242
Alaric’s POV
Emilia was pacing again. I’d seen her do it countless times in the past two days, wearing a path into the floor whenever something gnawed at her. Tonight, it was Matteo. Again. Like the past two days.
I leaned back in my chair, glass of bourbon in hand, and watched her. She didn’t notice-or maybe she didn’t care-that I was sitting there quietly, letting her run herself into the ground with her frustration. She was muttering under her breath, no doubt rehearsing the same arguments she’d been making to me for days now.
“Emilia,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “Do you think Matteo’s life will implode if you don’t fix it for him?”
She stopped, mid-step, and turned to glare at me. “This isn’t about fixing his life, Alaric. This is about fixing what I broke.”
“Then apologize and move on,” I said simply, taking a slow sip of my drink. “It’s not that complicated.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s complicated when he won’t even pick up the phone.”
“That sounds like a him problem,” I replied, shrugging. “Not yours.”
She threw her hands up in exasperation, her pacing resuming with more fervor. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing! Matteo’s my brother. He’s hurting, and it’s my fault. I have to-”
“You have to stop meddling,” I interrupted sharply. “Matteo is a grown man. He’s not some kid who needs you holding his hand every time something goes wrong.”
Her jaw tightened, and I could see the retort forming before she even opened her mouth. “I’m not meddling. I’m trying to fix things.”
“No,” I said, cutting her off again. “You’re trying to control things. There’s a difference.”
She froze, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. “I’m not trying to control anything.”
I set my glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I looked up at her. “Aren’t you? You didn’t like Gianna, so you made sure Matteo knew it. You pushed, judged, and got involved where you shouldn’t have. And now that it’s blown up in your face, you’re scrambling to ‘fix’ it-not because it’s what Matteo needs, but because you can’t stand the idea of not being in control.”
Her face turned red, and for a moment, I thought she might actually yell at me. But instead, she sank onto the couch, her shoulders slumping. “That’s not fair,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.
“Isn’t it?” I countered. “Be honest with yourself, Emilia. What is this really about? Matteo’s happiness? Or your guilt?”
She didn’t answer right away, and I could see the conflict in her eyes. She hated being called out, but she hated lying to herself even more.
“I just want him to be okay,” she said finally, her voice shaky. “I feel like I ruined something good for him, and now he’s… lost.”
“Lost?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “He’s not lost, Emilia. He’s pissed. And he’s allowed to be. Let him work through it on his own.”
“But what if he can’t?” she argued, leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly together. “What if he never forgives me? What if Gianna never forgives him?”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Matteo doesn’t need you to fix his love life. He needs you to back off. Give him space. Let him figure it out.”
She stared at me, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and frustration. “I don’t know how to do that,” she admitted, her voice small.
“Of course you don’t,” I said dryly. “Because you’ve spent your entire life trying to manage everyone else’s. But here’s the thing, Emilia-Matteo’s not your project. He’s your brother. And sometimes, the best thing you can do for him is to step back and let him handle his own mess.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could tell she didn’t like what I was saying. But she needed to hear it.
“What if he makes the wrong choice?” she asked after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Then he makes the wrong choice,” I said simply. “And he learns from it. That’s life. You can’t protect him from that, no matter how hard you try.”
She looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together nervously. “I just don’t want to lose him,” she said quietly.
“You’re not going to lose him,” I said firmly. “But you might push him further away if you keep trying to control the situation. Let him come to you when he’s ready.”
She nodded slowly, although I could still she she was doubting it. “What if he does t?”
I leaned back in my chair, picking up my glass again. “Then that’s on him, not you.”
She remained quiet, and I let her be. She needs to come to terms with the truth. I could see that she was still struggling with it, but at least she wasn’t pacing anymore.
“Alaric?” she said softly after a few minutes.
“Hm?”
“Do you think I’m a bad sister?”
I looked at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. For all her bluster and stubbornness, Emilia wasn’t used to admitting her insecurities.
“You’re not a bad sister,” I said finally. “You’re just… relentless. And sometimes, that works in your favor. But this time, it didn’t. Learn from it.”
She nodded again, and this time, the stiffness in her shoulders seemed to ease a little. “Thanks,” she said quietly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said, smirking. “You’ve still got a lot of work to do. Starting with staying out of Matteo’s business.”
She gave me a half-hearted glare, but I could see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll try,” she said.
“That’s all I’m asking,” I said, raising my glass in a mock toast. “Try not to make things worse.”
She rolled her eyes, but the small smile stayed. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn,” I shot back, grinning. “Guess we make a good team.”