Chapter 16
chapter sixteen
Natalia
My heels clacked up the marble steps of my parents' Palm Beach mansion as we arrived for my father’s sixtieth birthday. Mateo trailed behind me looking clean and well put together, his parents ambling on his tail to keep up. At the helm of the double oak front doors, dwarfed by the sprawling white stucco home I grew up in, my father was waiting for us with a cardboard party hat on his head and half a rocks glass of amber liquid dancing in his hand.
The last time I saw my dad was before Christmas, when Mateo had secretly asked him for permission to marry me. Since then I’d received short updates on their holiday spent in South America and proof of life via social media activity. It’s not like he and I had anything to talk about anyway, and any attempt would seem awkward or forced.
Our relationship was formal. I didn’t find a common ground with my dad any time after puberty, and that was right about when he started spending more time at the hospital than he did at the house. Having four teenage daughters menstruating on matched cycles drove him into a fritz of overtime hours and drunk days off.
“Welcome to Villa Russo,” he boasted, leaning down and kissing my cheek, then moving onto Mateo with a firm handshake that clapped and echoed off the atrium in the foyer behind him. A thousand teardrop crystals sparkled off a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
“Happy birthday, Dad,” I said. He seemed in a chipper mood, but it was only eight o’clock, and his breath was tainted with the sharp tang of bourbon already. I’d gotten used to that smell, but it still turned my stomach the same way getting sick off a liquor made you never want to drink it again.
Mateo cleared his throat and ushered his parents forward. “John, this is my mother and father, Anna and David."
"Pleasure is mine." My father grinned at the Durans as they gazed up at the house and took it in. It was the self-absorbed smile he wore whenever he got to show off his things.
"Beautiful home," David said, pressing on the crown molding around the door. "You buy this? Build it?"
Mateo laughed and nudged his father along. “Plenty of time for that later, Dad.”
We shuffled down the long corridor hallway to the living room, passing arched doorways that broke off into the familiar nooks. A library, a formal dining room, a large sitting room with cushioned high back chairs in velvet pinks and greens. My mom had a gallery wall of expensive artwork that she switched out quarterly just for shits and giggles as a conversation piece for her haughty guests. The kicker about the sitting room was that no one ever sat in it; it was there to take up the wasted space in the mansion where my parents lived alone with their two dogs and a staff of housekeepers.
"There they are!" my mother crooned across the room, standing from the upholstered sofa in her floor-length blush dress, strappy heels peeking through the slit in the material as she clacked toward us. The cocktail attire for an intimate dinner in the dining room was a choice that I had no say in. Mom's bracelets jingled as she reached up to fix my hair, tucking the loosely curled strands behind my ears and pulling the rest over my shoulder the way she thought it looked best. I promptly flicked it back.
“Nice to see you again, Sistine,” Anna said. “That color looks great on you.”
"Doesn't it?" my mother volleyed back. "It's so nice to finally have everyone in the same room. It's like a test run before the wedding. But with better food." She laughed at her joke, I winced, the mumbled chuckles from the Durans spoke for themselves, and I looked around for a getaway car in the form of Mateo who was already engulfed in uncomfortable conversation with my father and backed into a corner of his own.
Mia peeked her head through the doorway that separated the dining room from the living room, psst ing at me like a cat and waving me in her direction. My mother had corralled the Durans into conversation and I tiptoed away, making it around the corner undetected only to come face-to-face with all three of my sisters in elegant cocktail dresses.
“God, what did I do now?”
"Dad is already toasted." Mia sipped her martini. "I just heard him telling Mateo about the psychology of grocery store layouts."
"Like he's ever been in a grocery store in his life," I snarked. "You'd think a man with a job reliant on sound-mindedness would be less of a blubbering idiot on his days off."
"Our jobs are stressful." Camilla fluffed my hair onto my shoulder just as Mom had and I again tossed it back. "Hospitals aren't for everyone."
"I'm just surprised he's already this far in the bag before dinner," Bella said. "This might be record time for John Russo bowing out of his own party."
"I give him until ten," I said, crossing my arms.
"I'll bet eleven." Bella shrugged.
Camilla inspected a piece of silverware on the table, shining it on the napkin. "Eleven thirty."
"C’mon guys, you know Dad." Mia laughed. "He'll have to take a phone call at some point, and go puke in the bushes by the pool house before coming back for round two."
"We were all doomed from birth," I accepted out loud. "Please, if the three of you love me at all, keep him as far away from Mateo's parents as possible. I have three more months of convincing them I'm suitable for their son."
“Don’t look now, but Dad is challenging Mr. Duran to a game of Operation,” Bella said.
