31. Chapter 31 - Cole
I listen to Emiliano tell his story, equal parts grateful and pissed off. Grateful because I finally understand why he won’t let Natasha die, and it’s actually a respectable reason. It’s not because he cares for her, it’s because he cares for Matteo. I can respect that, even if it puts us in a difficult situation. How will she act if we let her live? Will she make our lives difficult? Compromise a future alliance? Will she complicate everything we’re working hard to accomplish?
Something tells me the answer is yes, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I know Emiliano will do everything in his power to protect her now, especially with Matteo on the edge of making a decision. A selfish part of me wishes he didn’t give a shit—that he wasn’t willing to meet his mother. She abandoned him after all, hasn’t cared about his well-being or becoming a part of his life in the last twenty years. I know if she had, Em would’ve given her a chance.
I’m still angry, though. Mostly because Emiliano didn’t have the decency to tell me himself. I know what this is. He knows I’m listening in, and he’s taking the easy way out. He doesn’t want to face me; he wants me to find out this way to avoid explaining himself. If he thinks I’m going to just let him get away with this, then he’s sorely mistaken. I deserve to have this conversation with him. Emiliano will have to explain himself to me. It’s what partners do. They communicate—and I’m not letting him off the hook.
Listening to the story of how he and Natasha met has been torture. Jealousy has always consumed me when it comes to Emiliano, but this is different. He actually has a child with the bitch, so she means something to him, even if he denies it. And listening to this proved that. He pursued her, yet what was I expecting? Of course he did. It shouldn’t bother me. It was twenty fucking years ago. She can’t mean that much to him if he hasn’t made any effort to go after her. Besides, she’s married now. He can’t still be hung up on her. Right?
Fuck, the doubt that consumes me is all encompassing. I shouldn’t feel this way—don’t want to feel this way—but I can’t help it. I’m doubting everything between us. Didn’t he know this would happen if we didn’t have a simple conversation? Why is he being a coward right now? It makes me want to storm out of this room and confront him, but I also know that if I do that, it will scare Matteo off. He’ll see me and bolt, and I really want to know how this story ends. Mostly because I’m curious, and if he’s not going to tell me himself, then I’m going to take advantage of this moment.
I focus intently on Emiliano’s voice, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice light because he doesn’t want Matteo to flip out. He’s trying to come off as soothing, but he’s just pissing me off even more.
“You don’t need the details of what happens next—I’m sure you can guess—but the most important part is that the condom broke.”
My heart plummets to the floor, and I don’t even know why. I mean, she had his baby, for fuck’s sake. But why does it make me irrationally jealous that she had his cum inside of her? I knew that, logically, but hearing about it makes me bristle.
“I figured as much,” Matteo says slowly. “Though I thought maybe you guys had unprotected sex.”
“Never,” Emiliano rushes to say.
“But you’ve had it with Cole?” Matteo asks, and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. Forcing his words out.
“I don’t want to talk about Cole.” Em sighs, and I hold my breath. “I just need to know if you want Natasha in your life.”
Matteo laughs, an ugly fucking sound, and my stomach drops. He hates us. Hates his dad. I can tell. “And what if I want to talk about him?”
“Then we can do it another time,” Emiliano snaps. “When he’s not listening.”
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s listening!” Matteo shouts. “Why does it fucking matter, anyway? You’re going to tell him everything I say.”
“Not if you want to keep it between us.”
“I don’t care to keep anything between us,” Matteo says. “He’s dead to me.”
“Don’t say that?—”
“Why not?” Matty chuckles, and I feel dead inside. “It’s the truth.”
“You don’t mean it,” Emiliano whispers, yet I can still hear it. The house is so silent. “You can’t.”
“Oh, but I do,” he says slowly. “How does it feel to have my scraps, Dad? I had my cock in him first, so many fucking times. Do you really think he doesn’t think about that? Me? Are you that fucking delusional?”
I flinch, then hear the slap from a mile away. Emiliano hit him. Oh, fuck, this isn’t good.
“Shut the fuck up!” Emiliano growls. “Don’t talk about him.”
