unscathed. Sure, Ruby had left her debt to her daughter, but she’d paid the price when Nick died. She’d lost everything, and for what? Stupidity and a daughter she never wanted.
One of John Lennon’s songs came on through her phone, and she had to quickly shuffle it away. His pain at how much his mother hadn’t wanted him, how his father had abandoned him, stung far too close to home. She’d put it on the phone because she did like it, but it was a song she only listened to when she felt at her strongest.
The tires of her car crunched along the driveway as she came to a stop in front of Matteo’s house. “House”, she scoffed to herself silently, mansion more like. She looked up at the white façade, the promise of luxury and opulence conveyed by the exterior - a promise that was kept inside. She’d wandered the halls, the rooms, and found only luxurious extravagance. Now, she was on the verge of being able to live in a house like that.
She had barely even switched off the car engine when Matteo swept out of the front door, but he paused on the top step. He stood there, taking in the car in his driveway. She looked back at him through the open window and felt her pulse race in her throat. He looked so handsome, so… expectant. It made her heart race a little harder and she could all but hear the blood as it rushed by her ears.
With unsteady fingers, she pushed the door open and got out of the car to stand by it. The driveway wasn’t exactly the place she’d expected to have this conversation, but it was private. That lurking hulk of an employee that he had wouldn’t be able to hear them, and she could get back in her car and drive away if it got too sketchy.
She put her hand up, her fingers splayed, to greet him. Slowly, he came down the steps, and she admired him behind her cheap sunglasses. Dark blue jeans sculpted his muscles perfectly, and the white knit top he had on hugged him just right. His body was gorgeous, took her breath away, but it was his face, his mouth, and his silvery-gray eyes, that held her captive.
“Hi,” he said simply as he came to stand in front of her, his hands in his pockets as he took her in. He looked like a teenager that was groveling out an apology and all she wanted to do was take him in her arms.
He’d lied to her, allowed her to depend on him, to fall in love with him. She couldn’t give in to her body’s response to him, no matter how strong the urge was. She pushed her sunglasses back up her sweat-slickened nose and looked down at herself.
She had on a pair of cheap jeans, a thin black long-sleeved shirt, and her ever-present flip flops. She didn’t look like a million bucks, but she didn’t care. She wanted to get this over with. She stiffened her neck, pretending to be unscathed so that she could speak without a quiver in her voice, “Hi.”
She took a deep breath and leaned back against the car, trepidation hammering at her nerves. What did she say?
“I’m sorry, Marie,” he said softly, so softly she almost missed it.
“Don’t be,” her head turned away from him as she told a lie she didn’t want to speak. “It’s not like I thought any of this was real.”
“But… it was.” He sighed. “Most of it. Some of it.”
“Whatever.” Her arms came up over her breasts, to ward him off or to protect her heart from him, she wasn’t sure which. “Look, you know what position I’m in, so if you want a wife you’ve bought, then I can only agree, right? I just need a little time to get used to the idea.”
“How much time?” he asked quickly, perhaps afraid she’d change her mind if he delayed in answering. He hadn’t looked at her either. He’d just stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes on that monstrosity of a house. The sunlight that glared from it made him squint and she wondered where his sunglasses were.
“A month?” She paused, licked suddenly dry lips, and took a breath. “I don’t plan to ever do this again, so I’d like to find a decent dress. My debts, my mother’s debts, will be cleared after this, right?”