“Yeah?” he asks gently, rubbing my back. “Why’s that?”
Because I don’t deserve it.
I don’t say that, though.
I don’t say anything.
I just accept the comfort he offers.
For someone so accustomed to the company of sour princes and evil kings, a white knight is a nice breath of fresh air.
Chapter Two
Meg
My feet are killing me.
Mateo unzips my dress, lightly trailing a finger down my back behind the zipper. Gooseflesh rises all over my body and I turn back, meeting his dark eyes and offering a tender smile.
I love this man.
Normally when I think that, it’s a pleasurable thought. Of course I love this man. He’s mine. We’re engaged. We’re having a baby together. Of course I love him.
Only tonight, for the first time, I started to wonder if he deserves all the trust I give him. A known liar is a hard person to trust to begin with, but one such as Mateo—unapologetic, without remorse, so long as it meets his needs, his desires?
Well, I’ve never much minded. I like his ruthlessness, to a certain extent.
Because it’s never applied to me. I could trust him. He loved me.
Loves me.
As far as I know, he still loves me.
Only it didn’t feel like he did when I watched him dance with Mia earlier tonight. It didn’t feel like his faithfulness, a thing I’ve always counted on, was as much a given as I’ve always believed.
I know things have shifted between Mateo and Mia. I’m not blind. I can see that. It’s been manageable, though. Mateo isn’t stupid and Mia isn’t selfish; attraction happens, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Nobody has to act on it.
But Mia couldn’t even look at me. She completely avoided me after they danced tonight. That’s not normal.
And then there was after our dance, when Mark hauled Mia out on the dance floor while Vince sulked. We all know each other from the bakery, so it wasn’t exactly remarkable, but Mark kept her out on the dance floor for a long time. He held her close for slow songs, goofed around with her during fast songs. He got her laughing. The sad cloud that seemed to hang over her earlier was replaced with cheer, because despite apparently also being mobbed up, Mark is fun. Mateo sat at our table and watched them. Not casually, not his gaze sweeping the floor and occasionally landing on them—he watched unceasingly, like a predator with his prey in sight.
It made me uncomfortable.
Me.
Rolling my shoulders, trying to ease out the tension, I remark, “Long night.”
“Yes,” he agrees, stripping off his shirt.
“I wish we would’ve been home to read the girls their bedtime story,” I remark.
Smirking, he says, “I doubt Francesca would’ve found that a suitable reason to miss her wedding.”
“I’m glad she’s happy. Even if she and her hubby tried to get me killed,” I add brightly.
He comes up behind me, catching my shoulders, and starts dropping kisses along my nape. It’s a small comfort, but it shouldn’t be a comfort at all. It should be a given that this man, my man, wants me.
I would like to hop in bed with him and forget about tonight. It was probably nothing. That’s probably the right thing to do. But I need to take the temperature of this thing.
“Mia and Vince seemed… not good,” I remark.
The kisses stop. His hands remain on my shoulders, but he’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I don’t think that’s going to last much longer.”
This makes my heart sink for some reason. I blame the baby. Not for moving my heart, but for the emotional vulnerability of this damn pregnancy, putting me in this icky emotional place where I stand here like a goober, wondering if my fiancé is as devoted to me as I am to him.
Gross.
I glance across the room at the bed, reconsidering this whole talking thing. Maybe I should stop looking for trouble and just jump into bed with this sexy man, and just… you know, ignore.
God, it’s like Rodney all over again, just with better sex. This time, instead of ignoring his gambling, his debt, I have to ignore this?
No.
It’s shamefully tempting, but no. I won’t do that.
Turning to face him, I ask, “What happens then?”
Mateo watches me carefully. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re paying for Mia to go to college because she’s with Vince, right? So, if she’s not with Vince anymore…?”
His eyes remain on me, searching. I have the feeling I’m taking a test, only I didn’t study for it and I’m not sure what subject. “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t have to anymore. But I don’t have to now. I still do.”
That doesn’t answer my question. And it doesn’t make me feel better. “So, you’d keep supporting her? Would she stay at the house? It’s Vince’s lease, right? So she would probably have to move.”