Page 31 of Matteo

I shake my head. “You were a kid. I was certain I was going to marry the lead singer of my favorite boy group. Now, if you were to hand him to me on a platter, I wouldn’t want him. It turns out he also has no problem ending an argument with anyone—girlfriend or paparazzi—with his fists. Things can change. It’s no one’s fault when you grow out of love. I think you said that yourself yesterday.”

He’s quiet for a long minute. I hope like hell I didn’t make him angry. His hand runs down from the top of the braid to the bottom, giving me the lightest tug. “All done. Where were you when I was fifteen and needed to hear it?”

“In diapers, I think.” I bend my head back to look up at him. He’s laughing, really laughing. It’s the best sound in the world. When he looks down at me, he shakes his head. I let my head fall back against his chest.

A crashing sound comes from the television, and we both look to it. The main character made a huge mess. We groan in unison at what it means to the girl. Since I don’t have to sit up straight, my back brushes against Matteo’s chest. “She’s never going to live it down with her mom.”

When his arms wrap around me to bring me more in contact with his wide chest, air stutters out of my tight lungs. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax against him.

“This is a good show. Usually, when they’re dealing with someone as young as she is, the messages feel overly heavy and silly.” He muses.

“Hm, true. I didn’t like watching television geared toward kids when I was one.” In his arms is the best place in the world. I think I become engrossed in the show, but I slip into sleep without realizing it.

The next thing I know, yummy smells are teasing me awake. I check the clock on the bedside table to find I was asleep for more than two hours. Layla is gone. I’m sad I missed out on more time in Matteo’s arms.

No, stop it. He doesn’t need you getting clingy. Matteo is just an extremely nice guy who cares about all people. Remember, he offered to move you into an apartment or his mother’s house… But when I asked if he wanted me to leave, everything about his answer screamed he was honest when he said no.

Out of the restroom, I go into the kitchen to find Matteo at the table. Layla is in the highchair next to him. He’s eating while Layla gums banana squeezed out between her fingers. I’m shy, worried I messed up when I fell asleep on him.

“Hi,” Matteo greets me with a smile. His eyes are gold.

“Hi, is she actually getting any of that in her mouth?” I chuckle.

“It’s more or less her dessert. She got half of the banana in her oatmeal. You liked your oatmeal, didn’t you?” Layla pounds her tray with enthusiasm and laughs. “There are green chili chicken enchiladas on the tray. Or I can make you something else.”

“It smells delicious. I’ll have some of this.” I open the cabinet where I saw him take our plates from yesterday. Six enchiladas remain on the foil tray. I scoop two onto my plate.

“There are beans on the stove,” He points to a small pot.

“No thanks, I’m not really a beans person.” I shake my head as I join him at the table. “These enchiladas are delicious.”

His eyes run over me with concern. “Feeling better?”

So we’re not going to talk about me falling asleep in his arms? Okay, because simply thinking about it has me blushing. “My head doesn’t feel as bad. I still feel like I could sleep for another ten hours, though.”

Lines appear in his forehead. “Any fever or chills? Head pounding like a migraine?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “It’s just me. It’s always taken longer for me to get better than most.”

“You might have developed rheumatic fever or even damaged your kidneys. Are you peeing, okay?”

I consider the question. “I think so. It doesn’t feel like it’s too often or not enough.”

“You’ll tell me if you feel worse. If you’re not feeling better by Wednesday, I’ll take you to work and run some other tests.”

It’s an order. I fight not to laugh and nod. “You didn’t get anything to drink, you want something while I’m up?”

“Ice water would be good, please.” Layla becomes interested in my plate the second Matteo is up. “No, baby. Eat your banana. It looks yummy.” I encourage her. She slams her hand down with the banana in fury.

Before she can cry, Matteo is back. The moment she sees him, her outrage disappears. Now, she’s interested in what he is eating.

Matteo hands me the glass of water. He has a bowl of ice cream. “That looks good. What flavor is it?”

“It’s cookies and cream, and it’s very good. I’m sorry. I forgot all about the ice cream. There are as many different ice cream containers in the freezer as soups. Besides this one, there’s chocolate chip cookie dough, plain chocolate, plain vanilla, something called Death by Chocolate, and caramel with sea salt.”

“She just does not do anything by halves.” I’m once again impressed and slightly fearful of her.

“Yeah, she is.” He sighs. “She might have gone overboard again. It’s going to be up to you. Whatever you want to do, I’ll agree with.”

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