I wake in the night to soft kisses on my shoulder, Matteo's hands curling around my waist, pulling me closer to his body, which is bare. I tilt my head towards him, blinking in the darkness.
"You looked so pretty tonight," he whispers as his hand grazes my breast. His warm fingers find their way beneath my nightgown and he cups my breast. My eyes are swollen from crying, but he can't see that. When he palms my breast, my body reacts, unable to help arousing to his attention. I still crave it as much as I always have. He devotes his time to making love to every inch of me, perhaps apologetically, but what would usually have me writhing against him in desperation does nothing to me now.
My brain won't allow it. The hours I spent in tears will not allow it.
Matteo begins to notice, after a while. He's always so in tune with my movements, with my body. "Emma, baby."
I hear the concern in his voice, even a hint of fear. I press my face to his shoulder, closing my eyes to try and get into the moment. I try so hard. He clasps my body and pushes into me deeper, harder, breathing with difficulty, holding off himself.
The choice I make to fake an orgasm is fleeting, but before I can rethink it, it's too late to turn back. I force my breathing to quicken, digging my hands into his back to feign building tension.
"I'm close," I whisper, closing my eyes, feeling tears escaping down the sides of my cheeks into my hair. "I'm so close."
"Do it, Em. Come for me."
Never once have I faked an orgasm with Matteo. I had experience with it when I was with Danny, who failed to bring me pleasure on a regular basis, but with Matteo, there's never been the need. So, when I finally do it, encouraging him to let go too, I feel sick.
Physically sick.
His hands remain gently on my face for a while, completely still and I fear he's going to say something. I pray I did it well enough. I hear him release a breath and he kisses my hair.
"I love you, Emma."
I nod, although he can't tell in the darkness. "I love you, too."
***
I'm dropping toys into the play pen when I feel my husband's looming presence behind me. "Why did you fake an orgasm last night?"
I straighten at the words, feeling my heart fall to the floor beside my feet. I won't turn around. "What are you talking about?"
"I've been with you long enough and slept with you long enough to know when you're into it."
"Matteo..."
"Don't lie to me, Em. Please."
I can't breathe.
"I... I don't know why I couldn't."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know."
"Was it me?"
"No. It was me," I whisper, finally turning. I'm sure I'm bright red. Maybe I've ghostly white. I don't even know anymore. "I've just had a lot on my mind."
"Well, tell me about it."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "It's nothing, really."
"I'd like to hear it."
I look at him disbelievingly. "Do you? Really?"
His phone rings in that moment and I know, without a doubt, he's going to answer it. He pulls it out and looks at the screen, pressing his lips together. "I'm sorry..."
"You're late," I finish for him, having heard the excuse plenty. I close my eyes, smiling knowingly. "Alright, go."
He looks like he's about to fight me on it, but my phone also sounds, two different worlds pulling us in opposite directions. By the time I've reached for my phone, he's near the door, answering his. And I hate us both.
Seeing Danny's name on my screen, I let the call go to voicemail, simply staring at his name. Once I would have been grateful to have someone to talk about all of this too. He'd probably be there for me. There's a ping in the voicemail box, and I listen to it.
Emma, it's me. Danny, I mean. I'm in town for the next week. I spoke to your mother... she told me to reach out since she's too stubborn to. I'm pretty surprised to hear the news about your wedding. I had no idea what had happened but I know you're in a low spot at the moment. Anyways, you know I care about you and I'm here if you need me. I'd love to meet up somewhere, meet Charles if I could. I promise I'll behave.
I set the phone onto the counter, hating where my mind is taking me.
***
"Yes, that's three!" I exclaim, holding the book up so Charles can see the pictures. We're in his bed, snug under the covers. There's a goat eating apples on the page. I point to all the red fruits, grinning. "Three apples."
He's watching intently as I turn the pages. He loves reading.
He loves reading and I love him.
It took three months to fall in love with this little boy. That's all it took. He still has dreams, nightmares. He still wakes up from them, but it's digressed to maybe once every three weeks. He sleeps through the night now mostly, and eats when he should. He's more defiant with Matteo than me and it's because he knows me better.
I experience a warm feeling as Charles curves into my body, resting his head against my breast tiredly.
"You sleepy?" I murmur, happily, setting down the book. He clasps my shirt, holding it tightly in his fingers. He smells of baby soap. It's such a distinct smell and I've become so accustomed to it. It's in these moments with him that I'm not crying or thinking of Matteo in bed with another woman.
