by Sam Mariano
Rafe opens his mouth to object, but I hold up my hand to stop him. Flashing the bartender a smile as he finally makes his way over, I tell him, “We’re ready for the bill.”
The bartender nods and goes over the computer to print one up for us.
“Look, I won’t argue that’s my type. But I’ve had a good time with you this evening, and like you pointed out, I’m only in town for the night.” Shrugging, he says, “What’s the harm in mixing it up a little? Something different can be refreshing.”
A helpless grin claims my lips at his wording. I grab what is essentially just a strawberry slushie and take another sip. “Yeah, well, I’m not a refreshment,” I inform him.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, easily.
“I know you didn’t,” I assure him. “It’s nothing personal. I am having fun. I’ve just spent the last four years fitting myself into someone else’s idea of what I should be, and now I’ll be damned if I’m changing my plans because the man I brought with me feels like it. We’re going to the comedy show, we’re going to laugh, and it’s going to be great.”
I wait to see how Mr. Dominant will respond to this, but he seems very good at reading the room and going with it. Instead of showing even the faintest sign of irritation, instead of arguing more when he’s clearly not going to sway me, he lightens up.
“I’m going to laugh if the comedian sucks,” Rafe states, raising an eyebrow at me. “I’m gonna laugh all night long.”
“I’ll still laugh,” I shoot back stubbornly. “Points for trying, buddy. Even bad comedians gotta eat, right?”
The bartender slides a clear glass with the receipt inside across the bar top. I dig in my purse for my credit card, but just as I’m about to place it, Rafe swipes the cup and slides some cash inside.
“Hey!”
“Nope,” he states, offering a polite nod-and-smile at the bartender as he takes it.
“I was supposed to pay,” I inform him.
“You bought the tickets. I bought the drinks. Stop trying to oppress me.”
A little laugh of surprise shoots out of me, but I guess I can’t argue with that. Rolling my eyes, still smiling, I slide off the stool. “Mateo was supposed to pay for our whole night out. He wouldn’t have noticed or cared anyway, but God, can’t you let a woman be petty?”
Amusement dances in his eyes. He grabs my coat off the hook before I can and opens it to help me into it. I roll my eyes, but he clearly expects me to object, so I don’t. “Thank you,” I tell him with exaggerated agreeableness. “Putting my own coat on is so difficult.”
“That’s what I figured,” he tosses back.
My smile slips as his hand drops to the small of my back, then moves to my hip as he escorts me through the crowd. My stomach either objects to or appreciates the contact, dropping like a rock. I’m a little more breathless than I expected, but it’s been a while since anyone’s offered me affection just because they felt like it.
I come to a dead stop as I hear a familiar piano sequence coming through the speakers. Good ol’ Blue Eyes starts crooning The Best is Yet to Come and I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face.
I think Rafe misinterprets my halting for alarm. His gaze sweeps the room and he leans in to murmur, “Something wrong?”
Turning to look up at him, I ask, “Do you dance?”
He clearly wasn’t expecting that question. Also, there’s no dance floor.
“This is my favorite song,” I inform him, pointing upward.
Now he looks around the crowded bar, seeing as I do that there’s nowhere to dance, even if we wanted to. It’s a skinny building to begin with, people crammed at tables with no space between them, barely enough room in the aisle to squeeze past the tables and the people seated at the bar. There’s definitely nowhere to dance. He glances down at me, his brown eyes inexplicably making my stomach feel weird again. Maybe it’s the baby. It doesn’t feel like the baby, but I decide it is and look away.
A couple seconds pass, then he puts a little pressure on my lower back, guiding me forward. At first I think he sees some free pocket I may not have noticed, but he leads me to the door. We’re leaving. A faint trace of disappointment trickles through me, but I shake it off. I’m being silly. Pregnant Meg is the worst. There’s nowhere to dance, and he probably doesn’t want to dance with me and my baby bump anyway.
Get it together, Meg.
