9. Matteo
9
Matteo
“Sometimes. Life gives you great things. So here I am.” – Unknown
Six Months Later
H ello, Loverly Cave, I hope you are ready for what I have in store for you.
After spending five years majoring in Chemistry with a minor in business, I am more than ready to put my new knowledge to the test.
I always knew I wanted to come home no matter what. I always knew that LPs would be mine eventually, just as I knew I wanted to bring it to a new level—hence my chem degree. Over the years, I’ve created and perfected many drinks, most of which are new, modern twists on good old classics as well as a few completely new creations by me.
Just imagine your beloved dirty martini now in a purple ombre look, with slight undertones of blackberry and mint. Or an old fashioned that doesn’t just have the smoke around it for a few seconds for looks, but one you can actually taste, along with bergamot notes throughout every sip, all the way to the bottom.
And don’t get me started on the holiday or summer themed drinks I have lined up.
I’m seriously getting hard just thinking about how sexy those will be.
Yeah, you can say I’m passionate and excited about this new chapter of my life and I’m eager to start right away. Only, as soon as I step through the front door of Love and Peace bar, my whole body freezes.
How the fuck is this possible?
The space is the same as always with the same mismatched furniture, karaoke station on one side and the long bar on the other. The same pictures that’ve been here for ages, cling to the walls like second skin. The board above still has the same cocktail names on them as the day my mom and dad wrote them out years ago. Yet at the same time, nothing is the same.
Not the laughter I still hear echoing through these walls despite the empty seats.
Not the tentative smiles reflecting from the clean glasses.
Not the scent.
How the fuck can I still smell her in the air here when it has been over six months. Her scent shouldn't be here. Neither are the echoes of her smiles nor laughs. They cannot be here. Yet I swear to God, I can not only smell her sweetness but taste it on my tongue and down in my core.
To say that Zoe messed with my head is not to say anything.
What started as a physical desire for her, became my every waking thought since the morning I woke up to find her gone, leaving just one stray blonde hair on my pillow and that sweet scent in every inch of my space. Or maybe my lungs.
She nestled her pretty, sassy self deep inside my head and refuses to vacate the premises to this day.
In fact, she is responsible for all of the new cocktails I’ve created recently. It was simply enough for me to think of those deep brown eyes for an idea to pop into my head or remember her sweetness and looking through every ingredient until I found the one that reminded me of it.
Hint: Way too many cocktails include lychee and mint combo.
Because that taste is so uniquely her, I had to recreate it.
I often wonder where is she now? Is she still sad like she was that day at the bar or has she found someone to make her days bright and shiny, allowing him to see that secret beast inside her.
Fuck, why does the thought of some other man around her sweetness makes my insides churn.
I am not that guy. Never was and never will be.
Plus, I have no way of finding her anyway, so there is no point in these inner monologues. Yeah, I’ve been trying to persuade myself for the past six months. Newsbreak, it still hasn’t worked.
“My baby boy is finally back home.” My mom rushes from the back, breaking the little daydream I shouldn’t be having and a huge grin breaks over my face.
Willa Loverson might be quirky, a little crazy, a lot hippy and too obsessed with my love life but she is the best human out there. And the most amazing mom anyone could wish for. She worked her butt off to make sure I was able to go to the college I wanted and pursue my dream while taking on the bar all by herself.
Love and Peace was started by my father’s parents and passed on to him when he married mom. They were the happiest couple of Loverly Cave who did everything together and when Dad passed away unexpectedly, Mom never even considered remarrying.
I was ten at that time and saw how many men tried to date her over the years. She’s always had that natural beauty and kindness in her heart that drew everyone to her flame. Much like someone else I know.
But she always told me, “Soulmates happen once in your life, and it wouldn’t be fair to some other man to love him only with half of my heart.” And maybe that’s why I’m not even trying to find mine.
Why allow that kind of heartbreak into your life when I can give them my all for one night? Isn’t that a better trade off?
“Hi, mom.” I wrap her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. She is one tiny woman, plus I know how much she loves it when her son allows himself to show love. Her words, not mine. So I do it. Just for her.
“We are all so excited to have you back! The whole town is buzzing!” she squeaks excitedly, her long, graying hair bouncing around along with the million trinkets she wears around her neck.
“I’m happy to be back too. Even though I downgraded on my dating pool significantly,” I say it with a pout to tease my mom, because sure, I’m a good son—mostly—but I still like to give her a hard time here and there and there’s nothing that makes her more mad than my sleeping around.
