Exposed

Chapter Seven

When the doorbell rings, my mitted hand freezes on the handle of the stove as I hear my mother's heels clack against the floor in order to go answer it. My momentary disbelief subsides, turning effectively back into anger. Opening the oven, I reach inside and grab the fruitcake, setting the lumpy dessert onto the rack.

I throw my mitt on the top of the stove, taking a deep breath before turning in search of Matteo. He's propped against the cabinets, staring at me. I smile apologetically and walk to him, relieved when his arms extend to me in invitation.

"Merry Christmas, Danny! It's so good of you to come!"

My eyes close. "We just have to get through a couple more hours."

My ex-fiancé stalks into the kitchen, surrounded by my family. To them, the chosen one. The one I chased away... the safe guy. My mother is complimenting his choice of sweater while Danny hands over a bottle of champagne to my father. And then his eyes scan the room for mine.

An uneasy feeling courses through me at his directness in front of Matteo, who he hasn't acknowledged. Crossing the room, he shocks us both when he leans in, planting a kiss to my cheek, pretending not to notice the way I flinch at the contact.

Matteo's arm is still wrapped around my waist, for Christ's sake.

"Em, thanks for the invite."

The invite? This guy thinks I wanted him to be here?

"Merry Christmas," I mumble, peering up to find Matteo's unsettled gaze on Danny, a silent warning. Danny is arrogant enough to try to undermine him.

"How are you, Matteo? Better now?"

I stiffen, glaring not at Danny, but at my mother.

"Yeah," Matteo answers calmly. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Glad to hear it."He turns towards my mom. "So, have I missed the festivities yet? Fruitcake?"

"We're about to sit down to dinner," Dad says, looking at me. "Do you need help with anything, sweet pea?"

"No, we've got this."

I'm referring to Matteo when I say we, and Danny is smart enough to know it.

***

"I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again."

I have the bowl of mashed potatoes in my grasp, steaming my palms. Matteo smirks at the dread seeping through my words, although his focus remains on cutting the meat into thin slices. The group has conjoined around the dining table, interested in Danny's life on tour. Not that I'm introducing the love of my life to them.

"This is fine, Em," he presses. "You're overreacting."

"I think I'm being pretty damn calm right now. I should be tearing them a new one."

"Emma, what did you expect?" His eyes slant as he sets down the knife. "I'm the alcoholic who broke your heart repeatedly and cost you your job. I expected this."

"Well, first, that's not who you are, at fucking all. And second, maybe I'm naïve but I didn't expect this. My family usually has the capacity for compassion, Matteo."

He has no intention of sitting here arguing. He makes that known when he leans down and kisses my temple, taking the plate of sliced meats with him, on his way to join the others.

Long after he's gone, and I hear them acknowledge his presence, I remain, cemented to the floor where I am. I don't know how to gear myself for this, how to keep my mouth shut.