37. He’s mine
THIRTY-SEVEN
HE’S MINE
“ W ho are you, and what are you doing in my house?” Monica asks with disdain written all over her perfect face. Long blonde hair frames a dainty face with a button nose, the carbon copy of Livia’s. My stomach dips with a mix of fear and anger. Fear at what her presence will mean for Lino and the children, and anger because she doesn’t deserve to be called a mother, and certainly doesn’t belong here.
I cross my arms over my chest, matching her energy. “I’m Lino’s girlfriend and you aren’t welcome here. How the fuck did you get in?”
She laughs then sneers, her face turning spiteful. Red fills my vision as I imagine myself strangling the bitch. I’m pretty sure Alana would help me bury the body. I shake myself out of my violent daydream and deal with the problem in front of me like an adult instead. “You aren’t welcome here,” I repeat. “You need to leave.”
Monica ignores me and takes a glass out of the cupboard before filling it with my favourite wine that I keep in the fridge. It’s only 9 in the morning but that’s the least of my concern. The way she walks around the space like she belongs here is. She takes a slow sip, never breaking eye contact, then walks and sits on the sofa, crossing her long legs, one of her arm casually resting on the back of it. “I’m not leaving until my husband gets home. We have much to talk about.”
“Ex-husband, and he has nothing to say to you .” I spit the last word.
“I’d beg to differ,” she says with a smirk, like I’m out of a salacious joke. But joke’s on her, because I know Lino intimately, down to his darkest desires and why she left. If she thinks I’m a young fling she can walk all over, she’s about to be disappointed.
I advance on her, my own smile predatory and unhinged. Her smile drops, eyes widening, and she uncrosses her legs anxiously. I crowd her until I’m looking down at her.
“Let me be very clear with you, Monica. You don’t know who I am, but I know everything about you. Down to how unfit you are to be a mother and a wife.” It’s a low blow, but I don’t fucking care, too lost in my rage. “I love Lino, and I love Anton and Livia.” She opens her mouth to cut me off but I don’t let her and raise a hand before she can spew any bullshit at me. “Don't even think about talking over me. You’re not here for Lino. If you are, it’s to hurt him and I won’t allow it. If you still haven’t sued him for this house or anything he fucking owns, you know it’s because you don’t have a leg to stand on. If you’re here for Anton and Livia, I’m sure we can find a way for them to see you, and that would be gracious of Lino. But you and I well know that a judge would never give you an inch, given that you fucking abandoned them for eight months.”
Her hands tremble and her teeth clench, rage obviously bubbling under the surface. I thought she was beautiful at first, but the pretty package she’s wrapped in doesn’t hide the ugliness of her soul. She downs her glass and places it on the coffee table.
I take a step back to allow her to get up and leave.
“You’ll hear from my lawyer,” she warns before stomping to the entrance, but I follow after her.
“Monica. Leave the key.”
She huffs and unclasps the key to the house from her designer key holder before slapping it on the console table with a resounding smack. “Count your days, little girl.” She tries to scare me, but she doesn’t know what hell I come from. Nothing she says can scare me away from the Marquesi.
I open the door and smile, my lips turned in a sinister sneer. “Please do remind your lawyer that he’s not only going against the Marquesis, but the Morettis and Bartolis as well.”
I watch as she power-walks out of the mansion grounds, pettily satisfied when her stilettos get stuck into the gravel. When she’s gone, I close the door then go back into the living room and collapse onto the sofa, my energy drained to its last drop. And it’s not even 10 am.
I massage my temples, trying to get rid of the headache this woman just gave me. Lino’s worth putting up with this nightmare for. Anton and Livia are worth it, too. As much as I hate it and begin to hate her, she’s still their mother and if she’s back after so long, she wants something. I don’t want Lino and the children to go through more heartbreak, so I pick up my phone and dial the only person I know who can help me.
“Vanessa, how can I help you?” Alana’s low voice filters through the phone, reminding me that she’s a ruthless woman who can kill in a blink of an eye. Allegedly.
“Monica is back,” I tell her.
“I know. My husband has been trying to contact Lino for days now.”
“What?”
She sighs heavily. “He and Lino work closely together and Lino asked Lisandru,”—I gather it’s her husband's first name—“to find her. He did, but he’s in the UK right now and tried to call Lino, but the fool isn’t answering.” Aggravation spills into her voice and my need to defend him rises up again.
“He’s fighting his own demon, Alana. He doesn’t need this shit.”
“Careful, Miss Winfrey,” she warns.
