Something about Matteo is off today. I can’t put my finger on it, but he barely looks at me. It’s as if he’s not really here, even though I sit on the couch across from him. It was weird at first when he lacked any kind of enthusiasm as I showed him photos of me growing up. The notion stung, but I chalked it up to him not feeling well. But now, he doesn’t even smile when he talks about Giovanni. And I know how much he loves Giovanni.
“Are you okay?” I fidget with my hands.
He shakes his head as if it can make whatever he is thinking about disappear. “No.”
I freeze. “What’s wrong?”
He sighs. His gaze penetrates me and pins me to my seat. “I have something to tell you.”
Oh, God. This can’t be good. The last time someone had something to tell me, I ended up in the back of a cop car because of Ralph.
“Yes?” I breathlessly whisper.
“I haven’t been fully honest with you.”
“What do you mean?” I somehow get the words out despite the tightness in my throat. Every muscle in my body locks up, and I find it difficult to breathe easily.
Matteo doesn’t answer me. Instead, he lets out a sob as he breaks down. His body shakes as he hunches over and shields his face from me.
What the hell? With wobbly legs and a racing heart, I move to sit beside him on the couch and wrap my arm around his shoulder. I can’t stand by and watch him lose it without offering some kind of support.
“What’s the matter? You’re scaring me.”
He sniffles. “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. I didn’t want to tell you, but Santiago told me it’s the right thing, and he’s probably right. But I still don’t know how to do this, so give me a second.”
“Santiago?” I hiss.
Something ugly and dark bubbles within me, begging to be let out. What is happening, and what the hell has Santiago been hiding from me?
Matteo nods, wiping away a stray tear.
“Are you talking about another Santiago by chance?”
He shakes his head from side to side.
My stomach churns, and acid crawls up my throat. I swallow it back.
I don’t know what to ask about first. Why would Matteo and Santiago talk in the first place? What is upsetting Matteo enough to the point that he would cry?
Matteo doesn’t give me a choice in the matter. He steamrolls on, clearly gaining some kind of courage after his outburst. “Chloe, it kills me to do this to you. Shit, it kills me to have lied to you in the first place.”
My body feels like all the warmth was sucked out of me, replacing blood with icy water. “What do you mean by you lied?”
“There’s no easy way to tell you this, but…God. I’m not your father, Chloe.”
I laugh in a way that says I’m everything but mentally okay. Are we seriously going through this cycle again? With Matteo, it’s as if I take two steps forward before running a mile backward. “Yes, you are.”
He moves away from me, giving him enough space to stare me straight in the eyes. “No. My identical twin brother was your father. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re actually my niece. I can’t be your dad. I swear on my son’s and my lives.”
I might not have a college degree, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand twin genetics and DNA.
Like a dam bursting, tears spring free from my eyes, coating my lashes. “How can you be sure?” Please, don’t be sure. I can’t handle this level of deception.
The irony is not lost on me. I prefer the lie to the truth any day right now.
“I have only been with a handful of women in my life, and none of them were from America. I was faithful to my ex-wife—well girlfriend at the time. But my brother…he was different. Riskier.” His voice cracks. “My brother would have loved you. You remind me of him with your humor and your smile. He even got the same look as you in his eyes when he had an idea or got overly excited.”
Matteo continues to talk, but I struggle to process anything he says. Nothing matters except for that fact that he speaks about his brother in the past tense.
“Why are you talking about him like he’s dead?”
Matteo looks down at his lap. “He passed away the summer after you were born.”
The few tears I shed earlier become a waterfall, trickling down my face before landing on my lap. I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. After all these years waiting and wishing… After Matteo pretended to be my father and told me stories. None of it matters. This whole damn trip was pointless. My father isn’t even here, let alone alive.
God, how does my life continue to get worse as the years go by? I don’t bother brushing away my tears. They fall in a continuous stream down my face, disappearing into the fabric of my custom embroidered jeans.
My father really is dead. Gone before I ever had a chance to meet him. My lungs burn as I inhale deep breaths, trying to ease the ache building inside of my chest.
“Say something. Please,” Matteo’s voice rasps.
“What do you want me to say? You lied.”
Fuck, it hurts. And worse, I should’ve expected it. Instead, I let my guard down around the one person I expected to be there for me.
I let out a shrill laugh. Of course he let me down. It’s as if I’m cursed, forever stuck surrounding myself with people who have no intention of building me up.
He winces. “I never wanted to lie to you. But I didn’t know how to tell you the truth once I learned more about you. You have been through too many tragedies in your short life, and I didn’t want to add to it.”
“Nothing is more tragic or cruel than feeling like I gained a father only to lose him in the same week,” I snap.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t make it okay.”
He nods his head. “You’re right. I want to make it up to you.”
I stand, unable to bear more of this conversation. I need time to process. To cry. To wrap my head around the fact that my father is dead. “You said Santiago told you that you needed to tell me the truth because it was the right thing. What did you mean by that?”
Matteo nods like a guilty bobblehead.
The thought of Santiago going along with this scheme for days makes me ill. “He knows about your true identity?”
More bobbing.
I want to scream. I want to throw up. I want to launch something fragile across the room and watch it shatter into a million pieces like my heart in my chest.
“He also willingly kept this from me?” I say the words more to myself than Matteo. My heart doesn’t want to believe the words, but deep down, I know the truth.
How can Santiago tell me he loves me one minute and lie to me the next? That’s not love, that’s deception.
“Listen, he wanted me to tell you the instant he found out, but I told him to hold off until I coul—”
I raise my hand, halting Matteo’s words. “You both were wrong. I don’t care what excuse you want to come up with for him. Withholding information is a prettier kind of lie meant to make the liars feel better about their actions.”
“He never wanted to lie.”
“Then he shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” I exit the room, leaving a gobsmacked Matteo behind.
I open the front door and step onto the driveway. Tears continue to fall, and I brush them away with shaky fingers.
“Wait. Chloe! Wait!” Matteo calls out from behind. “Please, just please give me a chance to explain everything better. When you’re calm, that is.”
All I can do is nod my head. I want more answers, no matter how painful they are. It might not be easy but I need closure about my father, and that will never happen if I run away. But I can’t deal with Matteo for the rest of today. If I do, I might break into a thousand pieces, and I’m not ready for that kind of devastating experience.
Heartbreak is better dealt with in private, away from those who made it happen in the first place.