I spun, frantic, but she was only fibbing. My wide, distressed eyes narrowed into slits. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Good thing I’m a doctor,” Cami added eagerly.
It was in my best interest to remove the threat at the source and put as much space between my parents and Mateo’s as possible for the entire night. Letting them congregate in closed-off conversations was a bad idea. They might realize how starkly different our upbringings were and equate the delusory ivory tower for what I expected in our marriage. Anna already thought I was a step away from useless. Before I could let that happen I slipped back into the living room with Mateo and our parents.
The lull before dinner was the perfect time for a tour.
I strategically took the long way through the expansive layout of the house. Even doing the rounds outside, through the garden and around the tennis court. I spent eighteen years of my life here, and yet it was like walking through a place you only see in dreams. Like you know it but you don’t. The halls feel empty, the rooms cold. Even my childhood bedroom where I spent so much of my time hiding, locked away and keeping to myself, didn't feel like safety anymore. A cage with an open door. Sometime in the eight years since I moved out my parents had remodeled it. New off-white paint, neutral furniture, themeless space fillers for yet another guest bedroom. By the time we returned to eat dinner, my father had gone from a boisterous host to a second stage of drunk, sitting at the head of the table, stoically confrontational.
"Did you show them the wine cellar, Natalia?"
"Yep." I popped the 'p' and fluffed my cloth napkin onto my lap.
"There is a Bordeaux down there that costs more than your house," Dad said to me. "Are you two going to finally move out of there now? Find something a little more suitable to grow a family?"
"Something like this?" I circled my finger in the air, mocking the grand dining room and the hanging lights, the table so large you couldn’t have a conversation with someone unless they were sitting on the same end as you.
"We have a great house." Mateo slid his hand down my thigh under the table, landing on my knee and squeezing. “It’s only the two of us. We have a second bedroom and plenty of space to expand with an addition if we needed to.”
A bright smile pulled Anna’s cheeks taut. “I can’t wait to be a grandmother.”
My stomach tilted and an awkward laugh forced itself out of me. Children were always part of our plan, but having such an open discussion in front of my father about eventually being pregnant made me want to crawl out of my skin. Yes, obviously Mateo and I had sex. No, that wasn’t a fact I wanted acknowledged at the dinner table.
Mom commented, "With you both in New York it'll be hard to be involved in a baby's life, won’t it?”
"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Mateo cut in. "We have a wedding to get through."
"Logistically speaking." Mom shrugged. "It’s a conversation you have to have beforehand."
There was a hot bead of sweat accumulating at the nape of my neck and a quickly rising pulse banging like a gong in my ear. The chef my parents staffed regularly for special occasions swept into the room with hot platters of food and set them in the center of the table.
"We have talked about the distance," Anna mentioned. “David and I were thinking it might be worth it to look around for something a little more permanent.”
Mateo’s fork dropped out of his hand and clattered against his plate. "What do you mean?”
“Somewhere we wouldn’t be in your hair,” David added, stabbing a serving fork into the platter of filet mignon and dragging a juicy piece of it onto his dish.
“Like a timeshare?” I cleared my throat. “A vacation rental?”
“Buying is rough right now,” Mia joined. “It’s like a mad dash every single time a new home hits the market, especially in this area. You should hop on it as soon as possible if you’re looking because the perfect place will be here today, gone tomorrow. I can get you in touch with someone if you need it.”
“That’s not necessary,” Mateo said abruptly, turning everyone's head and squeezing my knee harder. Since the disaster at Sunday dinner last month I was quick to worry about him having another panic attack. His mother clearly had a way of bringing those suppressed, anxious emotions to the forefront and we were both blindsided at the moment. The Durans were enjoying their time in Florida, but now I had to worry that it was affecting Mateo considerably more than he let on. I threaded my fingers through his under the table and rubbed my thumb across the back of his hand in slow circles.
“That’s very kind of you, Mia.” Anna raised an eyebrow at her son across the table. “Between the four of you girls, if there’s ever something your parents need, you have it covered.”
Including me in that sentiment warmed my chest. You could easily argue a bank teller had significantly less pull than a pediatric oncologist, an attorney, and a realty mogul. Then again, my connections in the porn industry were worth even less for practicality’s sake.
“We’re very proud,” my dad said. “One thing we always told our girls was you've gotta be rich, or marry a man that gives you the world, so we’re grateful to Mateo for making sleeping at night that much easier for Sistine and me."
