My gaze flicks up to the doorway and Matt’s shadow hasn’t moved. He’s stock-still. He can hear us but can’t see us. I give Marco a meaningful look.
“I know I promised you that I’d stay away from him, but I can’t. From the moment I met him in the café, I knew we were meant to be. I was looking for Greg, but I found Matt and it couldn’t have been a coincidence. It was fate. And we’re going to be together forever.”
Marco continues to stare at me like he’s trying to decipher if I just clandestinely took my first hit of crack when I point my chin over his shoulder. I give him another deliberate look, and slowly but surely, understanding washes across his face. He pauses, and I wonder if he’s going to play along or call me out. It takes less than a second for him to make up his mind. He flashes me a mischievous smile and I immediately know that he’s down for the mess.
“I’m so glad you’re finally admitting it,” he says. “I see the way he looks at you and there’s no hiding his feelings. The desire is palpable.”
“I’m sure everyone can sense it,” I tell him wistfully. “I know Matt and I are playing this cat-and-mouse game, but I don’t want to lie anymore. I have to tell him how I feel.”
“As you should. Did you know that last night I had a dream you were pregnant?”
“Did you really?” I ask with overjoyed excitement. “I bet it’s because of all the pheromones flying around between us. No joke, every time I see Matt my ovaries pound like a bass drum.”
We hear a thump then, and I’m pretty sure my fakeamorejust stumbled into a table or whatever piece of furniture he’s standing beside. Marco clasps a hand to his mouth as he tries not to laugh, and I close my eyes for a second to pull myself together.
“I’m going to tell him how I feel at dinner,” I force myself to say. “I want everyone to know.”
I could leave it at that, but I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet. As a matter of fact, I think it’s time to hit the gas. This is Marco’s and myThelma and Louisegrand finale and baby, we’re driving off this cliff.
“Please don’t think I’m weird,” I go on to say, “but last night I snuck into Matt’s room and I watched him sleep, and all I could think about was how beautiful our babies are going to be one day.”
My eyeline shifts up the second I stop speaking, and Matt’s shadow rushes away so fast that it practically leaves a cloud of dust in its wake. I let out a relieved laugh at his departure and cover my face with my hands. I’ve well and truly lost it. When I move my hands away, Marco is watching me, waiting for his much-deserved explanation.
“So do tell,” he says. “What devious little plot did I just make myself a party to?”
“Just a healthy dose of payback. I overheard Matt talking trash about me, so I figured I’d repay the favor.”
Marco takes in my revelation and as much as I’m sure he doesn’t personally have a problem with Matt, he’s also fiercely protective of me. He crosses his arms with moderate approval. “Killing him with kindness, are we?”
“Just figuratively.” I pause for a second, considering that maybe I should have taken the high road with Matt instead of going with my vindictive soap opera scene. “Was that ridiculously immature of me?”
Marco doesn’t appear bothered. “I mean, on the one hand, yes, but on the other hand, I respect it. I can only strive to ascend to your level of pettiness someday.”
He gives me a smile and nudges me with his hip as he walks past me, heading out of the room where he’ll most likely go upstairs.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he says over his shoulder. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a doozy and you best believe I’ll be enjoying it from my front-row seat.”
Dinner is a casual but pretty affair with fresh-cut flowers serving as the centerpiece—a burst of color in an otherwise darkly elegant dining room. We’re seated around a long mahogany table as the aroma of hot bread thickens the air like an intoxicating fog. It’s the kind of bread that crackles when you squeeze it and is life changing when you taste it. It’s set beside matching glass vials of oil and balsamic vinegar, looking sinful and tempting as can be. No one’s eating yet, though, since we’re not all here.
Matt is missing.
Marco is sitting across from me, and Holly is beside him. Professor Leoni is stationed at the head of the table. Of course Matt’s empty seat and place setting are directly to my right, further confirming my suspicions I’m probably cursed.
Professor Leoni has just finished telling us how she got into teaching after she retired from working full-time when she turns away with a sigh.
“You must accept my apologies. Matteo is usually never late for dinner.”
Marco gives me an accusing glance and I give him a “it’s not my fault” shrug as Professor Leoni picks up her phone and moves her fingers across the touch screen.
“One moment,” she tells us as she holds the phone to her ear. A few seconds later she begins to speak. “Matteo, we’re all waiting for you. Dinner is ready.” She pauses, an alarmed look suddenly clouding her face. “What do you mean you’re not hungry?” She pauses again, and in the span of a few seconds, her eyes go from being filled with motherly worry to shifting into angry slits. She erupts into a flurry of Italian, hand gestures abound, and when she hangs up a few seconds later she takes a calming breath and smiles. “He’ll be right down,” she says regally.
Holly, Marco and I all grin, fully pretending we didn’t just hear our otherwise jovial hostess threaten her son’s life in Italian. Soon enough, Matt appears in the dining room.
“There you are, Matteo,” his mother announces. “Sit down, sit down. I’ll just go and get our first course.” She shoves him deeper into the room as she exits, and I look on as he quietly scans the room for his intended seat. When he realizes that he’s meant to be sitting beside me, the color all but drains from his face. Apparently, my immense feelings of love aren’t reciprocated. A heartbreaking truth to accept.
Matt continues to look at his empty chair like he’d sooner saddle up into a guillotine before he’d sit beside me, and I can’t stop the echo of his earlier words from replaying in my brain.
I’m a stalker.
