Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

“Right, ‘cause we’ve never done that before,” he remarks with a roll of his eyes.

“I cannot be held liable for the actions of drunk Mia,” I inform him.

Quirking an eyebrow, he calls me right out on that bullshit. “I’ve had sober Mia in this backseat, too.”

“I was drunk on you. It still counts.”

Nonetheless, he stops trying to get me out of my clothes and settles for holding me against his chest while Adrian takes us to Flavor—one of the restaurants they deem relatively safe. After lunch, Mateo takes me to peruse aisle after aisle of merchandise for the teeny tiny little Morelli in my womb.

Once or twice I feel skeptical, wondering if this could still be a trick. Of course it could be. It’s not the most fun part of being with him, but it is a risk. Just not one I want to waste any time considering. If he’s performing for me, he’s doing a really good job.

But I don’t think he’s performing. I think he’s letting me have a win. I think this time Mateo is bending.

Because he loves me.

—

“What if it’s a boy?”

“Then I drown it.”

Glaring over at him lying beside me in bed, I hit Mateo hard in the stomach. He half groans, half laughs.

“That isn’t funny coming from you,” I inform him.

“You really think I’d drown a baby?” he asks, quirking a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m not a monster.”

“I think there are a lot of people who would disagree with that assertion,” I inform him.

“Probably. But I’ve never drowned any babies, so I don’t think I’ll start with yours.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. You know I’m hoping it’s a girl, but what if it isn’t?”

Mateo sighs, glancing down at the baby booties I’ve placed on my tummy, as if the baby can wear them already. “If it’s a boy, he’ll be a second son. Thank God Meg is having a boy. This would be an insurmountable disaster otherwise.”

“Would you let this baby have your seat?”

“I couldn’t.” He cuts a glance my way, probably not wanting to piss me off. “Can you imagine Vince with my power? He would be a monster. It would kill any good you think is left in him.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know the effect power has; I’ve never had any.”

He rolls his eyes like that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said. “You have me.”

“And you have all the power in this relationship,” I reply.

“Clearly,” he says, looking pointedly at my stomach.

Power’s not my thing, so I brush it off. “This baby may not even be anything like Vince. I didn’t really talk to Vince’s dad in Vegas, he apparently doesn’t think I’m worth all the fuss, but Vince doesn’t seem anything like him. Everyone says Vince is more like your dad. If blood was all that mattered, wouldn’t you be a hot-headed psychopath?”

“I have enough sense to realize I have to keep a leash on myself. I have it in me to be angry, too, I’m just smart enough to control myself. Anger is destructive. You can rule with fear, but you have to have your own house in order. You have to be careful about letting your anger get the best of you. People will follow someone they’re afraid of, but they need to know what to expect and what’s expected of them. If you’re a loose cannon, they can’t get a read and you become a problem people want to get rid of—like Vince was for me. Vince doesn’t have enough self-control. That’s Ben coming out in him. And yet, he has more of my dad in him than his dad. It happens sometimes.”

It’s probably a little twisted, but I love listening to him talk about how he thinks and operates. His brain is so uniquely wired.

His words make sense, though. I don’t think Vince’s desires were hard to read, Mateo and I just refused to ever meet them. Vince didn’t have power then, but he had more in Vegas and it did seem like he wasn’t going to use it very wisely since it involved—perhaps revolved around—kidnapping me and keeping me there even if I didn’t want to be.

Of course, Mateo had a similar strategy; I just want to be here.

“There’s no chance you guys are brothers, right?”

He smirks, shaking his head. “No. I already had that thought and checked.”

“Also, I’m amused that this is you on a leash,” I comment. “What would life be like if you weren’t?”

“A literal nightmare,” he replies, catching my hand and running his thumb over my knuckles. “I’d like to remind you, my own father in my current situation physically attacked his pregnant wife. Then when she ran from him, he spent years hunting her, and when he found her? Killed her, her lover, and their children. Then when he was done with that, he killed her friend who knew where she’d been hiding all the time he’d been searching for her, killed that friend’s husband, and set her son on fire—even though he may have believed he was that kid’s father. I’m willing to play house and raise Vince’s kid as my own. I am the Disney version of my father.”