Page 13 of Matteo

“Not for the long term. Layla will need a backyard to run and play in. I’ll leave it up to Amy to decide the home when it’s time.”

“What were you thinking for Amy? And do you have her size?” My mother turns the page in her notepad.

“She’s an eighteen. And she’s only five-three, so keep petite in mind for length. Her shoe size is seven. I want several pairs of shoes for her. She is wearing leggings and a T-shirt. Since it could be all she can afford, could you get her a selection of clothes fit for this chaotic weather of almost January in Texas?”

My mother chuckles. “Yes, it can be difficult to go from a coat and gloves one day to a light jacket the next. I’ll buy her basics. She can shop for what she would like once she’s feeling better.”

I’m nodding, hoping Amy doesn’t resent my mother picking out her clothes. My mother has impeccable style. It’s timeless in that what she wears can fit in easily almost anywhere. Her clothes were never flashy despite all of them having designer labels.

“Come along, dear. We want to let Layla sleep. You’re going to enjoy your dinner right where I can see you.”

I roll my eyes as I follow my mother out of the room, careful to leave it open slightly to hear Layla. Once, I got caught up in planning after she brought me dinner and didn’t finish eating. When she brought me lunch the next day and found the half-eaten dinner, she was displeased—to say the least. Ever since then she sits with me while I eat to ensure I finish whatever she brings me.

She hands over her notebook. “Is there anything else you can think of?”

Sitting down at the dinner table, I go through it and add a few more things. Once I’m done, I hand her my credit card.

I open the container of food and find one of my favorites, chicken fried chicken with smothered potatoes and green beans. “You’re going to make me fat.”

She chuckles. “I think you’re underweight. Too many muscles and not an ounce of fat.”

I’m inhaling my food. Her housekeeper is an amazing cook. I don’t bother arguing with her since she’s not wrong. My main outlet for stress is working out. I’m heavy on weights and use a rowing machine. I only climb onto the treadmill once a week for a mile. Considering how much I work out, I should be eating more than once a day and chugging protein shakes. But food isn’t a priority for me.

Only now with Layla and Amy in the condo, that will need to change. “I’m going to have to fill the refrigerator, but I’m not even sure what to do as far as…”

My mother rolls her eyes and holds her hand out for my phone. She downloads an app and fills the cart. “It’s too late for today. So I put an order in for delivery tomorrow afternoon. Most of this is precooked, so you simply need to warm it up. The rest is prepared. All you need to do is put it into the oven to cook. Since there is no telling as far as allergies go, I have been careful to keep it to mainly non-gluten items and minimal dairy items.”

“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.” I really do. I shouldn’t be this clueless as a man at almost forty about ordering groceries. Except I have no idea what grocery stores are in Dallas or where they are. My extent of shopping for groceries was buying bread, eggs, and cheese from a nearby convenience store. In Baltimore, I had a housekeeper who dealt with all of this.

“You are welcome, dear. All right, see me out.” She taps her cheek for a kiss.

Closing the door behind her, I wonder how soon before she spills to my brothers, and they come running to tell me this will be a disaster.

CHAPTER 5

Amy

My bladder pushes me up out of the black. Blinking a few times to clear sleep so I can pick my way over the questionable patches on the motel carpet floor, I’m wondering where the ugly ceiling light went. Huh?

Wrapping my hands around the sheet and comforter, I’m startled to find it’s not the thin hotel sheet and abrasive bedspread. My bladder sends me out of bed at a run to the open bathroom door.

My eyes won’t take the overhead light, but it’s not needed as I can see easily to move around the large bathroom. A nightlight plugged in near the vanity is given more strength from the mirror near it.

As I make my way on unsteady legs to the vanity to wash my hands, brief flashes come back to me. The doctor, Matteo Castillo, with the soft golden eyes. Golden eyes that felt like they saw into my soul and recognized me—even though I’ve never seen him before. At least, I don’t think I have. Or maybe I had. I don’t remember how I made it from the motel to the room.

The recognition scared me. Did he know Danny? Was Danny looking for me after all? Only it couldn’t be. He’s a doctor. I came to the clinic because of the pain in my throat. He wasn’t going to hurt me—I knew it instinctively. Then, his gentle touch and concern confirmed it. I felt safe with him, so safe I longed to touch him to find out if he was real. He urged me to think of Layla…

Oh my god, Layla.

I’m back in the room looking for her. “Layla!” Damn it, it’s a croak.

A croak that brings him running. The overhead light is flicked on, burning my eyes. “It’s okay. Layla is right across the hall. She’s sleeping. Come see for yourself.”

He’s only wearing silky black pajama bottoms. His wide, muscled chest covered in dark hair is on full display. There’s a tattoo of a castle peeking through the hair. The oddest desire to trace the lines of the tattoo hits me—what?

I’m pulled out of the odd thought when he opens the bedroom door to the room directly across the hall from mine. The door was open already, only a few inches—enough for her cries to be heard.

When he notices I hesitate to go into the room, he opens the door wider and steps further back. Between the light in the hallway and a nightlight in the bedroom, it’s easy to see the white crib with the sides up against the wall. Standing over the crib, I see Layla on her back with her arms spread out.

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