Chapter 6
Matteo watched from across the counter, biting the corner of his mouth to suppress laughter.
When I gave up, he pointed toward the 3rd cabinet with his chin.
“You’re terrible at finding things.”
“You’re terrible at helping.”
“I’m excellent at helping.”
He placed his mug aside and crossed the kitchen.
“Just not when you make that face.”
He positioned me between his body and the counter.
There was no force, only presence.
He rested his forehead against mine.
The fine rain had stopped at some point neither of us noticed.
“What if I want forever?” I asked.
Inside that kitchen, it seemed possible to say absurd things aloud.
He smiled—the same small, rare, lethal smile he had allowed in the conference room on the day I should have been fired.
“Then it is forever. I don’t know how to do anything halfway with you.”
The remainder of the day moved slowly in a way I had not known life could move.
Matteo fried eggs.
I burned toast.
We ate on the living-room floor because the house still had no table.
He showed me where he wanted shelves for his records.
I drew the location of my ridiculous armchair on a napkin.
He laughed at the chair.
I laughed at his taste.
Afternoon became evening almost without warning.
We ate leftovers.
He connected the temporary turntable he had carried in the trunk.
I danced barefoot in the empty living room.
At some point, he drew me toward him by the waist, and we stood swaying without rhythm, as though the music were only an excuse.
“You sing terribly,” he murmured near my ear.
“I know.”
“Don’t stop.”
I continued.
I woke in the middle of the night and found his side of the bed empty.
I was not afraid.
It was a new form of fearlessness, still under construction.
I sat at the edge of the mattress, adjusted the shirt I was wearing, and walked barefoot down to the kitchen.
The floor was cold.
Matteo stood against the counter holding an empty mug and looking through the glass wall.
The house was dark except for a small light above the sink.
Either he did not hear me approaching or pretended not to so I could see him that way for 1 second longer.
He was the man who silenced rooms, the man no one dared confront on the most dangerous floor in Chicago, and the man who had entered a warehouse and emerged with a trembling hand.
He stood inside the dark kitchen of the lake house looking outward as though he still did not believe he had permission to be there.
I crossed the cold floor, pressed my body against his back, and wrapped an arm around his waist.
My cheek rested between his shoulders.
He exhaled slowly, like someone who had waited his entire life for that moment.
“Do you ever sleep?” I whispered.
“I’m learning.”
We remained that way without speaking.
His hand found mine at his waist and stayed over it.
His heart beat steadily against my cheek.
For the 1st time, it was calm.
I looked through the window while he breathed.
The lake was smooth, the garden dark, and the trees motionless.
For 1 second, I thought I saw something beyond the last tree at the curve of the property.
I blinked.
There was nothing there.
I smiled against Matteo’s back.
The silence of the lake was so complete that a person could invent things within it.
I tightened my arms.
He turned, kissed my forehead, placed his free hand at my waist, and drew me around to face him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
The small sink light illuminated half his face.
The other half remained in darkness, as it always had.
The part I could see was at peace.
“I’m thinking Monday may not be as terrible as I always believed.”
He smiled slightly.
“Tomorrow is Monday.”
“I know. For the 1st time, I’m not afraid of it.”
He drew me closer and rested his forehead against mine.
We remained breathing together.
The record he had started before bed continued rotating silently on the other side of the room. The needle was no longer touching it. There was no sound, only the record turning as though it too felt no urgency to end.
Standing barefoot on the cold kitchen floor with Matteo’s hand steady against my back, I understood that peace does not arrive with fireworks.
It arrives at 3:00 in the morning in the shape of a man who has finally learned how to stay.
Outside, the lake remained smooth.
For 6 months, there was peace with Matteo DeLuca.
For 6 months, I could breathe without looking over my shoulder. I believed we had survived the chaos and that the dangerous man who slept beside me every night had chosen to protect me rather than destroy me.
Then an anonymous package arrived.
It contained old photographs, concealed reports, and a recording of Matteo’s voice.
His tone was cold and calculated as he gave the order that ended my brother Ethan’s life.
Every kiss he had given me became poison. Every time he had called me his sounded like a sentence I had failed to understand. Through every night when I had surrendered myself completely, he had known exactly what he was hiding.
I confronted him with the package open between us.
Matteo did not deny it.
He did not explain.
He did not ask for forgiveness.
He looked at me in silence.
It was the same silence that now echoed inside me like a door closing forever.
May you like
For the first time, I had to consider that everything between us might not have been love at all, but the cruelest revenge he could have planned.
Disclaimer: This story is fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. Any names, characters, places, or events are fictitious or used fictitiously. No real person or organization is intended to be portrayed.
Related Stories