I will never forget the day when she found out what I do and called me with panic, yelling frantically, “I raised a manwhore!”
It was quite hilarious.
The thing is, however, that I don’t feel as sad about my dating prospects in LC as I should have. In fact, I haven’t felt like dating—or my version of it—in quite some time. Well, my dick hasn’t really felt like it…moody bastard. He has been giving me a hard—or rather, soft—time anytime I tried to take a girl home.
A little over six months to be exact. And no, I refuse to believe it has anything to do with the blonde perfection I had in my bed all those months ago. I refuse it.
My mom smacks my shoulder and narrows her eyes at me. “Your dating pool here will be just fine.”
“Whatever you say, Ma.” I kiss the top of her head again and pick up my bag to head back upstairs to my apartment. “I’ll go unpack and I’ll be back to help you set up for the day.”
Yeah, unpacking can wait for another day. After I air out this place because if I thought her scent clung to the busy bar, it has nothing on its concentration in here.
Zoe is not just the trace in the air. She is the fucking air here.
Did my dick just twitch in my pants? Fuck, no! You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t get to go on boycott for her. She is not here.
I rush to open the windows to make sure her scent washes out of the room and go back downstairs before I need to take a cold shower.
As soon as I come back, I get to work busying myself with unloading the glasses and prepping the ingredients we will need when mom’s phone dings with a text and she yelps.
I raise my eyes to her and see her smacking her forehead. “I am getting too old and senile!” I chuckle at her dramatics a little because she’s hardly old or senile, but I don’t say anything to her and apparently that was the wrong thing to because suddenly I feel her tiny finger poke me in my ribs and now, I’m the one yelping.
“Jesus, mom, are you trying to make me holey?” I grin. “Get it? Like poke a hole in me but make me holy? Cure me of my manwhoreness?” I scrunch up my forehead. “Is that even a word?”
“Matteo!” She pokes me again, this time with a serious face and I lift up my hands in mock surrender.
“Fine, fine, no jokes. What has got you all worked up?”
“I completely forgot to get the mint from my friend’s house for tonight. She has been growing it for us for the past half a year. I need you to go pick it up.”
“Alrighty, I’ll go as soon as I’m done with the lemons here.”
“Now!” she yells out, and I jump, sending the perfect slices of lemon to the floor period. What the hell has gotten into her?
“Jesus Christ, woman! Since when are you so passionate about fucking mint?”
“Language, Matty!” She swats me with the towel. “Since it’s a special mint and I need it for my cocktails.”
“Ah, of course.” I roll my eyes. Mom and her cocktails. That’s actually the only thing she won’t let me change when I take over. The special, magic cocktails must stay. But seeing as I had the best sex of my life after drinking the Eros Spell that night, I might be partial to them too now.
“Fine.” I set the lemons I was cutting aside. “I’m going now.”
Mom smiles, but it’s not exactly her normal smile.
It’s very creepy, actually. “Be a good boy when you meet my friend. She’s special.”
“Okaaay,” I draw out and hightail it out of there before she comes up with any more errands for me.
“Oh my gosh, Matty baby!” I hear Lindsey’s squeaky, all-too-excited voice beam behind my back when I’m no more than five steps away from the bar and fight the urge to cringe then run away screaming. She was probably about to come inside right before I left.
And we are not open yet.
Great, it seems the whole town already knows I’m back. How the fuck does that girl still not understand we are not going to sleep together again let alone have a freaking relationship.
“Hey,” I answer back without an ounce of enthusiasm. I’m not usually an asshole kind of a guy. I’m fun and easy but some chicks just don’t get the memo.
Zoe got it. She got too fuckin good, I grumble to myself because I would not say no to another night—or two… fine, ten—with her.
“Oh, I’m so happy you are finally back.” She beams at me. “I reallyyy missed you.” She bats her eyes at me as her fingers trail over her overly exposed breasts and I fight the urge to throw up.
I’m really fighting that shit right now because even though I like easy fun, I don’t enjoy overly eager participants. Or more like desperate hindering on the edge of bat shit crazy.
What the hell was I thinking when I slept with her last year?
Yeah, it was that long ago, and she still hasn’t gotten the memo…
I exhale, rubbing my eyes with my fingers because there is no nice way I can go about this – I tried that already. Let’s try rude and see if that works. “Look, Linsey, you and I”—I point between us—“are not going to happen. Ever. Okay? So, please drop it.”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes and I want to feel bad but then her nostrils flare, she fists her hands and stomps her foot. Yep. Stomps. Her. Fucking. Foot. “Never!” she yells loud enough for the whole Love Street to hear. “We are meant to be, Matty baby!”
