His lips quirk up as he reaches for some of the small sugar packets on the side. Curious about what he’s up to, I stay quietwhile he pours some into his cupped hand. Then, he reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth.
“What are you…” The question dies when he takes my finger into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. “Matteo,” I hiss when he pulls it back out and dip my finger in the sugar in his palm.
“I’m proving just how much I love sugar,” he replies with a wink.
When he sucks my sugar-coated finger back into his mouth, I can barely take it. I’m squirming in my seat. I’m so wet I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m leaving a wet patch beneath me.
The waitress appears to take our order. I ask for the blueberry pancakes and coffee, while Matteo goes for eggs, bacon, and hash browns. As she walks away, I notice his gaze following her. Not in a way that makes me jealous, but like he’s assessing whether she’s a threat.
Apparently, she passes inspection because he relaxes minutely, his attention returning to me. “So,” he begins.
But before he can continue, I blurt, “Tell me why you’re wearing that damn eyepatch.” My tone’s a lot harsher than intended.
He quirks his right eyebrow. “Excuse me?” His tone is as cold as his gaze is now. Gone is the playful man from only moments ago.
Refusing to back down, I shake my head. “I want… no. Fuck that. Ideserveto know.”
“And why’s that?” he asks, smirking.
But again, it’s not playful. This is a side to Matteo I haven’t seen since he ransacked my home in the middle of the night.
I take a deep breath and reach for his hand. “You say you love me,” I murmur. “And people in love usually want it to be requited—”
“Are you saying you can’t love me, Little Thief?” he challenges. “Because I’m pretty sure a part of you already does.”
“I can’t stop you from thinking that,” I volley, annoyed at the way he makes it sound like he knows me better than I know myself. “But I’m telling you that I can’t fall in love with you when you’re not being honest with me.”
“What am I lying about?”
I make a sound of annoyance. “Why are you wearing the fucking eyepatch?” I ask again, refusing to let him derail the conversation. Because I already know what he’ll say next. He’ll argue withholding information isn’t lying, and that’s a whole other discussion.
“Does it bother you that I am?” he asks, his tone even colder now. “Do you think I’m damaged? Or not good enough—”
“What?” I whisper, horrified. My mouth falls open and I drop his hand like it’s burning me. “Is that what you think of me, Matteo?”
To his credit, he does look like he regrets those words. Though, not enough to take them back. Instead, he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Answer the question, Raven.”
Mirroring him, I spit, “Why should I be the only one who has to give answers?” His one eye meets mine, gray on brown in a battle of wills.
After several long and awkward minutes that feel like hours, he lets out a sigh and lean closer. He reaches for my hands, but I stubbornly keep my arms crossed.
“I lost my left eye last year.” He says it so softly I almost miss it.
“What?” The word come out strangled.
I get up and walk to his side of the table. Matteo doesn’t flinch when I raise my hand and cup his left cheek. He just watches me with that steady, unnerving gaze—that single gray eye I’vealways found so captivating. The eye I never questioned was alone.
“I lost it in an explosion last year,” he continues, voice even. “I only wear the prosthetic when I have to.”
My brain scrambles to realign everything I thought I knew. Every conversation, every touch, every kiss—all of them happening without me noticing. Wait, didn’t Piper mention an explosion last year? And I’m pretty sure I read something about it online.
And… oh my fucking God. All those times I noticed his eye being slightly off. But I just chalked it up to lighting and, well, maybe a lazy eye. For once, I haven’t missed the truth because of my mental pins. I just… I never even gave it that much thought.
But… all this time, all these nights together, and I never saw. “I…” Trailing off, I swallow. “I never knew,” I murmur.
Matteo’s eye never drifts from mine, not even when he nuzzles into my hand in a rare moment of softness between us. The move makes tears burn in my eyes, causing me to sniffle. Poor Matteo. I can’t even imagine…