Dragging things back on track, I announce, “The reviews for this comedy show are brutal. I hope you’re a fan of ‘so bad it’s good,’ because apparently that happens a lot here. Like, I guess they’re all high and they drink before the show, and I don’t know if you’ve ever been drunk and high, I’m assuming yes, but it makes things a lot funnier than they should be. And I guess the one guy is super offensive in all of the ways—”
“For someone who doesn’t say much, you sure do talk a lot.”
I do, in fact, stop talking. But only so I can turn around and convey with the dead look on my face how impressed I am with the new Morelli’s question. “A woman is to be seen and not heard, is that it?”
He doesn’t answer me. He puts his hand back on my lower back and guides me into an alley. A dark, abandoned alley.
My steps slow, but he keeps urging me forward. “Um… so, Mateo is going to be really pissed if you murder me. He’s worked really hard at getting a son, and I’m finally having one. Did I read this wrong? Are you this mad about the college girlfriend? That seems like a long time for a Morelli to hold a grudge. That’s not supposed to be a Morelli thing. Well, Vince. Vince clearly holds grudges. But you—just trust me on this. Killing me is a terrible idea.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Rafe remarks, casually, as he messes with his phone. “I might put a ball-gag in your mouth to shut you up, but I’m not going to kill you.”
“Says the man who just led me into a dark alley, away from all the people. I have Adrian on speed-dial, you know. He’ll just show up, you won’t even know how, and he’ll just… He was hiding behind a garbage can and you didn’t even know. He’ll douse you in gasoline and set you on fire right here in this alleyway and we’ll stop for milkshakes on the way home. I know we seem pretty civilized with the dresses and the dinner and Mateo all courteous, but we’re actually savages when we need to be. You don’t want to fuck with us. And you know what? Adrian is probably trailing us tonight anyway.” I shift my weight, glancing back at the well-lit sidewalk.
“I’m not afraid of Adrian,” he states calmly, placing his phone down on top of a metal bin stacked outside the back door of this random building.
“Then I don’t trust your—” I hesitate as music starts to play on his phone. Not just music, but Sinatra. The Best is Yet to Come, just like in the bar a minute ago. “—Judgment,” I finish, lamely. I barely miss a beat. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer my inane, uncomfortable question. He just steps forward, taking my hand and drawing me near.
He’s dancing with me.
This is unexpectedly sweet. My stomach twists up in knots; my heart leaps into my throat. Heartburn consumes my chest. I’m tempted to rub my chest to try to ease the anxiety out of it, but he’s holding me in his strong arms, so I can’t.
Actually, I might’ve preferred he try to murder me. Adrian could’ve saved me from that. Adrian can’t save me from whatever this is.
Gross.
I keep my eyes on his chest—his broad, muscular chest. It’s not helpful. Mid-pregnancy makes me horny. Now I’m just admiring his chest. I’d be cool with that, but this whole dancing in the alley thing is a little too slick. With every second that he gazes at me and draws me in, I desire a little more desperately to get the hell away from him.
I can’t let him think it’s working. I don’t know why he had to go and ruin a perfectly good set-up to a one-night-stand. My desire to fuck him has completely evaporated, regardless of how hot he is, regardless of how nice it feels to be in his arms. If he tries t
o get me to open up with my clothes on, it stands to reason he only gets worse once they come off.
Letting him know I’m immune to his tricks, I ignore his pull and ask brightly, “So, do you pretend you’re going to murder all your dates, or just me?”
“I didn’t pretend I was going to kill you, you’re just excessively suspicious of men who lure you into dark alleys. You should really work on that,” he remarks, lightly.
I have to look up at him as I roll my eyes. “No wonder you liked Mia. I bet she followed you into dark corners without a care in the world.”
“She did.” He smirks, watching me. “You talk about Mia a lot.”
“It’s what all the cool kids do,” I inform him.
“Does that hurt your feelings?”
I shoot him a dirty look, wrinkling up my nose. “No. Mia’s my friend. Why would I care if people are obsessed with her? I don’t get jealous. More power to her.”
