Coming Home (Morelli Family, #6)

by Sam Mariano

  I can give the right answer as long as I’m not asked to show my work.

  I say it anyway and hope for the best. “No, I didn’t mean—There’s no connection resulting from the pregnancy or the baby itself, really. I just meant it’s exciting for two people who love each other to become parents together—like we are right now. It’s exciting that I finally get to contribute to your family, right?”

  He thinks it over for a minute. I’m too nervous to hide it, but I try. Finally, he says, “I don’t see the connection between those things. You’re my family because I love you—I wouldn’t love you any less if we never had children, and I won’t love you any more if we do. You are my everything. You are all I need. My feelings for you are independent of your breeding capabilities.”

  I try to keep a straight face, but my baffled skepticism is probably showing up anyway. I can tell he’s being open with me right now and I so appreciate it, but for God’s sake, breeding capabilities?

  He’s such a weirdo sometimes. I understand his childhood was fucked up on levels I can’t even comprehend, and judging by stories I’ve heard his father did essentially breed women like horses, but it’s still hard to wrap my head around Mateo’s bizarre worldview when it pops up like this. I know he loves his children despite whatever bizarre gap lies between his brain and his heart in situations like these, though, and I guess that’s what’s important.

  It feels like the danger has dissipated now, and I’m overrun with tenderness for him. You are my everything. I want that tattooed across my heart. I want to record and save it for the inevitable tough times we will go through. I want him to always feel that way.

  I wrap my arm around his midsection and curl up close to him. “For someone with so much intelligence, it sure took you long enough to figure that out,” I tease.

  He pulls me closer, securing his arms around my waist. “Figure what out?”

  I brush my lips across his and run my fingers through his hair. “That I’m all you need,” I say, still lightly. I’m only teasing him; I don’t want him to think I’m retroactively bitter about sister wives. I agreed to it, I was fine with it, but I’m still glad it’s over.

  “Oh.” He shakes his head dismissively. “I’ve known that for a long time.”

  “We have very different concepts of ‘a long time,’” I inform him. “A month is not a long time.”

  “There’s no way in hell you think I’ve only known that for a month.”

  “Fine, a few months,” I allow.

  “Try again.”

  I frown down at him. He’s calm now, lightly amused. His fingers move lightly up and down the curve of my back. I’m not in the mood to play guessing games. “Well, I’ve been sharing you with someone else for four years. Evenly, until a few months ago when she got pregnant again. I know you and I have always had… this,” I say, for lack of an adequate word to describe what’s between us. “But you must have been getting something from her you weren’t getting from me.”

  He shrugs. “Nothing I won’t still have now. Frankly, sharing was kind of a hassle.”

  I can’t keep my jaw from dropping open. “A hassle?”

  “Not you,” he says, amused at how offended I am. His hands settle at the small of my back and he pulls me up to give me a little kiss. “You’ve always been my favorite disturber of the peace, even before you were mine. I’m looking forward to you hassling me for the rest of my life. Keeps me on my toes.”

  “We did sister wives for you and you have the nerve to call the experience a hassle.”

  Shaking his head, he says, “I mostly did sister wives for you. You didn’t want me to hurt Meg, so I didn’t. As long as we were all happy, it was fine. Once that stopped, I couldn’t justify the inconvenience any longer.”

  I can’t close my jaw. It’s hanging wide open and I’m so flabbergasted, I don’t even know what to say. “But… but…”

  “I don’t see the problem,” he states. “We all got what we wanted. No one got hurt.”

  “You’ve been sleeping with someone else for four years.”

  “Yes.” His tone seems to imply, “and the problem is?”

  My eyes threaten to bulge out of my head. “Why would you do that?”

  “I just told you,” he states. “I was already killing Vince—you think I should’ve compounded it by making you feel like you were hijacking me from your pregnant friend? You absorb guilt the way a sponge absorbs water; you’d have fallen apart. Meg agreed to the arrangement, you agreed; problem solved. I never intended for sister wives to go on this long, but you both seemed to get what you needed from it. I didn’t mind it. This isn’t that complicated to understand, Mia.”

