Chapter 15 #2
“Paying for dinner.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I insist.
“Delilah, what kind of man do you take me for?”
“The kind of man who makes me orgasm twice and then lets me pay for dinner.” The woman opens the window and reads out our order. Before Matteo can respond, I practically throw myself across his lap to give her my card.
We agree to eat at his apartment a few blocks away—in the complete opposite direction of mine despite him telling me it was on the way earlier—both because I’m not ready to talk to Nic (if she’s even in a talking mood) and because I want to see where he lives.
Once we’re on the way, he asks, “So are you going to explain or am I going to have to pull it from you?”
“Pull what from me?” I respond innocently.
“Delilah.”
I sigh. “You paid for our last dinner and for Chase’s tab, and I’ve been so out of it, I forgot to pay you back.”
“I didn’t do either of those things with the expectation that you would.”
“I know. I know that. It would just make me more comfortable if you let me.”
It’s clear from his bewildered frown that he wants to push it. Putting my card back into my wallet, I pluck out the tattered photo. When he slots us into a parking garage and shifts the car into park, I hand it to him.
“Mom, Chase, and me.” It’s not an answer to his question, but I need a few more seconds to get my thoughts together.
Matteo runs his thumb over the corner, a small smile lighting his face. “You were very cute.”
“Wow, is that your first time using that word? Good job,” I tease. “And am I no longer cute?”
He hands the photo back. “I would not describe you as cute so much as…incredible. Stunning. Jaw-droppingly beautiful. Un tesoro.”
“Oh.” I fold it up and put it back into my wallet, face warm. “Thank you,” I whisper.
I still haven’t answered the looming question, but Matteo simply grabs the food. “Ready to go up?”
“Wait,” I blurt out. “It’s…I have this debt calculator that hangs over my head.
Since I was, I don’t know, eight or nine.
It’s a constant reminder of all that I owe the many people in my life.
I refuse to become indebted to anyone else, because I don’t even know how I’ll pay back the people I already owe.
” Like the Wards. And the members of our community in Tampa. And the girls.
“Delilah…”
“After Mom left, we figured out how to get by.
I figured out how to get by. I made sure we kept getting payments from the state.
That Dad was presentable when he needed to be.
I made money for the family when Dad was out of commission, and I cooked and cleaned up after Chase and the twins, even with school.
“I’ve been taking care of us for years, and I can continue to do so for a few more.
I don’t like accepting charity from anyone, even if it’s only a meal.
I’ve worked hard to get to where I am—to get to a point where I can almost comfortably afford living rather than scrounging two pennies together and practically begging at the grocery store.
” I swallow. “That helplessness, that feeling like it could all be gone in a moment and that I won’t be able to take care of my siblings, it’s what drives me.
I’m so thankful and forever indebted to everyone who has helped me, but if my family is struggling, it’s going to be me that pulls us out of it now. ”
I know I sound too proud for someone in my situation, but it’s because of my situation and all that I’ve built that I am proud.
My siblings have nutritious food instead of ramen and cereal, smart phones so they don’t have to memorize numbers and borrow from others, a working TV instead of the beat-up one I had growing up that functioned twenty percent of the time.
They have social lives and friends they relate to because I’ve been able to ease their suffering.
So, no, I am not and will never again be a charity case for someone else, not after all we’ve been through.
Matteo steps out of the car and walks to my side. He bends down to plant a firm kiss to my lips, then helps me out of the car, wrapping my hand in his. “Thank you for dinner, then.”
It’s only after we get into his apartment, our food wrappers on the coffee table, an action movie on and a blanket around my perpetually cold legs, that he pulls me into his lap, my side pressed to his chest.
Brushing hair from my face, he whispers against my temple, “I’ve never met anyone like you.
Without a shadow of a doubt, you are the strongest person I have ever known.
” He squeezes me. “But being strong and accepting help aren’t mutually exclusive.
Someday, soon I hope, your siblings are going to be out of school and find jobs of their own.
The work ethic you’re showing them will help them become independent adults.
That said, they also need to see that it’s important to take care of themselves. ”
Hazel’s “It would be nice to feel like an equal instead of an obligation” ricochets through my head.
What good will I be to them then? It’s a thought I’ve kept a hold on until recently. Will they still need me once they become independent? It was easy to ignore when it was years away, but the thought of it right now…
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Of course. Do you want to stay the night?” He checks the clock on the wall. “If so, we should probably get ready for bed.”
I note the time and nod. There are lots of reasons for me to say no, to end this before it snowballs into something more, but much like the feelings I’m wrestling about letting my siblings free, I bury them.
I fall asleep with little encouragement, nestled in the comfort of Matteo’s arms, where it’s easy to pretend all my problems are nonexistent.
The next morning, before the sun begins its ascent, I wake in a panic. All the concerns I tried to stash away are back with a vengeance. Particularly the ones that relate to us and this fragile relationship.
A relationship built on need; my need to have another stream of income, his need to have sponsors and countrymen see that he’s not “Matteo the Malignant Narcissist.” Us doing whatever this is, blurring lines that should remain unblurred…More than likely, it’s going to lead to issues on court.
Whatever feelings I might have for him, I can’t jeopardize the little stability I could bring my family.
Chase needs to get it together and transfer to a better school, and I need to make sure we have the funds to do that.
A cursory glance around Matteo’s luxurious apartment—elegant, spacious, lots of light with panoramic views and pieces of furniture that each cost more than my rent—tells me money doesn’t matter as much to him.
I have far more to lose.
Plus, my sponsorship isn’t forever. If I want to keep Stratosphere interested in me, I need to be winning. And that means I can’t let this be a distraction.
I leave without waking him, the pressure of my determination sitting heavily on my chest.