“And doing that with you, it would make it feel like I was breaking that promise. Amirite?” Getting it out was a breath of fresh air. I hadn’t exactly explained in depth why I didn’t want to partake in public sex with him. I should have told him a long time ago and he hadn’t asked for a deep discussion about it. I supposed he’d gotten used to being dumped on the account of his sexual needs. “All the sex was me trying to fill a void, and I promised myself I’d take better care of myself. I think, in trying to keep that promise, I put up a wall between myself and the rest of the world.”
“I get it,” he said, and I knew he was thinking about the possibility of us working. “I’m glad I found the strength to be honest with you. I would have you as my friend any day over a bitter and hurt ex.”
Something passed between us. Closure. And love of the friendship variety.
“I haven’t been intimate with anyone since you,” I blurted. “You were special to me. Still are. I need you to know that.”
He actually blushed. “You are too, which is why I told you.” He pointed at me with his fork. “So be honest with him and tell him you’ve fallen in love with his magnificent dick.”
I laughed so loud, several heads turned in my direction. We finished our lunch and went our separate ways.
I don’t know why, but I scrolled through my contacts and hit my parent’s number. It had been three years since I’d last called them. The last time I’d attempted to establish a relationship, my mother had answered with a clipped:Unless you want to repent, we have nothing to talk about.
I supposed, even now, I hoped something had changed. But when I got the generic number not in service, I knew I was wasting my energy on things I couldn’t change. It still sung and I dragged my feet home, tears pricking at my eyes.
I’d come to a firm decision. It was appealing keeping my feelings to myself because I was too scared of losing him. I wanted to live in the illusion that he was mine. At the same time, I wanted him to know how special he was and that he was loved.
I was going to tell him how I felt. But not yet. I wanted a little more time with my brat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MATTEO
“Where have you been?” Wanita whispered harshly as I stepped up to the law secretary’s desk. “He’s not happy. You had us worried, young man.”
“I’m here now,” I said, knowing it wasn’t enough. “Besides, is he ever happy?”
“Good point.” She glared at me as she hit a button on the phone. “He’s here, I’m sending him in right now, Mr. Salvatore.”
I offered her a sheepish smile and walked into my lawyer’s office. He was at his big, polished desk looking over paperwork. I took a seat in the familiar leather chair and waited. The minutes ticked by the sound of shuffling paperwork doing little to break the silence. Finally, he set the papers in a manilla folder and hit a button on the phone.
“Can you do me a favor and notify the authorities that my ward is no longer a missing person?” He’d been speaking to Wanita, but he was looking at me, two black, cold orbs piercing my shell. I wondered how all the lawyers he’d gone up against felt on the end of those peepers. I was thankful to have him on my side.
“I’m sorry. I–”
“Please help me understand something, Mr. Fernandez. When I told you about things moving quickly when they got going, and to keep your phone nearby, what part was I unclear about?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he rolled right over me.
“And youliedto me about maintaining your job at the grill.” His words were smooth, as if he were discussing the weather, but his dark eyes blazed with rage. “You’re lucky your grandmother left me a sizable retainer. As I tell all of my clientswhen courting me, if they want an ass-kissing, yes-man that's more than happy to put up with their bullshit, hire someone else.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Salvatore, but the building I was living in was condemned and I got sick and was in the hospital for several days. I lost my duffle bag with all my stuff including my phone.” It seemed like such a long time ago that I’d gone through hell. With the help of my Pooh Bear, I’d overcome it all.
His brows sank and he leaned forward. “I had Wanita check into every hospital within thirty miles of the city.”
“I gave a fake name.”
One side of his lips stretched, and I wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed. He sighed softly and ran his palm across his slickened hair. “You’re healthy now?”
I nodded and tapped on the leather chair, “Claire de Lune” echoing through me. It was amazing what hope could do for the spirit. “I had strep and developed pneumonia, but I’m good now. Just a lingering cough that crops up every now and then.”
“Where are you staying?”
“With a friend. He’s been taking care of me.”
“I need this friend's contact information in case you decide to disappear again.” He clicked his expensive pen.
“Ah…”
