Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Since my portion of work is done anyway, I tell Meg I have to pee and flee the kitchen. I go out the front door instead.

It’s a chilly, dreary day. The dim gray sky is full of dark clouds. A bitter gust of wind hits me and I rub the soft, thin fabric covering my arms. I already wish I’d have grabbed a coat.

The fountain at the center of our driveway is dry right now, shut off and drained for the freezing season. I take a seat on the edge and look down into it. In the summer I would dip my hand into the gleaming pool of water, but now it’s just a dingy, empty well.

I thought someday I would take pictures of my daughter in front of this fountain. Every year on her birthday she could pose in front of it. She would ride her bike around it when she got older, first with training wheels, then without. She would grow even older and sit on this same edge with her friends while they talked about boys, since they couldn’t talk in the house without Mateo potentially overhearing. As a teen, her terrified prom date would stand in front of this beautiful fountain with his hand around her waist so I could take a million pictures while Mateo stood beside me, offering him a vaguely threatening smile.

But I don’t get any of that. I don’t get to have that daughter. My womb is as empty as the fountain’s stone basin.

Unlike Meg’s, apparently.

I don’t know where Adrian is, but suddenly I realize no matter how delicious dinner smelled, sitting at the table with Mateo and Meg will feel like Chinese water torture tonight and I’m not going to do it. It’s not a Sunday; Meg and I are only doing dinner because Maria has a cold and we wanted her to have the night off. But it’s not a mandatory dinner. I can leave this one.

So, I text Adrian and tell him I need a ride. I would normally go to Mateo and he would arrange a ride for me, but I don’t want to see Mateo right now.

A few minutes of sitting in the cold pass while I wait for Adrian to come fetch me.

Mateo comes out the front door instead. He peels his suit jacket off as he walks toward the fountain, then drapes it around my shoulders once he gets there.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, without preamble.

I pull his jacket around me a little more snugly, catching the faint scent of him on the expensive fabric. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Why did you ask Adrian for a ride? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Since I don’t want to get Meg in trouble, I lie. “I need to go to the bakery. I have to help Francesca with something. I’ll just get food while I’m out.”

He frowns. “The bakery closed twenty minutes ago.”

“It’s inventory stuff. We got behind and she needs help. I won’t be long.”

I don’t think he buys a word of it, but he doesn’t waste his time calling me on my bullshit. “You’re distant,” he says instead.

Smiling faintly, I meet his gaze. “I’m like eight inches away.”

He lightly grabs my arm to pull me up, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his hard body. “Too many inches.”

I don’t melt into his embrace like I usually do. I resist, not intentionally, but my body just doesn’t want to be near his right now.

Now his scowl comes back with a vengeance. “What is wrong, Mia?”

“I just need to go help Francesca. Can you please give me Adrian and just leave me alone for a little bit?”

My stomach bottoms out as the words tumble from my mouth. My gaze snaps to his face and I intuitively lean into him, wanting to take the sting out my request. I reach a hand out to caress his handsome face and flash him more of a smile than I expected myself to muster.

He knows I’m full of shit, but he doesn’t say so. He watches me for a moment, taking a mental inventory, then he finally goes back into the house and leaves me here by the fountain.

Several minutes later Adrian does finally emerge from the house with his keys.

I level him a look to tell him I’m not impressed. “Way to be a nark.”

“Hey, you know who the boss is.” He leads the way to the car and opens the door for me to climb in. Once he slides into the driver’s seat, he asks, “So, where are we really going?”

“I told Mateo I needed to go to the bakery.”

“You did, but I texted Francesca and she has no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Goddammit,” I mutter.

“You’re an awful liar,” he tells me.

“Whatever.” I look out the window at the house. “I don’t care where we go; I just needed to get out of the house for a minute. Do you have any errands you need to run?”