The Pretense

Chapter 18

When Harper disappeared from view, Matt stalked off without a clear destination in mind, burning with anger. Didn't she know what a concession he had made for her? What he had just offered her?

Matt stopped when he found himself outside on a tiered balcony, staring sightlessly at the glittering city lights.

Thank God she hadn't taken him up his offer. What had he been thinking? He never took a woman on tour.

"I'm probably not the best person to follow you out here, but I know at least out of respect you won't walk off on me."

Matteo turned to find his mother standing behind him.

"Want to talk about it?"

No.

"Thanks, ma, but I'm fine."

"Don't ask me how this works," his mother stepped closer. "But a mother always knows when one of her children is lying even when they're fully grown."

Matteo blew out a breath and tipped his head to the starry sky. He really didn't want his mother butting into his life right now. He cursed himself for not leaving earlier when he had the chance.

"Ma –"

His mother held her hand up in an imperious way that reminded him of Harper. "Don't brush me off, figlio. I once let your father go into a race in turmoil and I won't my son to the same if I can't help it."

Matteo stared down at the tiny woman who had the strength and fortitude of an ox, and his anger morphed into something else. Something that felt a little like despair.

She stood beside him and the silence stretched taut until he couldn't stand it anymore. "You found it hard to be married to Dad with his job. I know you did."

His mom sighed, "Yes."

"Why didn't you ask him to quit?" Matteo heard the pain in his voice and did his best to mask it. "He would've done it for you."

She regarded him steadily, "You're still angry with him. Or with me, perhaps?"

He turned back to the lights below. Cars like toys were moving in a steady stream along the driveway. Harper said he was angry and right now he feels angry. What's the point in denying?

"I never realized just how much you closed yourself off from us after your father died," his mother's soft voice penetrated the sluggish fog in his mind. "You were always so serious. So controlled. But somehow you were still able to make us laugh."

She offered him a sad smile that held a wealth of remembered pain.

"I can see now it was your way of dealing with your pain, and I'm sorry I wasn't there more for you right after it happened."

Matteo raked an unsteady hand through his hair, "He always acted so bloody invincible and I..." he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, "I stupidly believed him."

"Figlio, I'm so sorry. I must've only made it worse by relying on you so heavily after his death. I thought you understood."

Matteo felt something release and peel open deep inside him. Clasping his mother's shoulders, he drew her into his arms. "I'm not angry anymore at you, Ma."

"Not anymore, hmm?"

He heard her sniff and so he tightened his embrace. "I'm sorry I've been a stronzo to you and to Ricardo. I treated him appallingly when he dutifully drove me to go-cart meets every month, stood in the wings of every damned race." He stopped, unable to express his remorse at the way he had treated his mother's second husband.