So, naturally, I'm always here.
***
"Thank you for taking him, V," I say, handing Charles over to my sister, who grins taking him.
"Hello, young man! How are you?"
He's stares at her warily, but he comes around easy. I grab my purse, reaching for my keys. "I shouldn't be long. Matteo left some sheet music here, so I'm going to drop them off at the rehearsal hall and then I'll stop for the chair and I'll be back."
"Get a doughnut. Take your time."
"A doughnut?"
Veronica chuckles, nodding, bouncing Charles on her hip. "Uh, yeah. You could gain some pounds. You're skin and bones."
I roll my eyes and look down at my dress. "But I look nice, right?"
She smirks. "Expecting something when you get to rehearsal?"
"No, it's just Matteo rarely sees me in anything nice now. We've been... having a hard time communicating. I'd like to look okay."
"You look better than okay," she presses, smiling. I nod, turning for the door.
***
I'm closing Matteo's leather portfolio I got him last Christmas, approaching his office when the sheets of music slip from my clumsy fingers, scattering all over the floor. I close my eyes, groaning as I bend down to pick them up.
Shit, were these in order? I stand up and tuck the portfolio under my arm, fixing my hair pointlessly as I push open the door to the rehearsal hall.
I freeze in the doorway, like a statue.
The empty hall in front of me has only two occupants. A blonde tech, pressed up against my husband, her hands on his face. He's clutching her wrists, eyes slanted deeply as he speaks low to her. Her back is to me.
Sensing someone in the doorway, Matteo looks up and finds me in the doorway.
His eyes widen in horror, my name leaving his lips like a gut punch. "Emma."
My chest is heaving. I'm gasping, unable to look away. When he tears himself away from her, pulling her hands down and turns for me, my legs leap into motion.
All I can think is getting the fuck out of here, away from him.
I take off in a sprint, hearing his shoes behind me.
"Emma... Emma, wait! I swear that wasn't what it looked like!"
I can't breathe. Oh, I'm going to pass out. I push open the studio door, walking into the street. I feel his hand on my arm, pulling me to a stop.
"Let me go," I snarl.
"Emma, listen to me. Nothing is going on with her. Nothing!"
I look anywhere but at him. "Yeah, it sure fucking looked like nothing!"
"Emma."
I pull my arm from his hand. "Just leave me the hell alone!"
He captures me again, shaking my arms to hold my attention. "Please, baby, Emma. I promise you. Look, she did come on to me. I fucking turned her down!"
"LET ME GO!" I screech, turning finally to look at him with wide, resilient eyes. He pales, releasing me quickly as onlookers watch intensely.
He shakes his head, panicked as I spin, still clutching his portfolio.
***
I didn't bother to pick up the chair. I didn't even think to grocery shop. No, I walked for over an hour in a daze before I stumbled into a bar and drank. I drank the entire day away. My phone went off repeatedly and I couldn't move.
I didn't want to move.
And now, it's late. Oh, it's so late and Veronica is probably going to kill me but I'll take it. I clumsily unlock the door, finding that the lights are still on. I shut the door, locking it with an exhale, pressing my flushed face to the cold surface and then I turn, bracing myself for her wrath.
Matteo is the one standing in the hallway. He's wearing jeans and a black tee. He looks perfect as he always does. Lucky Matteo. He always lives the best of both worlds. He gets it all.
His steady gaze falters when he notices me tilting. "Have you been drinking?"
"Mhm," I hum. "I figured my promise was void now. You know, since you don't seem to uphold to the ones you make either?" I walk in, reaching into my bag. I set his portfolio onto the countertop, chuckling at my stupidity.
"Charles was asking for you," he says, tone clipped.
"Is he asleep?"
"Yes."
I drop my bag onto a chair and head into the living room.
"Emma."
I turn, holding up my hand. "I don't want to talk to you."
He gapes in shock, holding up his hands in defense. "I've broken no vow. No promise."
"Forsake all others? Honor me? Protect me? Cherish me? Where the hell have you been these past three months, Matteo? Huh?"
"I know I've made mistakes here but I have been faithful to you always. I would never, ever cheat on you."
"No, sure, you just flirt with your assistants. No harm in that. How many late nights have you spent in her arms like you were today?"
"Emma, I was not flirting! She wanted something and I told her I wasn't going to give it to her!"
