Smiling slightly, she says, “Ah, my beloved?”
“And other things, but yeah,” I affirm, playing with a loose thread on one of the decorative pillows. Given his insistence about the proper order of these things, I’m sort of surprised Mateo hasn’t noticed and banished it to decorative pillow hell.
“He knows it’s been, like, a lifetime now, right?” she asks, raising her perfect eyebrows.
“Vince excels at holding a grudge,” I inform her. “Why let it go and move on with your life when you can keep stewing over went wrong once?”
“Good question,” she says, nodding. “Vince should write self-help books.”
“He’s also having kind of a hard time with this Joey thing. He and Joey were good friends—best friends, really.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, more solemnly. “That… that’s an unfortunate situation. I can’t believe that happened.”
“Of course he’s pissed that you got hurt,” I’m quick to add, since I’m really uncomfortable talking to Mateo or Meg about this. Meg may be my friend, and she may like Vince, but her loyalty certainly lies with Mateo first. If she knew about Vince’s involvement, if she even suspected, she would have to tell Mateo.
Meg shakes her head dismissively. “No, I get it. Regardless of how he felt about what Joey did, it’s still crazy that he’s dead.”
“Exactly,” I murmur, sighing. Then, more because I want to exit this conversation than because I’m thirsty, I tell her, “I’m going to run downstairs and grab a bottle of water. You want anything?”
“Gummy worms?”
I blink. “Gummy worms?”
Batting her eyelashes at me, she rubs her hand across her still-flat belly. “For the baby.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t help smiling. “I’ll see if I can find any.”
“They’re down there. I sent Vince to get me a big supply. This baby craves sweets pretty hardcore.”
“Are we sure it’s Mateo’s?” I joke.
Pointing a finger at me, she says, “Don’t joke about that. You’ll have me thrown back in the tower in no time. That Irishman likes sweets, and he could probably impregnate a girl just by talking to her.”
I choke on laughter, because she’s not wrong. Meg’s bodyguard is pretty hot.
On the way to the kitchen, however, I get distracted by the open door of Mateo’s study.
I linger in the hall for a moment before peeking inside. He’s in there alone, and even though I immediately want to turn back, he’s already spotted me.
Smiling slightly, warmth in his gaze as he looks at me, he says, “Hello, Mia.”
I offer back a hint of a smile, wrapping my arms around myself in an unconsciously protective gesture. I take a hesitant step inside. “Busy?”
“Nope.” He drops his pen, leaning back in his chair and watching me. “I thought you left already.”
I nod as I approach his desk. “I did, but I came back. I hope you don’t mind, Meg said I could stay the night. I just came down for water and apparently gummy worms?”
A little smirk plays around his lips. “Right, the baby’s sweet tooth. Of course I don’t mind, Mia; you’re welcome here anytime. Another girls’ night?”
I roll my eyes in dread at the thought. “God, no. I’m a loose lipped drunk, I couldn’t drink tonight.”
“Really?” He seems too interested in this, and as he gets up and heads over to the alcohol cart, I sigh.
“I’m not drinking with you,” I inform him.
“Two fingers.”
That does not make me think of alcohol, and I feel my face flush in response. Nonetheless, he pours some alcohol into two glasses, taking one for himself and giving me the other. I accept it, but I don’t take a drink.
Mateo perches on the edge of his desk, regarding me. “So, why the sleepover?”
I shake my head, looking down at the amber liquid in my glass. “Just had a fight with Vince, needed to get away.”
“Bad fight?”
I nod, still not looking at him. It was such a bad idea to come in here. I may have leveled up my lying game since I met him, but I’m nowhere near his level. The last thing I need is to make matters worse.
I didn’t come here to tell him, after all.
I can’t.
My anxiety grows, so I decide maybe I will have a little sip to calm my nerves.
Mateo watches in amusement as I take a little sip and then grimace, making a series of unattractive, horrible faces.
“Oh my god, why is it so strong?”
Mateo chuckles, looking at me as if I delight him.
I roll my eyes and put it down on the edge of his desk. I shouldn’t, since it means dipping close enough to him that I catch a whiff of his cologne. Some icky, uncomfortable feeling grips me from inside, so I take a step back.
“What was your fight about?” he asks.
“The same thing every fight is about,” I mutter. Even the ones that don’t seem like they’re about Mateo somehow always end up being about him. Even if his name never comes up, I know where the aggression comes from.