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.
44
Chloe
I’m on a warpath by the time I get back to Santiago’s house. My tears have dried on my cheeks, leaving behind streaks in my blush. Santiago isn’t in the doorway when I return. I’m somewhat grateful because it gives me the ability to think over what he did.
I step into my bedroom and leave the door open, not caring if Santiago walks inside.
It doesn’t take him long to find me. I’d pity him for the shitstorm he entered, but he is the cause of it after all.
“What’s going on?” His eyebrows draw together as he assesses my luggage on the bed.
“I’m leaving.” My voice is wooden.
The thump of his iWalk fills the silence. “What? Why?”
I shrug before throwing my clothes into my luggage, not caring how they land as long as they make it in there. I’m desperate to make this process as painless for me as possible. I’m no coward in the face of pain, but even I have my limits. And this man right here is the ultimate test of them.
“Matteo told me about my dad.” I throw a pair of sneakers with a little extra oomph into my luggage, and they smack against my clothes.
“What do you mean? Look at me.” Santiago presses a tentative hand on my shoulder.
I wince at his touch, and he drops his hand. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. He told me everything, including how you knew for days about my real father and didn’t tell me. If there is one thing I ask of you during this conversation, it’s to not pretend anymore. I think I’ve had enough of your lies to last me a lifetime.” My hoarse voice cracks. I blink back the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes.
I might have cried with Matteo, but I refuse to cry in front of Santiago. He is the last person who deserves my tears, especially when he’s the reason for them in the first place.
“Chloe, please listen to me. I didn’t lie to you.”
I spin on my feet. “To me, withholding the truth is the same thing as lying; it doesn’t matter how you want to validate it in your head. You knew Matteo’s true identity and you said nothing. You let me go about my days like nothing happened. And worse, you let me believe my dad was really alive, and that’s just cruel.”
He recoils. “I didn’t want to. I told him to tell the truth and he didn’t listen. You have to believe me. When you went to his house for the first time, he was supposed to tell you. That was the plan.”