A slow, wicked grin claims his lips, then he leans in and claims hers. Her arms wind around his neck and she pulls him closer as his hand snakes between her legs. She moans against his mouth, then breaks away, her head falling back against the wall as he works his magic on her.
With his fingers still inside her, his hand anchored on her hip, Mateo turns his head to look at me behind the glass.
And the fucker winks.
—
The darkness of my bedroom is a temporary relief. I swallow down the dread, but the rage is still there. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. Just a fucking dream.
So why does it fucking hurt?
I lie here for a minute, trying to sort my shit out, but there’s too much of every emotion running through me and I need to get it out.
I grab my phone and check the time. Not quite 6am. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I drag my ass out of bed, pull on some clothes, and go out for a run. Maybe if I pound the pavement, I can work out some of this anger. I should head to the gym, take out some aggression on a speed bag. I can imagine Mateo’s smug fucking face and beat it until my knuckles bleed.
Rage curdles my gut and I run harder.
Flashes torment me with every stretch of road I cover—Carly’s face last night, looking up at me with teary eyes. She didn’t look at me like that before. She never looked so betrayed when I got pissed off at her, when I got a little rough with her. I’d never hurt her. She knows that, right? I say shit sometimes, but I just get carried away.
Fuck.
Dream Carly, with Mateo’s fucking hands all over her. I still feel like I’m stuck behind the glass, and the asshole isn’t even here.
What if she was with him before? She didn’t actually deny it. She gave me some asshole’s name. Haven’t looked into it yet. Honestly, I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what I’ll find if I go digging into Carly’s past, and that alone should be enough to convince me to go home, throw my shit in a duffel, and clear the fuck out of Connecticut.
But why would he send her?
It would make sense of some weird coincidences, though. The shampoo she picked up when she went home to Chicago. Obviously Mateo would know what kind of shampoo Mia always used. Some of the shit Carly wears, I swear I’ve seen on Mia before. I don’t know designers or any of that shit, but it just looks like Mia. Mateo could easily have his personal shopper pick up a few outfits for Carly in Mia’s style and doll her up to catch my attention.
But why? And what was she to him? Could she have been his own personal Mia surrogate? She would’ve been 18 when Mia moved out to live with me. If Mateo wanted a Mia replacement to keep him company and remind him of her, Carly might work.
It’s hard for me to imagine him not falling for Carly though, and he never brought her around. With her sexy little smile, her perfect lips, her gentle persistence. No matter if you’re a stubborn pain in the ass; she can always find a new path to your heart. If he’d found Carly when Mia left, why not just keep Carly? Carly’s amazing.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
When did she say she was involved with that guy? Did she say? I don’t think so.
Does it have to matter?
If she did fuck Mateo long before she ever met me, does it have to matter?
I wish it didn’t, but it does. It sours my stomach. The dream comes back to me. I’ll never be able to get it out of my head.
I run. I run harder. I run some more.
When my legs are tired and I’m exhausted, I stop at the nearest store for a bottle of water. There’s a frozen chest of various ice creams up front, and my gaze lands on a single ice cream sandwich. It reminds me of Carly’s stupid scenario yesterday at the diner, her Billy Bob, or whatever the fuck his name was.
I grab an ice cream sandwich and toss it on the counter as I draw out my wallet. “That, too.”
By the time I get home, I’m beat. I put the ice cream sandwich in the freezer and head down the hall, tiredly checking each room, pushing doors open, making sure no one is waiting for me. I almost wish he was. I want this to be over.
No one’s here to kill me today, so I take a shower. I have to work tonight and I’m already exhausted. I should just go back to sleep. Chances are slip that Carly’s going to come beating on my door after last night.