  Yes, it is! I can’t say that and sound like an idiot, but it totally is. “Didn’t you love Meg?”

  “Sure,” he says, easily. “In a much more limited way.” He catches my hand, lacing our fingers together and kissing my knuckles. “I’m only in love with you. I would take my life apart and rebuild it to fit you all over again if you needed me to.”

  My heart sinks under the weight of that tenderness bomb, but my brain holds steady at the helm. “Mateo… you proposed to her.”

  He shrugs. “Well, I didn’t plan to take you back at the time. You were never going to leave Vince on your own, and for a while you two seemed fairly happy together. You wanted to move on and I let you. I figured it was for the best anyway. But Meg brought you back. Before Meg, you kept your distance from me. I only ever saw you in person on Sunday nights, and Vince was always there. If I couldn’t have you, I wanted you around as much as possible. People look at things through their own individual lenses. My settling down would’ve reassured you and Vince that the threat had been lifted. He would’ve been less vigilant and you wouldn’t have been afraid to come around anymore. Maybe you wouldn’t have been with me, but you would’ve still been there for all the important things in my life. Once I had you all lulled, you could’ve come by for dinner and drinks again. I may have even been able to convince you guys to move into the guest suite Adrian occupies now. If not, you still would’ve graced my table for holiday dinners and all the important things. Vince didn’t want children and I distanced you from your existing family, so with nowhere else to go, you would’ve ended up here. Long story short, the easiest and most effective way to install you in my life permanently was to settle down with Meg. I was fond of her, we had fun together. Meg was a good back-up; she just wasn’t you. I was fair to her. I gave her the life she wanted, met all her needs and desires. Does it matter if I didn’t entirely mean it?”

  “Yes. Yes, it does matter.” I can only shake my head, too many confusing thoughts shooting through it. The strangest of them all is that, as cold as what he’s saying is… I kind of get it. In a way, I did the same thing. Even when I was tired of being with Vince, every time I thought about leaving, I would circle back to the uncomfortable thought of never seeing Mateo again. It wasn’t even much, I never thought of it as the driving factor, but it consistently came up. I couldn’t actually imagine his complete absence from my life, even if I only sat beside him at the weekly dinner I attended with someone else.

  Mateo shrugs. “We can agree to disagree. I checked all your boxes, no one got hurt, and now we have Rosalie and I finally have an heir. This couldn’t have possibly gone better.”

  “You lied to Meg. A lot.”

  “I lie to people.” His eyes dance with amusement as he adds mockingly, “A lot.”

  “That isn’t something to be proud of,” I remind him.

  “I don’t care,” he states, guiding my hand to his chest, placing it over his heart. He flattens my palm against his skin and rests his hand over mine. “Anyway, we don’t have to talk about this. If it’s upsetting you, I’d rather not.”

  “I just… this is a lot. You’ve been lying to me, too,” I point out.

  That causes him to frown. “No, I haven’t. I’ve never lied to you about this; you never asked. I had to come up with something conv
oluted because your wish list is so long. If you were less concerned about people, I could’ve accomplished my end a long time ago and just left a trail of casualties in my wake. But then you wouldn’t be you, and I love you. As I’ve said before, you’re worth all the extra steps. I’ve been looking for you all my life, Mia. I finally found you, so I did what I had to do to get you. I always have and I always will. I’m not sorry for that.”

  There’s no reasoning with him because he’s already too reasonable. Pushing both of my hands through his hair, I grip his head and stare at it. “I want in here. I want to go for a walk around every devious corner of your complicated mind.”

  Smirking, he assures me, “You’d get lost.”

  “I’d bring a map.”

  “Too dark,” he shoots back. “You wouldn’t be able to see.”