He doesn’t seem to buy what I’m selling. “You shared a lover. It’s not unreasonable that you would feel a sense of competition with her.”
“Okay, I don’t feel competitive with Mia. There’s no competition. We didn’t…” I stop just short of telling him we didn’t reach Mateo on the same level. I stop short of telling him that while Mateo loved me, it wasn’t like what he felt for her. That while I loved him, I realized watching them together there was something to their relationship that we never got close to. They got there immediately. Like they were meant to be. Nothing and no one could keep them apart—not even me.
I stop short of telling him I’ve never loved someone the way Mia loves Mateo, that I’ve never been loved the way he loves her.
I have never needed someone to breathe.
And I never want to. That’s a terrifying prospect. Look at what happened to Mateo when she was gone. He’s strong as hell, but he let someone into his inner sanctum, then when he lost her, he was heartbroken.
I don’t tell him any of that. I don’t know why I even want to. The heartburn is getting worse and I look away from him again, focusing on the dark, dingy brick building beside us.
He doesn’t let me. Running his hand up the curve of my back, he smoothly guides me into the shelter of his chest, sort of hugging me while we sway. I feel like I’m suffocating. There’s nothing pushy about his actions, nothing forceful—it’s almost protective. Could be comforting, if I let it be. He uses almost no strength, merely suggests the shift, only guides me there, if I want to go.
My chest feels a little like caving in, and that’s before he speaks.
“Tell me something real,” he murmurs. “One thing.”
“I’ve told you lots of real things,” I mutter.
“Not about Mateo, not about Mia, not about Vince or Adrian. Tell me one real thing about you.”
It skates across my mind, the most ridiculous of thoughts. I pursued a relationship with Mateo Morelli, a crime lord, a known wife-killer, an unstable, manipulative hurricane of a man with few morals and unchecked power, and I wasn’t afraid.
Rafe has been nothing but nice to me, and he scares the living fuck out of me.
There’s something about him, something so gently intrusive. He’s much sneakier than Mateo and I don’t like it.
Clearing my throat, I shake off this weird spell and pull away from him. Once again, he exerts no strength, no effort to pull me back. He lets me pull away. I feel his eyes on me as I look everywhere but at him.
“You know what, we need to go or we’re going to be late to the show.”
“The terrible show?” he asks, his stupid tone so knowing that I want to kick him in the shin.
“The ‘so bad it’s good’ show—there’s a distinction. It’s going to be great.”
“Uh huh,” he says, drifting over to pick up his cell phone. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I lie. Then I can’t pass up the chance to call him on his bullshit. “And yes, you were.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn around and head back toward the sidewalk.
Deleted Scene Three
Takes place after Coming Home and part one of Last Words, but before part three of Last Words.
Mia
“I can’t believe this is finally happening. This is going to be incredible.”
“It’s really not,” Elise assures me, shaking her head. “They’re going to wipe the floor with us.”
Mateo and Adrian are both looking quite sure of themselves as they relax in their chairs around the table in the servants’ quarters. At the center of the table, the Scrabble board is set up. Oh, Scrabble Gods, please let all my studying pay off. I want nothing more than to beat Adrian and Mateo at Scrabble.
“I’ve been studying,” I tell her, doling out tiles. “I haven’t played with Mateo in a while, but I think I’m ready.”
“That’s not true,” he remarks mildly. “You just played with me…” He pauses to check his watch. “Two hours ago.”
Elise grimaces. “Overshare. Major overshare.”
“They’re not really into boundaries,” Adrian informs her.
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Elise says, dryly.
“Boundaries are overrated,” Mateo states.
I’m not sure I always believed that, but I find myself nodding in agreement anyway.
“Why don’t we do teams?” Elise suggests. “Instead of every man for himself, we pair up, couple against couple.”
“Women against men?” Mateo suggests, smiling. “This match will last ten minutes.”
“Only in your mind are you and Adrian a couple,” Elise states, smiling faintly. “He’s all mine. You can partner with your wife.”
