Exposed

Chapter Nine

"We're learning from our mistakes."

"I hope so. Because honestly, if it doesn't work out this time, I think it would hurt ten times worse than before."

"It's going to work," I say, because I have to.

I know she's right. It would kill me to see him leave again. He's told me multiple times now that he won't go but I can't help but feel frightened by the obstacles that always show up at our door. I look back towards the bedroom where my mother has disappeared, hoping at least one of those obstacles is being cleared up.

***

My parents embrace Veronica in front of the terminal at JFK. The ride here was awkward, to be sure, but at least there was no screaming. Matteo came, to my surprise, although I could tell he was still recovering from his talk with my mother. A talk I still know nothing about.

"We'll see you for Em's birthday, right?" Mom asks my sister, tearing up as usual. Veronica nods, rolling her eyes at my mother's effortless ability to get overwhelmed. As dad moves to hug her, my mother moves to me, extending her arms. I walk into them, knowing that even though I'm peeved at her for yesterday, I can't deny that she loves me.

"I'll see you in March," she murmurs, kissing my cheek.

"Okay."

She lets me go, setting sights on Matteo. She doesn't hug him, but she smiles, glancing between us. "I'd very much like you to come for Emma's birthday in March. Every year, we rent a cabin in northern Georgia for a few days."

"I'd love that," he replies. After my father kisses my temple, he reaches out for Matteo's hand. As soon as my mom is out of ear shot, he shakes it with eagerness.

"Well Matteo, you took everything Harriet threw at 'ya and that makes you pretty impressive in my eyes."

"Thank you, sir."

"Jesse." My dad looks between us. "Take care of my girl."

"I will."

I deflate into Matteo with relief when they finally turn for the gate, searching their jackets for their boarding passes. Veronica chuckles, looking at us.

"Matteo, it looks like you may have gotten that seal of approval, just when we least expected it."

He smirks. "Although your mother was pretty stern in our, um, chat."

They turn back before going through, waving toward us. We all wave back as I ask, "What did she say?"

"That your father will come and find me if I hurt you again. That I better stay away from the bottle..."

"Oh dear God," I groan, closing my eyes as Veronica cackles in shock.

"But other than that, she seemed to accept that we are doing this."

"Finally," I add, glancing at Veronica.

"Now, you guys only need to hope Danny stays away," Veronica says, bluntly, turning for the exit.

***

I deposit myself onto my bed, groaning at the sore nerve that shoots through my back at the fall. "Oh, this is the worst part about Christmas... putting away the decorations."

Matteo chuckles as I fan my shirt against my body. "Maybe that means you go overboard a little bit."

Gaping, I find my best appalled face. "I do not!"

He laughs, removing his shirt. "You do, Em."

I sit up enough to lean on my elbows. "I like Christmas, sue me!"

I throw the pillow behind me at him. He catches it mid-air and stalks toward me, his smile growing. He throws it across the room as he climbs onto the bed, moving over me. My eyes are unable to leave his face, his new carefree smile. He's in good spirits. Even with everything that's been thrown at us the past couple of days, he hasn't let it get to him.

"I'm sweaty," I warn as he begins to pull my shirt up over my stomach.

"So am I."

He drags the fabric from my flushed skin, proving he doesn't care in the slightest.

***

"What's this?" Matteo asks, walking into the apartment. He's removing his coat and scarf, looking at the mess I have in the living room. Mess of furniture. I point over to the boxes and cases that are stacked in the living room. His things have arrived from London.

"Your household items are here," I announce excitedly while he approaches me, and bends down to kiss my lips chastely. He glances at the bed frame and dresser.

"These aren't mine."

"Oh, I know. They were in one of the guest rooms."

"I don't understand," he says and I smile, rubbing his back comfortingly.

"Well, you need a space for your instruments."

He looks genuinely shocked, gaping unsurely. "Oh, I mean, I could have found spaces for them. You didn't have to do clear an entire room."

"Where would you do your work?"

"Well, around... I mean, in the living room?"

I turn, clutching onto the bottom of his button-down shirt, sensing his discomfort. He places his hand behind my head and his fingers run through my hair. "No, I want you to have a place where you can work. I know that's important. I want this to be our apartment."

He smiles warmly. "Well, you didn't have to do the hard labor. I could have handled it."

"Well, it's my last day off before going back to work and I was bored. Anyways, I got excited when your stuff came here. I mean, I've never lived with anyone before."

He chuckles. "Yeah. It's going to be interesting."

"You could sound a little more optimistic about it."

"I'm very optimistic... I've never felt happier in my life."

His confession touches somewhere deep, tugging at the part of me that still remembers the night he told me of his parents, of the fire that killed them. I remember the time where he told me he didn't deserve to feel love, and that makes this particular moment so much more special.