“I don’t know how you should tell her, but you will do it. She deserves to hear it from you.”
“What if you told her instead of me?”
I sputter. “What?” This man is absolutely psychotic.
“Yes. You’re her boyfriend. She trusts you the most. It would be easiest coming from you than me—someone who is basically a stranger. You can soften the blow, and then I’ll share who my brother was with her once she’s ready.”
I can’t find the nerve to break her heart. Not when I worked the whole summer to gain it in the first place.
I shake my head from side to side aggressively. “No way. You’re not putting this on me. She deserves to hear it from the person who was closest to her father. And that’s not me. I can’t answer any of the questions she might have.” And the last thing I want to do is break her heart. I’d rather have Matteo be the one to do it.
I can’t find it in me to rip someone’s dream away from them. It’s happened to me, and that kind of pain can be devastating.
“Cazzo.” Matteo pinches the bridge of his nose.
I don’t need a translator to draw my own conclusions about that phrase. His hesitation and dislike about the plan isn’t my problem. To be honest, I don’t give a fuck how upset this situation makes him. Chloe needs to hear this news from someone, and he’s the best choice. He can help her mourn the loss of her father better than I can.
“I’m giving you a day to figure this shit out. I’ll take Chloe somewhere, and you’ll figure out the best way to break the news. Got it?”
“I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t know if a day is enough time to figure out what to do.”
“A day is all you’re going to get. She’s going to want to see you again, and you can’t pretend you’re someone you’re not.”
His eyes dart away. It sets me on edge, and I need to gain control of this situation.
“You think this is easy for me? It’s not. The last thing I want is for this situation to ruin her in a different way than ever before. You have no idea how excited she was to spend time with you, thinking you were her dad.” Every muscle in my body locks up at the idea of Chloe finding out about all of this.
Matteo’s eyes widen. “Does she even want to own a coffee shop?”
I shake my head from side to side.
“Wow.” His eyes drop. “She spent the whole summer doing things she wasn’t interested in to get to know me?”
“She’d do it all over again, just for the chance to spend time with you. She was desperate to be around you in whatever way she could get. And now…”
“Now I’m going to break her heart.”
There’s no use in denying Matteo’s claim. I love Chloe, but I can’t be the one to destroy her happiness. Not when she made it her mission to become mine. I’d rather help pick up the pieces of her broken heart once Matteo shatters her world into nothing but stolen wishes and missed chances.
I shut the bedroom door behind me without making a noise. Chloe is in the same spot I left her, looking peaceful as she holds on to the pillow. Something clenches in my chest at her vulnerability. A feeling of helplessness hits me as I consider everything I learned not even an hour ago.
Nothing in the world can fix what she’s about to learn. All I can do is make the process as painless for her as possible.
Making quick work of my shoes, clothes, and prosthetic, I settle back into the bed. I pull Chloe into my body. She throws a leg over my body and nestles into the crook of my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close to my chest. It’s as if my conversation with Matteo never happened. Honestly, I wish I could go back in time and erase my memory of his confession.
I stay like that for an hour. I don’t move an inch, afraid to wake her after the hellish night she had. And worse, I’m worried if I wake her up, the guilt will tear me apart. Guilt makes me stupid and reckless. She has a way of wanting me to be better, including telling her the truth no matter what. Even if it means hurting her.
I shake my head, nixing the idea. I’m doing this for her. Matteo needs to think of the best way to tell her, and I need to wait.
She startles awake, her body jolting against mine.
“Good morning.” I brush her hair out of her face.
“Morning.” A lazy smile graces her face.
“How are you feeling?
“Like I have the worst hangover, minus the alcohol.”
“Because of last night?”