I gasp when Carlos walks in.
“Dad, what the hell?”
Matteo grips my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s bad enough our first real date was talking with my shrink on how to deal with talking to him”—I point at Dad — “and now we have NDAs and sad stories and—”
“Him is your father,” Dad interrupts me.
Mom walks in. “I ordered room service. Let’s just do this, okay, Tris?” She kisses my cheek then steps around me and whispers, “Sorry about this, Matteo.” She kisses his cheek, too.
Glaring at Dad, I curl my legs up behind me, snuggle into Matteo’s side, and grab his arm, putting it around me, knowing Dad will glare at me, and he doesn’t disappoint.
Honestly, it makes me happy.
“I’m proud of you, Dad.”
He looks at me like I’m nuts. I mean, I am, but whatever …
“Excuse me?”
“A month ago, you wouldn’t have dared glare at me in fear I’d flip out or take a handful of pills.”
He tilts his head in confusion.
“I want you to remember that, okay, Dad? Mom? I’m doing the work and”—I pause — “I’m stronger, okay?”
“Of course.” Mom says.
But Dad chimes in, “Wasn’t a month ago that you—”
“Flipped out, broke down, and admitted some unhealthy things I’d been doing to deal with crap. Then confronted and forgave someone, admitted my wrongs, and here we are. I’m asking you to look at me like you never have before. Look at me and see what he does. Please, see that I am stronger than you think, okay?”
“Tris?”
“Carlos, get those papers out and do your best to explain. Because, if you aren’t thorough, this will feel a lot like that inquisition you Spaniards are famous for.”
An hour and minimal tears on Mom’s part, they know everything about Matteo’s family history, what he wants for his nieces, and his health issues. The only thing Carlos left out, and I will be sure to thank him for it later, is the whole magnificent cock portion of the story. But he did make sure to let them know about the experimental phase. I’m not sure why Matteo felt the need to let them know that it never went “all the way,” but he did. Not gonna lie; I am happy to know that Carlos didn’t get to “do it” with him or to him, or whatever and however that works. Leave it to me to let my little green monster rear its ugly head when it comes to Carlos.
The next part takes me by surprise. Matteo asks my parents to manage his estate with me. He explains he doesn’t want to wait until we are married, because he knows in his heart that we would do the right thing by his family.
To that, my father’s eyes get a bit misty, but it’s not because he’s honored.
“Do you think that, when you go, she’ll ever recover from a loss like that?”
Matteo’s response is he’s one hundred percent sure I would, because, “By the time that happens, she’ll make sure nothing stops her from entering heaven so that she and I can be together through eternity.”
Dad’s reply, “That’s a lot to put on a seventeen-year-old kid.”
“Not the woman you raised. Not the woman whose heart is as yours—Steel.” He doesn’t wait for Dad to reply. “And I have no qualms with waiting until she’s eighteen. I love her. Six months or sixty years will not change that.”
“See? I do have a problem with that. You could just let us now.”
“Tris,” Dad warns.
“I have a question,” Mom finally pipes in.
“Yes?”
“Have you ever considered trying to find your birth mother?”
“I see no reason.”
“It might answer some health questions. Or, at the very least, give you some peace.”
“Seeing a real doctor would help, too.”
I nod to Dad. “Gonna have to agree with you there.”
“Once everything is settled, I will agree to see a doctor in the States. If you can suggest one who can’t be bought, that would be great.”
“Why not come back now?” Mom asks. “I’m sure Carly can—”
“I’m going to ask that no one outside of this room is privy to my personal information.”
“Thus, the NDA,” I point out.
“Understood.” Dad finally sits back.
At Mom’s instance, we leave Dad, Matteo, and Carlos, and she and I head back to the suite. After Brisa swoons about Matteo, and My grumbles about him, Mom sends them to grab some things at the shops across the street from the hotel.
As soon as they leave, she stands and grabs my hand, dragging me into hers and Dad’s room.
“Remember your last concert when Dad ambushed me with leaving you after the show?” she asks as she pulls a week’s worth of clothes hanging in the closet for a three-day trip and drops them on the bed.
“Yeah,” I say and begin taking them off the hangers.
“Your dad and I are going to leave tonight with your brother and sister.”
“And …?”
“Ranger is staying with you, Momma Joe and Thomas are meeting you in Rome, and you’re in love and—”
She stops when I throw my arms around her, and she begins to cry.
She’s not alone. I cry, too.
“I love him, Mom. I do. And, I know it’s crazy, and I know it’s going to hurt like hell—”
She steps back and grabs my elbows, giving me a firm shake. “Falling in love is like giving another person a loaded gun, pointed right at your heart, and trusting them to not shoot you.”
“Morbid, but okay.”
I hear Dad clear his throat from behind me and turn.
Arms crossed, he’s leaning against the doorjamb. “Bekah, what are you doing?”
Uncharacteristically, Mom ignores him. “That was not morbid; it was the words your father said that made me see underneath all the tattoos, and muscles, and the F-boy who helped me see myself the way he saw me. I believe Matteo is that person for you. And I trust that, if you saw that, and if he made you see how amazing you truly are, then he has my blessing. Your dad will come around.”
“Um, I’m right here. Reformed F-boy—”
“Reformed, my ass,” Mom mumbles, and it makes me laugh. “I also know that, if anyone can make Matteo feel a lifetime of love in whatever amount of time he has, it is you. I just need you to promise me, Tris, promise me when you’re worried, you call, when you need help, you’ll ask, and when you decide to push him to do whatever he needs to do to stick around, you remember we’re here to help. Promise me that, and I will be your biggest cheerleader.”
And then, I cry.
Rome
Tris
Meet me at Trevi Fountain, mi corazón.
Yours,
Matteo
That’s the note he left in the suite that he booked for me at the Principal Hotel. A suite filled with flowers and a bottle of chilled sparkling grape juice.