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God, he knows me so well.My head fell into my hands. “Because I did fail you. I swore I never would and now I can’t stand myself.”
“You didn’t fail me Luca, or my father. You were being a supportive husband to a wife who got a shitty deal but nonetheless has been better to you than you ever could have hoped for. A woman who saved Arianna’s life. If you’d refused to take her to the funeral I would have ordered you to go. She deserved that and you know it.”
I did, but it didn’t take away the pain or guilt. My head flopped back against the door with a thud. “I wasn’t here for you when you needed me the most.”
“And what do you think you would have done? You were back within eight hours of his death. You think I can’t handle shit while you are gone you arrogant bastard? When I called you I didn’t need your help for work. I needed my best friend for support. But you showed up all covered in shame and guilt, set in self-destruct mode that all I’ve done is worry about you!”
Matteo’s words made me want to vomit on the beautiful rug next to the blood I’d stained it with a moment ago. I looked up at him not knowing how to respond. I felt broken, hollow. Numb.
Matteo looked me straight in the eye and continued. “And now that we can’t find Petrov you are so wrapped up with anger that instead of you being here for me, I’m the one kicking your ass to set you straight. No one can find him. Not you. Not me. And neither of the Irish or MC. You think you are the only one pissed that he hasn’t gotten his due? I know what he meant to you but he was my father. The difference is I’m not stupid enough to let it obliterate my control or my marriage.”
“What do you know about that?”
“That you are treating Becka like shit. Taking all your frustrations out on her and it’s destroying her.”
“How do you know that?”
“Arianna tells me everything. Why are you trying to fuck things up?”
I sat quiet, my arms limp in my lap as I stared at the ceiling. Matteo sat down beside me, bending his knees to rest his arms on them, huffing with exasperation.
“I love her,” I finally croaked. “And it scares me. It makes me feel too much and then I think and do stupid shit that has me lashing out. She always forgives me when I mess up and I don’t understand how she is capable of it. I can’t even bring myself to tell her I love her.” I pushed out a heavy breath. “I know it’s terrible to take it out on her but I couldn’t help it. She was just such an easy target to put my pain on.”
“Damn. The fact she hasn’t killed you in your sleep yet is a miracle,” Matteo chuckled, shaking his head.
“No shit,” I deadpanned. Then closed my eyes remembering her face the last time I saw her. “I threatened to cheat on her when she didn’t want to have sex with me today.”
“Oh hell.”
“She slapped me.”
“Knowing her you’re lucky she didn’t drop-kick you in the balls. Because you definitely deserved it.”
“I know.” I swallowed hard knowing I deserved much more than that. I crushed her with something incredibly cruel. What if she starts to think I already have? The uncertainty spilling into her mind would probably be enough to drowned any woman. Not to mention plant mistrust and doubt that might never go away.
We sat in silence for a time. It was Matteo who broke first.
“My father’s funeral is tomorrow and I want you there more than any man I can think of. But you need to sort your shit out. Go home and grovel to Becka and pull yourself together.”
“I’m sorry man. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you the way you needed me. I totally deserved to get punched in the face.”
“Damn right you did.”
I chuckled. Then remembered the empty house. “Where are all the men?”
“ I ordered them all outside so they wouldn’t hear me kicking your ass.”
“Thanks.”
Matteo leaned his head back against the door. “I know that you have been going through a lot of changes, and you are struggling with them. Becka has had an impact on you that I know you weren’t prepared for. I was in love with Arianna before we got married. I knew what she meant to me and at least halfway knew what I was getting into. You are facing everything backwards.”
I didn’t respond. None of what he said implied a question and I agreed with every statement. My chest squeezed so tight I struggled to breathe.
I had changed, it was as plain as the ring on my finger.
“I’m going to ask you a question I’ve never asked you before.” I stiffened at Matteo’s tone, a rock forming in my gut. After twenty years what could he possibly ask me?
“What do you want, Luca?”
