Page 34 of Various Intentions
“Thanks. I shouldn’t be too late.”
“Take your time. It sounds like you two haven’t been able to talk for a while,” Vincent said. “It’ll be good to catch up.”
Matteo’s eyes shone as he nodded to Vincent. “Thank you.” He turned to leave the room, then hesitated. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you.”
I shrugged. “Got any other children you need to tell us about? Or ex-wives or murderous in-laws?”
Matteo licked his lips, absorbing my question and perhaps realizing it was a fair one, under the circumstances. “Zarah’s mother died when she was in her late teens.”
“I’m sorry, Matteo. You could have mentioned her.”
“I know.”
* * * *
As I lay beside Vincent, trying to get to sleep, I listened to the silence of the house and Vincent’s deep breathing, waiting for sounds of the front door opening upon Matteo’s return. It was almost midnight. They’d gone for coffee at six o’clock.
Before he’d gone to sleep, Vincent had suggested they’d probably got talking and lost track of time. When you hadn’t seen your child for years, I supposed there would be a fair bit to catch up on.
Still, an uneasy feeling had settled in my gut, which could have been residual tension from everything that had happened over the past two days. I wondered if parents of teenagers felt this way when their kids were out late, and I realized how responsible Taylor was in this regard. We always knew where he was and when he’d be home, and he’d update us by text or phone call if there was any change to his plans. But Matteo was a grown man who made sensible decisions, so I wasn’t worried about his safety—only that the sense of discombobulation I’d experienced upon finding out that Matteo had kept Zarah a secret from us made me less sure of how things stood. It was as if I’d discovered a crack in my favorite pot and wondered if it could still be relied upon.
It was unsettling, to say the least. Those initial feelings of betrayal had subsided because his reasoning made a lot of sense, especially when I considered how sensitive and emotional Matteo could be under his stoic surface. But I still felt the instability of finding out everything was not as it had seemed. I hoped that once Matteo, Vincent and I spoke more about Zarah and what her appearance in Matteo’s life meant to our relationship, those feelings would go away.
I must have drifted off. When I woke in the darkness to the gentle sounds of Vincent’s breathing and no third body in the bed with me, I looked at the clock. It was one-thirty.
I wondered if Matteo had come home but not come to bed. I slipped out from beside Vincent and grabbed the long sweater I used as a robe, wrapping it around myself and pulling on a pair of wool socks against the cold floors.
There was a light on in the living room, but it wasn’t Matteo. Rather, it was Taylor, playing a video game.
“He’s home, Nic. Don’t worry,” Taylor said with a wry smile.
I snorted a half-hearted laugh. “I’m not worried.”
“Yeah, okay. He just came in. Try the bathroom.”
“Oh.” I yawned, relief flooding me. “Good idea.”
I returned to the hall and sure enough, saw light escaping from behind the cracked-open door. I knocked as I registered the sound of running water.
“Hey, you’re back,” I said.
“Yeah,” Matteo answered. “Sorry I’m so late.”
“It’s okay,” I said, nudging the door open enough that I could see him.
He didn’t look up from where he was washing his hands at the sink, staring at the water with his brows furrowed.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, looking at the pink water going down the drain. “Tell me you didn’t punch Zarah,” I said, humor my only recourse in the situation. A chill went down my spine as Matteo regarded me skeptically.
“Of course I didn’t punch Zarah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I fell. On the pavement. There’s fucking ice everywhere.”
I blinked, because Matteo didn’t swear often. But what he had said about the ice was true.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“That ship has sailed, Matteo. I do worry about you.”
