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.”