Page 36 of For Pleasure Or Worse

"Don't!" Natalia and I cried in unison.

My mother crowded me again, invading the little bubble between Tally and me while my father paced in the background asking questions I couldn't hear anymore. I closed my eyes and winced away from the noise.

"Anna, I say this with all the respect in the world—I need you to back the hell up.” Tally's stern, commanding tone slowed me down on impact. One of my eyes peeled open to see my mom taking reluctant steps backward, leaving me alone with my fiancée. Her hands trailed up my legs, my sides and arms, and settled at my collarbone. One palm resting over my heart as it returned to a more stable beat. "Hey. Are you here with me?"

"I'm here," I assured her. "I'm sorry."

Tally shook her head. "Don't apologize to me. I'm sorry I didn't see it happening sooner. You said the safe word."

I was so grateful for her, maybe more so at that moment than ever, knowing that my mother's approval meant so much to herand she was still willing to raise her voice and stand up for me when I needed it. The room around me edged back into focus again and I stood from the chair, pulling her into my chest. "I love you.”

My parents crept toward me again, treading carefully this time.

"Are you okay, Mateo?" Mom asked. “You scared us.”

"Near death is what it takes for you to talk to me again?" I joked, tugging her into my other side. “I'm okay, just don’t ask me to invite the mailman to my wedding. You've been warned.”

She sighed away an argument.

My dad stood with his hands on his hips. "Does that happen a lot?"

"Never," I said. "Must have been a freak thing.” That was the easy answer. The one I would give rather than field questions I didn't have an explanation to, because ithadhappened to me before—in smaller, less catastrophic ways. If I worked myself up about existential things late at night, or if I thought too hard about some of the shit that went down in Delta. Sometimes panic crept in and made it hard to breathe, but I’d learned to bring myself back to a neutral state without any help. This time was different; it was like those smaller moments on steroids.

Natalia rubbed my back, her fingertips trailing up and down my spine and bringing me all the way to the ground, steadying me.

“What was that about coconuts?” Mom’s eyebrows pinched together.

A small chuckle burst out of me and I was about to make a ridiculous excuse, but my nose twitched first, catching a whiff of something charred. They all noticed the same thing I did simultaneously. The room was hazy, and the stove was crackling ferociously as we all turned and took in the very burnt, rock-solid meatballs in the frying pan alongside a full pot ofovercooked pasta. Things had an affinity to being burnt to a crisp in this house.

We ordered takeout, and ate in silence.

chapter twelve

Natalia

There wasno use talking to Mateo about the panic attack. After the smoke had cleared he moved on from it like it had never even happened. He wrote it off as a mix of dehydration and pent-up frustration with his parents, years in the making. I knew what had conspired in the kitchen was something totally different.

That’s why my instinct to protect him made me lash out. I wasn’t proud of shouting at his mom, but Mateo was my person, and something was hurting him, and I wanted it to stop. It was a normal psychological reaction. I wouldn’t have cared if it was Jesus Christ himself, all I wanted to do was cover him with a shield and keep everyone else out.

Unfortunately, the entire ordeal had made things in the house more awkward. Yes, Anna was back to speaking to Mateo, more so out of fear for her son’s health than anything, but I’d begun sensing a bit of jealousy as well after she was pushed aside. Though technically that meant the task I had set out to do had been done. Just in a more traumatic, round the block, burnt meatball way than originally intended.

Still, it was like walking on eggshells between everyone. I thought wedding planning would be a fun way to bond withMateo’s mom, but after the disagreement over invitations I didn’t even want to bring up the details anymore. She didn’t seem too interested in it anyway, which was especially confusing after using that as a reason to visit in the first place.

There was no time to agonize over that though; I had my own family to deal with. Isabella had texted me a place and time to meet her for coffee and considering the fate of my wedding party lay within a confined time, I really had no choice but to answer the call. I left my house pretending I was on my way to work at the bank and instead met Isabella inside a cozy modern roastery in Coconut Creek. The bright interior was designed in light wood and earth tones, and artwork decorated the walls with tasteful splashes of color. A few people sat working on laptops at the bar counter and sun drenched the front of the store through the big open windows.

Bella looked as beautiful as always with her short hair curled close to her ears, designer earrings, a matching tennis bracelet, and a few dainty chains layered around her neck. Gold. Always gold. She was wearing a light-pink blazer and a white turtleneck sweater. Meaning she was either done for the day, or on her way to make someone’s life an absolute living hell in the courtroom. She was infamous for bringing grown men withering to their knees in front of the judge.

I plopped down in the wooden seat across from her that was two inches lower than I expected it to be, and the chair whined gracelessly beneath me.

"Coffee?" Bella asked.

"I'm good. One of those chocolate eclairs might entice me though."

She pursed her lips, probably fighting back a comment about the calories. "I'll buy."

"Are you sucking up to me? Or is this an apology? You can say the words, you know. I'll help." I traced my mouth with my finger. "I'm—sorry."

Bella crossed her arms over her chest. "You know that a Russo doesn't apologize. We just move on. The eclair is the truce."

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