching into the silverware drawer for a fork, I lie. “Of course we didn’t.”
“I think something needs to change,” he tells me.
“Like what?” I ask. I’m not trying to be mean this time, just realistic. “What could possibly fix this, Vince?”
It seems like he’s been thinking about this, but he doesn’t look forward to saying it. “I think we should try to stay away from the mansion. From him. I think we should go back to strictly Sunday dinners. That worked well for us before.”
I shake my head, still feeling a little foggy from all the alcohol last night. Maybe that’s why I tell him, “That wouldn’t work, Vince.”
“It might,” he says.
“It won’t. I don’t feel like I felt then.”
He pauses, absorbing this. “For him or for me?”
“Both,” I say honestly. “I know I’m a terrible partner. I know that. I’m even sorry for it. But there’s nothing I can do.”
“Nothing you will do, you mean,” he corrects, aggravated.
“I don’t even know the difference anymore,” I state. “You want my honesty, Vince, I’ll give you honesty. But you won’t like it.”
“Why?” he asks. “Why can’t you just….” He trails off, unsure how to finish. “Why can’t you just focus on me? Why do you need him?”
I shake my head, wishing I knew how to explain. I wish there was some logical explanation, some way I could make Vince understand how Mateo makes me feel. “I can’t explain it,” I finally say.
“He was never good to you. He played you. Even now, he just toys with you. You’re a game to him, Mia. I actually love you. You just amuse him. You’re like a fucking video game that rides his dick.”
I laugh, shaking my head. He might not even be wrong. I wouldn’t describe it that way, but I know I’m mostly a game to Mateo. I’m not his partner. I’m not the person he chose. The person he made a baby with. I have no idea what I am to him. I know what I want to be, but they’re not the same thing.