“Never,” I deadpan and turn around, heading over to the address mom gave me without giving the “Stomping Larry” a second glance.
I swear this happens way more often than it should. I’m always so honest and straight up with them, yet still each one thinks she can be the one to take on a project called Matteo. Won’t happen, damn it, not to mention I’m way too young for that shit. I still have a lot of wild oats to sow and all that.
But despite Linsey putting a little damper in my day, I am still enjoying this little walk through my hometown. Loverly Cave is like nothing you’ll ever see anywhere else. It’s happiness and craziness bottled up into one and capped with a rainbow at the top with its cheery residents, colorful buildings, little out-there-named stores, and nature for days. I never thought my town was special until I left for college and discovered how rude the outside world is.
It takes me twice as long to get to Mom’s friend’s house because everyone stops me on my way, saying hello, shaking hands and telling me how excited they are for me to be home.
Like I said, LC is one of a kind.
Eventually, I reach the destination for this special mint, and it happens to be one of the old cottages up on the beach that the Levine sisters bought when they moved here in the spring.
I only met them briefly when they came to the bar, but I’ve known their boyfriends who are now their fiancés/husbands my whole life and those men are the-fucking-best! Alec and Jacob were my role models growing up and Luke always seemed very cool, but he left town when I was still a kid, so I don’t know him that well. But it’s clear they all remodeled these antiques and turned rotten, paint-peeling shoe boxes into chic, beach retreats.
The cottage I’m headed to is the bright pink one and right in front of it is a huge firepit I imagine they all use daily since the logs seem to be still hot from the night before. I should ask if I could join them one of these days. Sure, I’d be third—or seven—wheeling but whatever, I could use some friends since all of mine are back in college.
I climb up the few steps to the front door and gently knock. It’s still pretty early and I don’t want to wake anybody up. I turn around taking in the rest of the surroundings but curiously enough there is not one mint stem growing around here. There is not even a stray planter in sight.
Weird.
Maybe she grows them inside the house?
Oh hell, I don’t even know who I’m meeting here. Mom never gave me the name. I don’t think it’s Joy Levine who owns this place since she lives up in the woods with Jacob, plus from what I know about her she does not seem like a green thumb at all.
She’s more likely the one to pluck it all out.
A few moments pass and I knock again, this time a little louder because no one is answering the door and I have a feeling mom might make mint out of me if I don’t deliver this one. She was that eager to have it.
I blow out a tired breath, turn around and just start rubbing the exhaustion from my face with my hands when the door behind me squeaks and I quickly turn around. “Hey, thank God you answered.” My eyes are still a little blurry from all that rubbing. “My mom, Willa from LPs, which I’m sure you know, ignore me. Anyway, she asked to pick up some min—” The rest of the words die on my tongue because finally I see clearly who is standing before me, gaping at me with those big, magnetic, brown eyes, the softest blonde hair, in a messy bun atop her head and her mouth propped open in what I think is a silent “what the fuck”—because that is what I am mentally mouthing to myself.
Zoe.
My Zoe.
My beastie.
At least I think that’s who I’m seeing right now because a second later my eyes are registering what I am really seeing in front of me, and every ounce of breath is knocked out of my chest. Literally. I have nothing to breathe with, staggering backward in my steps until I feel the porch banister behind me, and I grab onto it with my dear life before my knees give out.
“Matteo?” a very pregnant Zoe whispers. YES! Pregnant! “Are you all right?”
Am I all right? Am I fucking all right??
I’m peachy! Just about to become a dad. But all is well here.
Wait, take a deep breath in, Matteo, you cannot scare a pregnant woman with your internal shrieks. Especially one who is most likely carrying your child.
My face pales further from the realization. I can literally feel the blood from it vanishing as I’m hyperventilating.
“Jesus Christ, Matteo,” Zoe yelps and rushes to me.
“H-how? W-we used p-protection, d-didn’t we?” I’m stuttering, my voice shaky and I feel that full-blown panic attack about to take over me.
That is until her skin touches mine. Just one little touch of her fingers on my arm and my eyes snap up to hers, locking in on them and just like that I am able to draw a deep, full breath in, steading my erratic breathing as my heart rate slowly slows down that instant.
That. That is what she does to me. No fucking wonder my sperm found a way around the fucking condom all those months ago.
And why doesn't it sound half as bad?
“I’m going to be a dad?”