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I hesitated, unsure how to answer. "Back to himself. I told him everything—about my parents, about why I agreed to the marriage."
"How'd he take it?"
"Better than I deserved," I admitted. "But we're not out of the woods yet."
"Never are," Jono replied philosophically. "Club's got your back. Both of you."
"Appreciate it," I said, ending the call as I heard the water shut off.
I returned to preparing dinner, pulling out ingredients for a simple pasta dish. My mind was still processing everything—Matty's reaction to my confession, his vulnerability about his past behavior, and now Coombes's suspicious activity. Something was coming, and we needed to be ready.
Matty appeared in the doorway a while later, showered and shaved, dressed in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. I missed his dinosaur ones, and while I understood he wasn’t in that head space right now, it was a bit of a slap in the face. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, but he looked even younger than before, if that was possible.
"Smells good," he said, hovering uncertainly at the edge of the kitchen.
"Just pasta," I replied, gesturing toward the counter. "Want to help?"
He nodded, seeming relieved to have something to do. As he moved beside me to chop vegetables, I noticed how careful he was to maintain a small distance between us. The easy intimacy we'd shared in bed had been replaced by a cautious awareness.
"Jono called," I said, deciding honesty was the best approach. "Coombes has been making calls, moving money around. We're keeping an eye on him."
Matty's knife paused mid-chop. "He's planning something."
"Probably," I admitted. "But we're ready. The compound is secure, and we've got people watching his movements."
He resumed chopping, his movements precise and controlled. "I should be more afraid, shouldn't I? My godfather is trying to kill me, and I'm standing here making dinner like it's just an ordinary day."
"Shock does strange things," I offered. "And you've been through a lot."
"Yeah." He was quiet for a moment, focused on the vegetables. "It's weird, though. Part of me feels... relieved."
I glanced at him. "Relieved?"
"That I finally know," he clarified. "I've spent years missing him. Wondering why he never acted like he cared anything about me.” he paused. “But why now? What changed in two years? With the money I mean.”
"Because he’s made some bad financial decisions and he’s had to dip quite significantly into your funds to shore his own up." Matty slid the chopped vegetables into the pan.
"That makes sense. He never cared what I spent before."
We worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the sizzle of vegetables and the bubbling of pasta the only sounds. It was strangely domestic, this careful dance in the kitchen, and I found myself wondering if this was what our life could be like if circumstances were different.
"I've been thinking," Matty said finally, his voice deliberately casual. "About what happens after this is over."
I kept my attention on the sauce, giving him space to continue at his own pace.
"The contract says two years," he went on, "but once Harold is dealt with and the trust fund is secure, there's really no reason for you to stay married to me." His voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the slight tremor in it.
I set down the wooden spoon I'd been using to stir the sauce, turning to face him fully. "Is that what you want? To end the marriage early?"
Matty shrugged, not meeting my eyes as he focused intensely on arranging the garlic bread on a baking sheet. "I just mean... you didn't sign up for all this. The attempts on my life, the Little stuff, any of it. I know I said a Daddy, but that was really Ricky's idea and I went along with it. I hadn't realized about my Little. So, once you get justice for your parents, you should be free to live your life."
I studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers trembled slightly. "And what about what I want?"
"What do you want?" he asked quietly, finally looking up at me.
I held his gaze, wanting him to see the truth in my eyes. "I want to see where this goes. Not because of a contract or revenge or money, but because I care about you. Because when I thought I might lose you, nothing else mattered."
A flush crept up his neck, and he looked away again. "You barely know me."