I hear flesh connecting with flesh, and I get up from my place on the floor and rush out to the living room. Matteo is shaking his hand out, and Emiliano is sprawled out on the couch. Not one to give up, he gets up quickly, rubbing at his jaw. I rush toward them, ready to go against Matteo, when he turns to me with sad eyes. It does something to my heart. I don’t like seeing him this way, and I hate that we did this to him.
“It’s true, right?” Matty asks me, and my heart breaks just a little more. “You still think about me?”
“Yes.” I nod slowly, and Emiliano flinches. “But not in the way you want me to…”
“Then how?” Matteo asks, his voice breaking.
“I think of you as my best friend who’s had my heart for forever,” I whisper, “and how I want you back. But I don’t think of you romantically, Matty. Not anymore.”
“I fucking hate you,” Matteo growls. “Both of you.”
“I know.” My eyes sting, and a tear trails down my face. Matty watches it as it trails down my neck and soaks my shirt. “I’m so sorry.”
“But you don’t take it back?” he asks, voice hoarse. “You won’t leave him for me?”
I shake my head. “No, Matty. I can’t.”
“Let me guess.” He chuckles. “You’re going to say you’re in love with him.”
My bottom lip trembles as more tears trail down my face, but I nod. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop fucking saying that!” he shouts. “It means nothing to me. Fuck your apologies, and fuck you , Cole!”
I flinch. “I deserve that.”
“No, Cole,” he says through gritted teeth. “You deserve worse.”
Matteo looks between Emiliano and I, then trains his gaze on my face. He shakes his head and goes to the elevator without another word. He doesn’t even say goodbye before leaving, unceremoniously hitting the button to close the door. Not that I planned on chasing him. He has to know that. While I love him with all my heart, I have Emiliano to think of, and I don’t want to put our relationship at risk. I can’t—won’t.
Emiliano sits on the couch, but I can’t bring myself to do the same. Instead, I let myself crumble to the floor, my knees hitting the hardwood. Sobs wrack my body, and before I can process what’s happening, Emiliano is suddenly by my side, enveloping me in his strong arms. I don’t know how long I cry for, only that my body is exhausted by the end of it.
Matteo is never going to forgive me; that much is obvious now. I should’ve seen it before, and maybe I had, but I was definitely in denial. Selfishly, I thought that after everything we’ve been through, he’d find it in his heart to forgive me. But do I really deserve it? I don’t think I do. I know I don’t. It still doesn’t stop me from hoping and praying that it happens one day. Even if it takes twenty years. I have to hold on to hope.
I straddle Emiliano against the couch, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I can’t breathe in through my nose, and I wish I could smell him right now, let his scent soothe me. Instead, I settle for his warmth. He rubs soothing circles on my back, and I press a kiss to his throat. He needs comfort as badly as I do, if not more. I may be losing my best friend, but he’s losing his son. The one person he’s dedicated his whole life to. I know it can’t be easy—and yet he chose me. Every day he’s choosing me. I can’t take that for granted. So, as much as it pains me to do so, I stand up on shaky legs and offer him my hand. He stands up too, and I lead him to the bedroom wordlessly.
Stripping Em’s clothes and my own, I let them fall to the ground. We can clean them up later. Right now, I need to be in his arms. I need to seek comfort in the only way I know how. It feels wrong to push for more, so when we’re finally lying down, I just let him spoon me and close my eyes—pretending to fall asleep. Eventually, Em’s breathing slows down, deepening, and I know he fell asleep. I don’t have the same luck, though. My eyes hurt from all the crying, yet I can’t seem to stop. I can’t breathe in through my nose still, and my pillow is soaked from my tears.
I snuggle closer to Emiliano until our bodies are plastered together. His skin is hot, and I know we’re going to be sweating soon, but I can’t bring myself to move away. This is the only place I feel safe right now. The only place where my pain is a little dulled. I don’t want to think about it anymore; if I do, I’ll keep crying. So this time, when I close my eyes, I let sleep take me under. I’ll deal with the repercussions of today after I wake up. Until then, I let myself be held through the pain.
Emiliano will make the pain better.
He always does.