  “I’d bring a light,” I reply, quirking a smug eyebrow.

  He smiles, bringing a hand up to tenderly caress my face. “You are my light.”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Mia

  It’s too bright.

  I woke up with my face buried in my pillow, Mateo’s lips making their way across my shoulder blade, and the head of his cock breaching my entrance.

  Not out of the ordinary for me, to be honest—but it’s not normally so bright outside. I guess Mateo let me sleep in today. Now that I’ve recovered my breath, I curl up in the shelter of his arms, my lips magnetically drawn to his chest. I love kissing his chest. I love kissing any part of this man.

  Mateo runs his fingers through my hair and cradles my head so he can lean in and give me a kiss on the forehead. “Good morning.”

  I grin, snuggling closer. “It is a good morning. You know what, though?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to bang the bride before the wedding.”

  “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. Wedding day or not, why would I waste a perfectly good morning not fucking you?”

  I shrug. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.”

  “Well, I don’t follow them,” he states, lightly squeezing my side.

  Sighing with contentment, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe today is actually here. I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

  “And wear your new shoes,” he reminds me. “I know that’s the part you’re really excited about.”

  I grin. “Obviously. I don’t get out of bed to marry the man of my dreams unless there are pretty shoes involved.”

  “To be fair, I’d much prefer staying in bed. For the next two weeks, that’s all we’re doing—each other and the beach. Nothing else.”

  “Sounds like my kind of trip.”

  “Sounds like my kind of life,” he states, smirking.

  “Someday,” I promise. “I can’t bring the beach, but you can fuck me all you want. After today, you legally own me—isn’t that how it works in this family?”

  “I’ve always owned you.”

  “I’m just saying, you should send my mom a tribe of goats or something.”

  He chuckles. “I’m going to now. She’ll be so confused.”

  I grin, pressing a few more kisses to his chest. “We should get up. My tummy’s starting to feel shifty.”

  “At least it waited until after we finished. I’d say that level of consideration points to it being a girl.” He reaches down to pat my belly. “I approve.”

  “If I make it through the wedding without throwing up all over my dress, then I’ll be impressed.”

  Raising an eyebrow, he uses his commanding voice to tell my stomach, “You hear that? The expectations for your behavior have been set. I’m not a man who likes being disappointed.”

  I smile helplessly, shoving his shoulder. “I don’t think the baby’s ears even work yet.”

  “That’s no excuse,” he states, reaching down to massage my tummy with his fingers.

  I sigh happily, leaning my head against his chest. I know he’s a weird robot about pregnancy, but I’m so excited to be doing this with him, regardless of the biology involved.

  Unfortunately, the baby is apparently not excited about this newest command and rebels hard. I have to rip back the blankets and sprint to make it to the toilet.

  When I stand, grimacing, Mateo is leaning in the doorway. He looks sexy as all get-out, even with the unimpressed, knowing look on his face. “Maybe it is a boy, after all.”

  ---

  “For the love of God, you have enough pictures.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” I tell Francesca, as she continues to point her phone at me while a make-up artist makes me pretty. “There can never be enough pictures.”

  Meg shakes her head, looking at the clock overhead. “We’re fifteen minutes behind schedule. There are eight million Morellis assembled in the other room—it’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. I need sprinklers just to walk down the aisle.”

  I fail to suppress a grin, even if the make-up artist gives me a dirty look for it. “Well, if you’re feeling all hot and bothered after the Morelli parade, Rafe is in town tonight.”

  “Shut up,” Meg says, rolling her eyes.

  Francesca’s eyebrows rise and she looks back at Meg. “Rafe Morelli? My cousin, Rafe?”

  “That’s the one,” I confirm.

  Francesca sighs. “Why can’t you bang someone else’s family members? God. I’m never getting rid of you.”

  Meg grins, taking a seat and watching Francesca frame up another picture. “That’s right, bitch; better get used to me.”