“Sorry, sorry.” I tug on my hair. “Lino isn’t well, Alana, and this won’t help. I don’t know what to do, but I need your help with Monica.”
“Leave her to me. If she files for anything, I’ll be the first to know. Is there anything else?” she asks.
“Actually, there is. Lino needs to take time off.”
After she agrees, Alana and I hang up and I call my best friend, who I hope will help me find the help Lino needs. Jade’s been living here forever and has been in therapy for a while. She spoke to me more openly about it as we started going on weekly lunch dates and grew closer. She was busy with her own drama over the summer, so I haven’t seen her in two weeks and I’m dying to know if her situation has changed but I need to care for Lino more.
After a few texts and a promise to catch up with her this weekend, she gives me the number of Dr Armand, her therapist, but before we can move forward, I need to talk to my man.
My heart thumps in my ears and I wipe my clammy hands on the sides of my flowy dress before entering the bedroom without knocking. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark, the curtains still pulled closed, but when they do, I see Lino’s unmoving form.
I wipe the stray tear that escapes the corner of my eye and walk to him before sitting next to him. His breathing is ragged and shallow. With soft fingers, I caress his cheek and glide my fingers through his hair.
“Lino,” I call out. “Baby, wake up.”
“What time is it?” His voice sounds raw and unused.
“It’s eleven forty.”
Instead of alarming him, he groans and turns away from me, giving me his back. The rejection stings, but the difference in his behaviour alarms me more.
I get into bed with him, my arms snaking under his, to clutch his body to mine. He doesn’t refuse my touch, but takes my hand in his and remains still. I don’t talk, letting him open up when he’s ready. My lips kiss the back of his neck in light touches, reassuring him that I’m not going anywhere.
The clock on his nightstand shows five to noon.
Then past twenty.
“Baby, you need to get up,” I suggest softly.
He doesn’t answer for a long time. Then, barely above a whisper that I have to strain to hear, he says, “I can’t. It’s too hard. And I heard her downstairs.” His breaths come in pants and half sobs.
“She’s gone. Can you tell me how you feel?” I ask.
“Like my muscles won’t obey me. They’re heavy like lead. And my mind, it’s foggy. I don’t even know what day it is. I know why I need to get up; I always think about them, you know. But I can’t. I don’t even want you here. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
My heart breaks into tiny pieces and I swallow the tears of compassion that want to fall. If I want to be there for him, it won’t be with an abundance of emotions that will overwhelm him and add to his pain. I have to be a safe and steady haven and I want to give him that.
“You never have to hide from me,” I say before I kiss his neck again.
“Leave me, please,” he pleads, no sign of the commanding man I know in his tone.
“I can’t do that,” I answer. “Why don’t you come down for some food?”
“I’m not hungry. And don’t want them to see me like this.”
Shame coats him like a second skin, but I refuse to let it settle and rust the core of who he is.
“They’re at school. It’s just us,” I tell him.
Lino grunts like it doesn’t change anything. I’m unsure what to do. A man like Lino, hard working and stern, might like a bit of tough love, but I can’t bring myself to berate him. He’s self-conscious enough to know where his faults lie and right now, I can almost see the self-esteem leaving his body with the rest of his strength.
His usual glowing grey aura is a pitch black halo around him that even I can’t penetrate. But I try nonetheless. “Let’s get you into the shower, then.”
“I don’t feel like moving, Vanessa.”
My name on his lips is a whip, cutting and final. But I’ve never been a quitter.
“You can use my name all you want, Lino. I’m not leaving. I’ll bring you some soup and leave you alone if that’s what you want. Otherwise, I’ll set up my computer here and study. You don’t have to talk or stand or shower or do anything you don’t want to. But I’m here. And your kids? They’ll be here tonight. I’ll take care of them and?—”
“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he says, still avoiding my gaze.
I ignore him. “I’ll take care of them because I love them and because that’s what a partner does, and because I love you. You, Lino. Everything that you are, not just the light. You said we’d be partners, didn’t you?”
“It was before,” he says, dejected.
“Before what?”
Silence greets me as he weighs his words.
“Before what, Lino?” I repeat.
“Before you found out who I really am. Weak. Depressed. Unfit.”
His words make me freeze me but they help me make sense of all this. I knew Lino was someone who had a more pessimistic outlook on life, that he didn’t see everything with bright colours like I do. It doesn’t bother me. The self-hatred he feels is putting him in a darker place, one where I’m not sure I can reach him, but I’m determined to try.