Mateo shakes his head, leaning over to theatrically confide in Adrian. “Jeeze, Adrian, your wife even gets jealous of me.”
I bite back a little smirk at that one, grabbing the pencil and labeling the notepad “Best Scrabble Game Ever.”
“Not jealous, possessive,” Elise corrects. “And with the lack of boundaries in this house, I like to make sure mine are clearly drawn.” She points at Adrian. “Property of Elise Palmetto. No Morellis have rights to all this awesomeness. Only me.”
I can’t help melting a little. “I’m a Morelli now. Marriage is awesome.”
“I think I have certain rights,” Mateo disagrees. “I pay a lot of money to have certain rights.”
“Jesus, I feel like a piece of meat right now,” Adrian states.
“You love it,” Elise states, flashing him a knowing look. “All of us fighting over your awesomeness. Don’t even try to lie.”
“I mean, I’ve been in worse fights,” Adrian acknowledges.
I clasp my hands together and glance around the table. “All right, let’s get this thing going. Me and Mateo versus you and Adrian. I feel good about this.”
“You shouldn’t,” Adrian informs me, shaking his head sympathetically. “You’re on the wrong team.”
Mateo sits forward now, raising his eyebrows at Adrian. “Should we make things a little more interesting?”
“You wanna put money on it? You could just give a bonus envelope now, save yourself a couple steps.”
“No, not money, a vacation,” Elise interrupts, eagerly. “If we win, he gets a vacation. One week. Paid.”
Mateo shakes his head. “You’re terrible at this, Elise. One weekend, paid,” he counters.
Adrian nods at Elise. “Should’ve asked for two weeks. Didn’t give him any room to negotiate.”
Elise’s lips turn down with annoyance. “Wait, can I change my initial offer?”
“Nope,” Mateo replies.
“We’ll take a Morelli-free weekend,” Adrian states. “What do you want if you win?”
“Couples trip,” Mateo says easily. “You and Elise, me and Mia, one week.”
“No,” Elise bemoans.
“You’re going to be her friend eventually,” Mateo informs Elise. “Just sink into it—and hey, you still get your vacatio
n. My treat.”
“It’ll be fun,” I tell Elise, grasping her arm. “We can go shopping. I mean, probably. Where are we going?” I ask Mateo.
“To be determined. I’m sure there will be shopping. I’m not much for camping.”
“Now that is what I should have asked for,” Adrian states, pointing at Mateo. “You camping. I can’t even envision it.”
“Would we bring Maria? I feel like we would have to bring Maria,” I state.
Elise nods. “We would have to fashion a dinner table out of tree stumps and fallen trees. Cook multiple courses over the campfire. Pre-dinner drinks out of a flask while the women get everything ready.”
“Food attracts bears,” Adrian states. “So a bear shows up.”
I grin. “And Mateo is highly unimpressed with the bear. So he gives it a good verbal assault and flashes his gun.”
“The bear leaves of its own volition, before things get ugly,” Mateo contributes.
Adrian nods his head. “Never mind, I can see it now.”
I wrinkle up my nose. “As much as I’d love to see that, I don’t really want to go camping either. I’m a big fan of amenities. The ability to safely cook food to the appropriate temperature and not just guess. No stinky bug spray. I’m not terribly fond of the wilderness as a whole.”
Mateo nods. “The backyard is about as wild as I want to get. We could camp in the backyard. Maria would probably be willing to bring dinner out there.”
“But even then,” I add, grimacing, “no air conditioning, so it will have to be an early fall trip. And if it gets cold, I’m coming in the house.”
Adrian shakes his head at me. “You’ve ruined camping.”
“We can hit up a city or a beach instead,” I suggest. “It’ll be fine.”
“This conversation is irrelevant,” Elise states. “We’re going to beat you guys and you’re going to have to survive without Adrian for a whole weekend. Neither one of you can call on him for anything. We’re leaving the house and I’m going to hide his phone.”