"Oh, just say it! Sex! She wanted sex!"
"She wants me to leave you!"
I blink, staring at him in awe. "And you still let her get that close? You still let her touch you?"
"I didn't know what to do! She grabbed me and you fucking walked in! I don't know why it happened like this! I don't!" He bounds over to me, reaching for my hands. I grimace when he kisses them sweetly, desperately. "I would never be able to cheat on you. Or leave you. I wouldn't ruin this."
I stare at him and everything begins to present itself. I'm ready to yell. "You already have, Matteo."
His eyes, the most expressive part of his gorgeous face, squint as he comprehends what I just said. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I said."
"Emma—"
"You're so selfish. God, you're so selfish! I gave up everything for you! I always have! My mother won't even speak to me after the fight I had with her about you and you don't even know about it!"
He places his hands on his head, blinking back shock. "Emma."
"You promised to love me. You promised so much and gave up so fucking easily. You put your work before me, before Charles! Your own family! You barely know him! You haven't sat down with us for a meal in two goddamn weeks! When you come near him, he still backs away!"
He is gasping. "I have tried..."
"That's bullshit! We're a burden to you!" I'm choking on my sobs. "I'm a burden to you. I always thought that you'd be different than other men. There used to be a time when you could see no one but me!"
"That is still true!"
I laugh, angrily. "No, it's not. You don't smile at me anymore like you did to that girl the night of your show. I wanted to hit you then. Like I want to hit you now!"
"Then do it!" he shouts, holding out his arms. "Hit me then. But then let me talk!"
I stare at him, unable to raise my hand, no matter how much I want to hurt him like he's hurt me. He runs a hand through his hair.
"I know I've been distant, as of late. I know I should be around more but so much has been going on at work. I mean, Doug has been pressuring me about October. Scheduling the tour has been crazy—"
"Shut up."
He blinks. "What?"
"You know nothing about crazy. I honestly can't even listen to you say it. Crazy is every single night waking up to a screaming child. Crazy is not leaving this house for days, not having adult interaction for days. I barely have time to take a shower, let alone eat. I've lost fifteen pounds and can't seem to gain it back. Crazy is watching you live your life, free as a bird, while I'm sitting here waiting for you to throw me a damn scrap! That is crazy!" I shake my head. "God, do you know what I'd do to have your definition of crazy?"
He remains silent, staring at me cautiously. I close my eyes, feeling my walls crumbling. I'm crying so bad I can barely remain upright. "I'm doing this all on my own. You've given up on this, on us."
"I'm not giving up," he says, breathlessly. "I... I just sometimes feel so trapped—"
I literally can't stand him in that moment. As soon as those words come from his mouth, I go thermonuclear.
"If you feel so fucking trapped, then get the hell OUT! I love that child in that bedroom! I know you're incapable of letting him in, but I'm not going to do this anymore! I'm so fucking done!"
He's choking on his words. "E-Emma..."
I hold up my hand, shaking my head. "I've been silent. I've listened to your excuses for long enough. You're going to hear this." He's like stone by the hallway. I shake my head once more as my lip trembles. "I used to think I couldn't do this without you but you know what? I fucking can. I will be a wonder parent to that boy because he damn well deserves it! I've been trying so hard to make this home better than foster care and I'm only realizing now that you're the one keeping me from achieving that."
His eyes are wide with tears, real ones, shamed ones. I know my words hurt but I won't hold them back any longer. I turn, walking into the bedroom. I slam it closed behind me.
***
I exit the bathroom hours later, stopping when I find Matteo sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, his head down towards the ground. I pull my wet hair onto one shoulder and brace myself, walking to get into the other side of the bed.
He grasps my hand as I'm passing, breathing my name painfully. "Emma."
I stare at him in the moonlit room. The effects of the alcohol have worn off. "I'm tired, Matteo."
He looks up at me and I can tell he's in shock. He's been crying and that kills me. I look away to hide how much. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
My heart is weak. It always has been when it comes to him, but right now, I don't have it in me to forgive him. I pull away from him, walking to the other side of the bed. "Goodnight, Matteo."
"Emma, please."
Don't cry. Don't cry anymore.
"I said goodnight. You can either get in bed or you can sleep in the guest room. It's up to you," I say coldly. I close my eyes, feeling the pain of our silence as he leaves the room.
I let my sobs erupt from my chest when he's gone.