“Lovely,” I mumbled under my breath. Matty’s warm hand caressed the back of my neck and his sympathetic eyes caught mine. I wasn’t going to fight over something so trivial. I’d learned that biting my tongue was worth the mental sanity far more often than not. If I got out of this night with nothing but a few scratches that would be a battle won.
“You raised an incredible, indelible, hardworking, and compassionate woman. Traits she's honed artfully on her own, John,” Mateo punctuated, and my first genuine smile of the night sprouted across my cheeks.
"That reminds me," Isabella said, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "Talia, did you look over that paperwork I gave you?”
Oh, no .
My little bit of joy snuffed out with one sentence. The room spun on an axis, like a Gravitron at a carnival with all the screaming and existential dread included. That legal binder was still shoved in the canvas bag I took for errands that day, and that bag was on the floor in the backseat of my car under the extra jacket I always brought but never needed and a garbage bag full of clothes I wanted to donate but never would.
"What paperwork?" Matty tilted his head and this time I avoided his eye contact.
"Nothing important.” My nostrils flared and I lifted my knife slowly, drawing a 'cut it out' gesture at the hollow of my neck.
She ignored me. "The drafted prenup."
Fuck. Fuck in a million different languages. Fuck me with the largest alien dick imaginable.
The room stilled. I was too embarrassed to lift my head but I could feel the tension seeping off my future husband and his parents beside me. Mateo’s hand dropped from my neck slowly and his body turned toward me in his chair. "This is the first I'm hearing about it."
"Christ, Natalia," Bella huffed. "I told you how important it was to get this sorted out so we could move onto the paperwork."
"Your sister is right," my mother said. "She took time from her busy work schedule to do something for you, and you're not taking it seriously."
"I never asked her to," I said, choking on the words as they fell weakly out of my mouth.
"I didn't know this is something you wanted." Mateo was still speaking directly to me, trying to draw my attention, but I was frozen in place. I couldn’t look at him and bear seeing the hurt in his eyes that was evident in his voice.
"We never had a prenup when we were married," Anna chimed in. "It's considered a bit of bad luck where we're from."
"Where we're from, there's money and reputation involved, and I’ve seen things get really dirty when you don't take proper precautions," my father slung back. "It's not bad luck; it's common sense. Mateo might be smart to sign on the dotted line. He's got a business I'm sure he's keen on keeping if it ever comes down to it."
"It's nothing if not a safety net," Mom added.
"This is something I think we'll have to talk about privately," Mateo announced to the room. His plate of food was untouched and going cold, his knee bouncing underneath the table. I finally found the courage to look him in the eyes and they were frantic with the anxiety I was trying to keep tame. “Right, Natalia?”
"Well, it’s no use now," David said. “Everyone has an opinion.”
"I told you, I wasn't interested in the prenup," I said to Isabella, louder and more confidently.
"No, you said you would look it over."
"You were pressuring me. It was to get you off my back.”
"Oh, Natalia, don't be a child," my mother scoffed. "Take some responsibility. You’re twenty-six years old."
"It's very typical," my dad chided, amused in the most condescending, drunk, and arrogant way. “Not everything has to be a fight. You’re getting married and you can’t even make a responsible decision for yourself. Not even when it’s given to you on a silver platter.”
“There’s no decision to be made if it’s not a choice.” I stood, my chair scraping hideously across the floor as I excused myself gracelessly from the table and headed directly to the exit with my gut churning.
There was a rustling behind me and Mateo's voice calling my name once before I turned the corner into the long corridor, made eye contact with the glass double doors at the end of it leading into the backyard, and took off running until I was bursting through and out onto the concrete pavers.
It was raining, soft warm rain that mixed with the humidity and fell like sweat as it came down on my head. My short sprint took more out of me than I expected and I keeled over to catch my breath. The longer I stood there, the more soaked my clothes became, until the material was stuck to me in every uncomfortable place. My feet throbbed inside my heels and I shucked them off and wiggled my toes on the wet ground.
There was so much noise going on inside my head, and though it wasn’t reasonable the world might as well have been collapsing in on me. No matter what I did, it was wrong. Mateo’s parents thought so, and mine only confirmed it. When I thought I was doing the right thing in keeping the proposed prenup from Mateo, it came back and bit me when I least expected it would. Every single turn I took, I hit a fucking wall, and the maze was only getting deeper and darker to navigate myself out of.
I was begging for the hits to stop coming and the chaos to quiet down.
A few feet away the pool was lit up and glistening aqua blue but the pitter-patter of rain made it nearly impossible to see the bottom clearly. I stepped forward, right to the edge. As a kid, it was so peaceful to submerge myself in the water and shut off the world around me. I wanted that right now, and so I did the only thing I could think of, and jumped in.