39. That bitch…
THIRTY-NINE
THAT BITCH…
T he viper was just waiting. Biding her time. Building a case or whatever she thinks she has on me. A week later, on my next session with Dr Armand, Monica waits for me at the door before I can enter the building. Dressed in an impeccable dark blue jumpsuit and perched on heels so high she almost reaches my 6’1 height: the contrast to Vanessa is stark. I don’t want to compare them; they have nothing in common, but it just makes me want to be with my girl as soon as possible.
“Hello, Lino.” Her sultry voice filters through my skull, and I recoil.
Now that I have Vanessa in my life, I realise that I never even thought about what I had with Monica as love. It was what I thought I needed to do. It was lust and affection, maybe even desperation to feel supported, but never love. Never the sweet acceptance that comes with having a true partner. I could never be myself. I was what she wanted me to be.
Fuelled with disdain, I sneer. My voice is cold and devoid of anything but contempt when I address her. “You have the nerve to show up here. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Why should I be? I’m not the one seeing a shrink,” she huffs. Her venom was never quite so blunt. If I had to guess, I think her encounter with Vanessa rattled her. Her words sting but they don’t hurt quite as much as they use to. Despite my anger against my ex-wife, I know she’s sad and desperately clinging to whatever she thinks she can get out of me. That was always her favourite game.
“I’m not ashamed of taking care of my health, Monica. Why are you here?” I ask, giving nothing away. Much like I did most of our time together.
Her smile falls and she slaps a bundle of paper to my chest. “I’m here for what’s mine, Lino. Starting with the house and the children.”
I laugh, deep and sinister. “Your delusion knows no bounds. No judge on the island will give you custody after you abandoned them to do God knows what.”
“I was finding myself again,” she yells.
A hand comes to my shoulder as Vanessa slides up next to me. “What’s going on here?” she asks as she eyes my ex-wife with suspicion.
I kiss her forehead and Monica’s face falls at the blatant proof of affection I’m giving someone who isn’t her. I turn my attention back to her as I hold Vanessa’s hand. “I don’t give a shit what you want. You lost any chance of getting anything from me the moment you walked out on Anton and Livia. If you’re smart, you’ll settle on seeing a moderator and supervised visitation. That’s generous of me and I’m doing it for them. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
I press into her space and she moves to let us into the building, fumbling for a response, but I don’t give her the chance to speak. I close the door on her fuming face. Before I can walk up the stairs that lead to Dr Armand’s office on the second floor of the old building, Vanessa holds me in place and crashes her mouth to mine. The kiss steals my breath. And I don’t care.
“Is it wrong that I’m turned on, right now?” she asks, breathlessly.
Her hands turn frantic as she grips my shirt and pulls me closer to her. Our tongues tangle and I lose myself. From the very moment I saw her, I lost any sense of decorum when it comes to her. I press her harder against the wall in the shadowy corner of the hallway.
“Do you need Daddy to take care of that needy pussy, zitella ?”
“Oh fuck, yes. It turns me on when you get all possessive. And when you swear.” Her cheeks pinken and I grin, kissing along the column of her neck like a man starved.
“Do you, now?” I taunt. “You want me to tell you how hard and fast I’m going to fuck that tight little cunt? How I’ll have you dripping cum while you wait in the doctor’s office, all prim and proper but covered in her daddy’s spent?”
She moans and nods, then fumbles to get my cock out of my pants. Bunching up her dress, she slides her panties to the side, desperate for it, and we both groan as I slide in with no resistance. “Such a dirty girl, zitella . Feel how wet you are at the thought of me breeding you?”
Just like I promise, I take her hard and fast. I lift her ass up and she wraps herself around me, clinging to my chest with clawing hands. Her finger nails drag against my scalp and neck and I know I’ll have marks but I don’t fucking care. Let my therapist and the nurse and the entire fucking city know who I belong to.
“Touch your clit, zitella ,” I command, and she snakes a hand in between us.
I pound into her, her walls clamping down around me, making me see stars and coming fast and hard, like I promised. Her legs wobble as we let go of each other. Vanessa gives me a dopey smile and we fix our clothing like teenagers caught red- handed. We weren’t, which is a good thing because I don’t think I could have stopped. I feel so light and young. Not even the bad memory of our interaction with my ex can dampen to my mood.
I should have held onto that thought.
We’re picking up Anton and Livia from school, as has become our routine, when Monica steps out of a black Sedan and walks to us, cooing and calling out for them. “My babies, hi,” she says enthusiastically as she bends her knees.
Livia yells and runs behind me while Anton stops in his tracks.
That… bitch .
I rarely swear. It’s yet another technique to keep my emotions hidden and in check, but I can’t stop the onslaught of insults I want to throw at her. I grind my teeth instead and clench my hand around Vanessa’s. I stop myself before I can hurt her, even unintentionally.
“Mamma?” Anton asks, sounding uncertain and frightened, like he’s dreaming her instead of seeing her in the flesh.
“Aren’t you going to kiss your mamma, baby?” she asks, but it sounds unhinged and terrifying.
I drop onto my haunches and pull him back against my chest, Livia at my side. If Monica believes she can get me to do anything for her now, she’s mistaken. I’ll play nice in front of the kids, but she’s in for a reckoning. My head almost spins as I remind myself I have the best lawyer on the island and she just made her bed, having refused the mediation I offered.
“Mamma is back, figliolu , but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course they want to see me. We should go back to the house so I can spend time with you.”
At least she didn’t say ‘our house’. She isn’t welcome there and given the body language of my children, she makes them uneasy or downright scared.
Livia starts to cry and I pick her up in my arms as I stand, while Anton takes Vanessa’s hand and doesn’t say anything, eyeing his mother warily.
“If you thought this was a good idea, now you know how wrong you were,” I tell Monica. She has the decency to look downtrodden. But nothing she can do or feel can make me pity her. She wants war, then she’ll have it.
“You!” She points a manicured finger at Vanessa. “You set them up against me. What lies did you tell them?”
Livia cries harder against my chest and Anton starts as well. I step in front of Vanessa, shielding her from the onslaught of my ex-wife’s vitriol.
“Enough. Don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her. I gave you the chance to settle this like adults, to find a solution that would allow you to see Anton and Livia in a way that would work for them. Yet, you had to come here and throw a tantrum. I’m done with giving you grace.” I place a crying Livia into the stroller Vanessa is pushing. “Stay with Vivi,” I tell my children, then take Monica by the arm to walk her further away. I don’t want the children to hear what I have to say. “If you step near us again, I won’t hesitate to deal with you, permanently . Do you understand?”
“Are you threatening to kill me, Lino?” she asks, her voice high pitched. She’s mocking me, but the fear that coats her is visible in the drop of sweat on her forehead and the tremble of her hands.
“I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect them. Now, leave. We’ll see you in court.”
She doesn’t move. Her mouth trembles, but I can feel she’s about to say something damning. She looks at the kids and Vanessa, who stares at me with worry written all over her gorgeous face.
I walk away, but Monica slithers a hand to my wrist and stops me. When I look back at her, my eyes convey all I need to say and she drops it like I burnt her. “I want money,” she says.
“Are you joking?” I spit the words.
When she told me all those months ago that she needed time for herself, to go soul searching, a small part of me understood and wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Being a mother can be hard. I wanted her to find the happiness she so desperately searched for so she could be a good example to our children. These thoughts dissolve to nothing as I watch the mother of my children ready to abandon them for cash. I have nothing left for her but disdain and pity.
“No,” I say before I march to my family, holding my son against my chest as we walk back to our house. This evening is going to be difficult, but I’ll weather any storm for them.