Smiling wryly, he says, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I sigh heavily, like he’s being a real drag with his rules. “I want friends, Mateo.”
“Spend more time with Francesca,” he advises, placing a hand at the small of my back and escorting me out of the study. “Salvatore would also kill for you. That counts.”
“But what about mommy friends? Francesca is obviously my friend, but she has her own life. It would be nice to have a living, breathing mommy friend to have play dates with. And hey, Meg already lives here.”
“So does Elise. I’ll make Elise be your friend if you want someone in-house. But I’m cutting off the parasitic frenemies. It’s past time to draw that line.”
“Elise hates me,” I point out.
He couldn’t be more dismissive. “Do you really doubt my powers of persuasion after all these years? If you want Elise for a friend, I will hand deliver her.”
“I would like Elise for a friend,” I admit. “I think we have stuff in common, and we’re having babies close to the same time. I feel like we could like each other if she’d give me a chance. It would also make Adrian’s life much easier since you make him be my friend anyway.”
“I don’t make him be your friend; he likes you. I will make Elise be your friend, though.”
I grin up at him, leaning in to give him a little kiss as we make our way toward the dining room. “You’re the best husband ever.”
He smiles, holding me close and lengthening the kiss by a few seconds before murmuring against my lips, “You can thank me later.”
I beam up at him. “With pleasure.”
I leave the men in the dining room so I can head in the kitchen to grab bread for the table. Elise is already heading out to pour the wine while Colette and Francesca line up salads. Meg must have just come in because she’s washing her hands at the sink. I’m relieved to see she looks okay, but I feel a little awkward about approaching her for the first time, too. I don’t know if anyone has told her I’m not allowed to visit her or if she just thinks I’ve abandoned her.
Since Mateo isn’t here to police me, I wander over to her, offering up a weak smile.
“Hey.”
“Long time no see,” she shoots back, her gaze moving over me as she takes stock. “Cute dress, but I can’t even tell you’re pregnant. God, that’s annoying. I look like the side of a house and you look like this.”
“Well, I’m not that far along yet; you’re ready to pop,” I point out.
“I am. And your husband won’t even give me a baby monitor or anything to call for help in case I go into labor, so—”
Before Meg can finish, Francesca sails up beside me and says, “You know what, since we’re being forced to have you at this dinner, maybe instead of pestering Mia about things she can’t control, you should make yourself useful and take out the bread.”
“Oh, I’ll take out the bread,” I offer quickly, as Meg’s unfriendly gaze drifts to Francesca’s. “I was just about to; I just wanted to say hi to Meg real fast.”
“Yeah, I’ve been locked away in a literal dungeon with almost no human contact for two weeks, so pardon me for trying to catch up with my friend.”
Francesca’s dark eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “Friend? Bitch, please. You’re not Mia’s friend. You’ve also done far more to earn your spot in that dungeon than any other woman who’s ever been thrown in it, so forgive me for not feeling sorry for you. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”
Meg laughs shortly. “Seriously? Your husband runs the literal mafia and you want to lecture me about my crimes?”
“Okay, ladies.” Colette comes over, eyebrows rising, her blue eyes moving from me, to Francesca, to Meg. Pointing at Meg, she says, “You go over to the salad station, Mia and I will take out the bread.” Glancing at Francesca, she adds, “Try not to stab her, okay? She’s heavily pregnant.”
Brown eyes narrowed at Meg, Francesca says, “I guess I can wait a couple weeks.”
“Oh, you’re gonna stab me now, huh?”
“Actually, you’re not worth getting my hands dirty; I’ll just have my husband kill you,” Francesca shoots back. “He’ll happily do the job; we don’t hesitate to kill rats.”
“I am not a rat.” Meg pauses, her hands clenching into fists, then she says, “You know what? I don’t have to defend myself to you.”
I interrupt. “Can we please all be civil? I don’t like to play this card, but I’m the one she betrayed. If I can be nice, can’t we all?”
“You have a soft spot for psychos who hurt you,” Francesca informs me.
“And it’s worked out really well for me so far,” I state.