A Hunger for the Forbidden(25)

“Obsession, perhaps, was a better word. My father loved Lia’s mother, I’m sure of that. I’m not certain he loved mine. At least, not enough to stay away from other women. And my mother was—is, for that matter—very good at escaping unpleasant truths by way of drugs and alcohol.” His headache mocked him, a reminder that he’d used alcohol for the very same reason last night.

“Perhaps it was their marriages that weren’t normal. Perhaps—”

“Alessia, don’t. I think you saw last night that I’m not exactly a brilliant candidate for husband or father of the year.”

“So try to be. Don’t just tell me you can’t, Matteo, or that you don’t want to. Be better. That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to be stronger, to do the right thing.”

“Yes, because that’s what you do,” he said, his tone dry. “You make things better, because it makes you feel better, and as long as you feel good you assume all is right with your world. You trust your moral compass.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“I don’t trust mine. I want things I shouldn’t want. I have already taken what I didn’t have the right to take.”

“If you mean my virginity, I will throw this herbal tea in your face,” she said, pregnancy hormones coming to the rescue, bringing an intense surge of anger.

“I’m not so crass, but yes. Your body, you, you aren’t for me.”

“For Alessandro? That’s who I was for?”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“The hell it’s not, Matteo!” she shouted, not caring if she hurt his head. Him and his head could go to hell. “You’re just like him. You think I can’t make my own decisions? That I don’t know my own mind? My body belongs to me, not to you, not to my father, not to Alessandro. I didn’t give myself to you, I took you. I made you tremble beneath my hands, and I could do it again. Don’t treat me like some fragile thing. Don’t treat me like you have to protect me from myself.”

He stayed calm, maddeningly so, his focus on his cup of coffee. “It’s not you I’m protecting you from.”

“It’s you?”

A smile, void of humor, curved his lips. “I don’t trust me, Alessia, why should you?”

“Well, let me put you at ease, Matteo. I don’t trust anyone. Just because I jumped into bed with you doesn’t mean you’re the exception. I just think you’re hot.” She was minimizing it. Minimizing what she felt. And she hated that. But she was powerless to do anything to stop the words from coming out. She wanted to protect herself, to push him back from her vulnerable places. To keep him from hurting her.

Because the loss of Matteo in her fantasies … it was almost too much to bear. As he became her reality, she was losing her escape, and she was angry at him for taking it. For not being the ideal she had made him out to be.

“I’m flattered,” he said, taking another drink of his coffee.

“How do you see this marriage going, then?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Assume it’s too late. Where do we go from here?”

He leaned forward, his dark eyes shuttered. “When exactly are you due?”

“November 22. It was easy for them to figure out since I knew the exact date I conceived.”

“I will make sure you get the best care, whatever you need. And we’ll make a room for the baby.”

“Well, all things considered, I suppose our child should have a room in his own house.”

“I’m trying,” he bit out. “I’m not made for this. I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Well, I do. I know exactly how much work babies are. I know exactly what it’s like to raise children. I was thirteen when my mother died. Thirteen when my baby sister and the rest of my siblings became my responsibility. Babies are hard work. But you love them, so much. And at the same time, they take everything from you. I know that, I know it so well. And I’m terrified,” she said, the last word breaking. It was a horrible confession, but it was true.

She’d essentially raised four children, one of them from infancy, and as much as she adored them, with every piece of herself, she also knew the cost of it. Knew just how much you poured into children. How much you gave, how much they took.

And she was doing it again. Without ever finding a place for herself in the world. Without having the fantasies she’d craved. True love. A man who would take care of her.