  “If I’m not by now, it’s never going to happen,” Francesca states.

  They bicker, but it’s mostly playful at this point. Francesca got over most of her Meg hatred once she saw Mateo and I were happy, even with Meg included in our relationship. She thought it was incredibly weird, but as long as we were happy, she didn’t care. Now Meg is safely outside of our relationship, so Francesca minds her even less.

  “I’m gonna convince Mateo to move Rafe here,” I decide.

  “No,” Meg says, firmly. “Don’t you dare. Rafe is awful.”

  My head snaps in her direction. “What? No, he is not.”

  “He is!” she insists, eyes widening. “You try to take the guy out for some casual fun and he wants to peer into your soul. What is that?”

  My poor makeup artist yanks my face forward again. “Stop moving.”

  “Sorry,” I murmur. Still, I address Meg, “You’re nuts. Rafe likes vulnerable women; he was just trying to get a little peek. A little something-something to get him going.”

  “Ew,” Meg says. “Vulnerability is gross. He’s gross, with his stupid face and his stupid… grossness.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” I inform her. “You can’t fall in love if you’re not willing to be vulnerable.”

  “False. I’ve done it before.”

  “Yeah? How’d that work out for you?” I shoot back.

  “Touché,” Francesca volunteers.

  “I’m just saying, let yourself live a little.” I try to look over at her again, but the stylist anticipates my move and glares me half to death. “It’s not that scary.”

  Meg pauses pointedly, then says, “Oh, I’m sorry, were you still talking? I’ve trained myself not to hear bullshit anymore.”

  Francesca smirks, coming around to snap a picture of my face. “In that case, it must be like Mateo doesn’t even exist to you now.”

  Meg snorts. “Okay, that was good.”

  Also true. She doesn’t know how true, but there’s no reason she ever needs to. I can’t even imagine how she would feel if she ever heard what he said to me the night of my bridal shower.

  But hey, maybe Rafe can sweep her off her feet. She definitely wouldn’t have met him if Mateo hadn’t dragged her into his life, so maybe it can pay off for her in more ways than it has.

  Francesca shrugs her shoulders, looking a little giddy. “Oh, my god, Mia, you look like such a bride.”

 
“I hope I don’t cry.” Glancing up at the woman putting the finishing touches on my make-up, I ask, “Is it okay if I cry? Is this waterproof? Will I melt?”

  “If you move your face again, I’m going to make you cry and we can test it out.”

  “I like her,” Meg states. “Are you single? I have a not-quite-a-brother-in-law to pair off and I’m looking for someone fun. He’s cute and funny—I think. He doesn’t really come home a lot, but his brother’s a real rascal, so that probably means he’s smart for avoiding him. You like smart guys with sexy bodies?”

  Francesca shakes her head, glancing over at the woman. “Trust me; you don’t want any of this.”

  “I’m gay,” my make-up artist states.

  “Oh.” Meg pauses to consider. “Nope, I don’t think we have anyone for you, sorry.”

  “I’m crushed,” she deadpans. Finally, she drops the last brush back in her make-up bag and collects her things. “My work here is done.”

  “Speaking of people who vaguely hate me, has anyone seen Cherie?” I ask.

  “Didn’t she send back ‘I’d rather die’ on the RSVP card?” Meg asks.

  “Yes, but Maria assured me she didn’t mean it. Or, she probably did, but she was coming anyway.”

  “Nope, haven’t seen her. I did see my old bodyguard though. Man, is he hot. I bet he can fuck a girl without needing access to her soul. I should hook up with him now that I’m a single lady. Do you think he’s into super pregnant exes of his occasional employer?”

  “Good lord,” Francesca comments. “I’m gonna guess no.”

  “I hate Colin,” I state. “He thought they were really killing Vince and he dragged me out of that goddamn house anyway.”

  “He was doing his job,” Meg points out. “He’s freelance; he does what the money tells him to do.”

  “Well, he can eat a dick.”