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I should have known Matteo would let me leave the house if it suited his needs.
Evidently, informing my parents of our pending nuptials qualified as important enough to venture off the estate. With two bodyguards anyway.
I'd wanted Matteo to stay home. Knowing my parents' hatred for him, it seemed like the most natural solution to delivering what they would never consider to be good news.
So when I knocked on the front door, it was the only sign that my parents might
get that something was off. Usually if they were expecting me, they'd leave me to let myself in. And I would.
I'd wanted to take off the engagement ring, give us some time to settle them into Matteo's unexpected presence before they were blindsided with the sight of the massive rock on my finger. Matteo had put his foot down, claiming that the woman who would soon be his wife wouldn't be hiding her engagement ring ever.
"Ivory, honey, what are you doing knocking—" My mother broke off, staring wide eyed at Matteo. "Mr. Bellandi."
"Matteo, please." He smiled, and I watched my mom melt in the face of it. When we'd been in high school, my mother had adored Matteo and loved the way he doted on me.
She'd been nearly as crushed as I was when he broke my heart. My father had always disliked him, as most fathers hate their daughters first real boyfriend, and the way things ended set the tone for every other relationship in the future. No one would ever be good enough for me in my father's eyes. Men only used and abused and hurt.
It was why I'd never bothered bringing anyone else home to my parents.
"Of course," my mother smiled. "Would you like to come in?"
"Please." There was no hesitation in his voice, only the slightest edge of victory. He knew as well as I did that, he'd be able to win mom over again. She was the easy one.
"Martim?" Mom hollered, stepping back to let us move into the small home they'd lived in all my life.
"What, woman?" Dad yelled back, and mom rolled her eyes at me.
"Ivory brought a friend!" We moved into the kitchen, following mom to where she was finishing up with dinner. "Can you test the pasta for me, sweetheart?"
I stepped away from Matteo, moving to the stove and scooping out a piece of spaghetti to taste. I felt mom's eyes on my finger nearly immediately and tried to ignore them. She reached over, snatching my hand in hers. "Ivory," she gasped. "You're getting married?" I nodded shyly, preparing for the tirade. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me and clung to me tightly. "Oh, my baby. I'm so happy for you!"
I gave Matteo wide eyes over her shoulder, wondering what the Hell kind of twilight zone I'd landed in. "You are?"
"Oh, sweetie, I know he hurt you. But no one else ever made you happy the way he did, and that's all I want for you. Besides, I'm ready for some grandbabies." She turned her excitement to Matteo. "You will give me grandbabies, right?"
He grinned happily. "As soon as I can manage it, Mrs. Torres."
I choked on my spit, hacking up my lungs like the lady I was. "We haven't talked about kids yet, mom."
"Well, that's all right. You have time before the wedding to work those things out." She waved us off and the other reality sat heavy on my chest.
"Actually, Mrs. Torres, we're getting married July 6th."
"But that's like a month away," she whispered, and my father chose that moment to step into the room. He narrowed his eyes on the ring on the hand my mom still clutched in hers, his face turning red.
"No offense, ma'am, but I've spent too much of my life without Ivory as my wife. I plan to remedy it as soon as possible."
"Like Hell you will," my father growled.
"Martim!" Mom hissed.
"You broke my daughter. I won’t let you do it again."
"With all respect, that's not your decision to make," Matteo said calmly, matter-of-factly. He knew as well as I did that my father's approval was not something he would have for years.
"Daddy," I whispered. "I'm not broken. I never was. Broken-hearted, yes, but I wasn't broken."
He hung his head. "I watched you. For years I watched you keep every man at a distance, because of how he hurt you."
