Page 42 of Matteo

She’s a Taylor Swift fan and loves Pink. Her mom played blues in the house. So she loves Stevie Ray Vaughan, Muddy Waters, B.B. King, and Eric Clapton. And yes, Layla is named after the song. Her mother used to play Layla on repeat, wishing she had someone who loved her the way Clapton loved Layla.

I discovered that she loves rainy days so much that she opens the windows to let the scent of rain in. She also likes tea and loves coffee. Her sad sigh as she talks about not having her favorite coffee in months makes me want to run to the store this second to get it for her. I checked the app for the Moka pot she used to make the espresso. Except the stores have all closed early for the holiday.

As a doctor, I depend on coffee, but I don’t love it nearly as much as she does. I encourage her to buy the pot and espresso she loves, and if she needs a grinder, all of it. I can’t wait to try this coffee. The way her face dropped at my lack of brand knowledge or even a preference has me laughing.

While she likes rainy days, she hates being cold. She’s always loved Christmas—admitting she once had her tree up until February. I tell her to leave everything up for as long as she wants. When she’s ready for it to come down, let me know, and I’ll help her. The way her eyes light up at the idea of leaving the tree up is every fucking thing. I don’t understand why she loses the light seconds later.

“I’m feeling guilty about all the Christmas gifts and shopping done for Layla. You were right, she was too young to appreciate it. It was a waste.” Her forehead knots.

“Hey, don’t do that. It wasn’t a waste. I think one of the great things about kids is seeing the world through their eyes. It reminded me of when I was younger and used to be excited by Christmas. I’m glad we did it.” I assure her.

She’s back to smiling. I can barely hear her telling me about her favorite Christmas gifts above the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. One gift she left behind when she went into the group home was the family dog. Walter was a poodle and Maltese mix and her best friend. She wanted a dog, but Danny told her no.

Chocolate eyes big, she asks if I like dogs. I tell her that I love dogs. I simply never had the time they deserved. I see a dog in my future, and I can’t wait.

I want all the family things I told myself I didn’t want for years. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them. I believed I didn’t deserve them. Since I was born with the biggest blessing in the world, money, I didn’t get to have all the other things people wanted in life. I needed to pay for my wealth in other ways. Devoting myself to helping others is what I needed to do to even the scales.

Fuck those scales. Fourteen years of complete devotion to saving lives gave me the satisfaction of saving those lives. It also gave me severe fucking depression. I earned this—her.

I’m going to spend the rest of my life devoted to her and Layla. Hopefully, more children will follow. I can’t wait to see Layla as a big sister. Our family will be the most important thing to me, and they will never be in doubt about that.

I’m going to give Amy everything she deserves. It’s a good thing I have a private jet at my disposal since she dreams of standing in front of the masters of art.

She longs to go to the Art Institute in Chicago or the National Gallery of Art in D.C. and see the art in the Louvre. I’m aware there are a few other places art lovers long to see, like the Prado in Madrid and the Uffizi in Florence. I’m going to need to renew my passport and get her and Layla one.

I note all her favorite foods, some are my favorites as well. Her second favorite holiday is New Year’s Eve. She loves the idea of beginning again, hopeful that it’s true. And she loves how it all ends in fireworks.

We tune into New Year’s Eve celebrations around the world and watch the fireworks. Her wide eyes and gasps have me more entranced than the fireworks. Dinner is the salmon and rice to balance out all the candy and chips. Dessert is ice cream because it’s still a celebration. Layla is put to bed at her normal bedtime of seven.

Amy falls asleep a little after ten. I have everything cleaned up and am in bed by eleven myself. It’s the best damn New Year’s Eve I’ve ever had.

CHAPTER 13

Amy

Sleep is slipping far away when I hear Layla laughing, followed by Matteo’s deep voice. I roll over to find it’s a little after ten in the morning. Sighing, I’m so damn grateful for him letting me sleep in. Of everything, I really am the most grateful for the rest I’ve gotten.

Although I had more time to sleep in the motel room, I’ve spent the time stressed out about finding a job.

I’m finally feeling better. Not just in body…as corny as it sounds, in spirit. It’s not only from sleep. It’s also because of Matteo. How he helped with Layla and seemed to love her as much as I do. The way he understood things about me even I didn’t.

When I first opened my eyes to him, if I had been told what would happen over the last few days I wouldn’t have believed it. Power radiates from him, not because of his muscles and width. It’s almost like it’s a part of who he is. Yet he is nothing like what that power would normally mean—something to be feared, to be wary of crossing.

I blush, thinking of how gently he held me while he was on his knees. He was being nice. I’m sure he didn’t even remember what he said to calm down a nearly hysterical woman.

Except Matteo doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. It might be less than a full week, but I know it the same way I know my name. He didn’t just say it, he made me repeat it. For a moment, when he told me to say it again… I press my legs tightly closed against the heat pooling at the core of me.

Stop it. Don’t make him hurt you by telling you he doesn’t want you the same way you want him.

In the shower, despite what I told myself, it won’t stop running through my mind. Matteo’s hand gently cupped my chin as his thumb ran over my cheek so slowly I could feel every ridge of his fingerprint. The electricity from his touch wakening every cell in my body. His promise to never leave me and Layla. How he would always be here for us—no matter what.

It was a promise that I have no doubt in my mind he would do everything he could to keep. Yet…how could he know what will happen five or ten years from now? I’m just the housekeeper, right?

The questions swirling in my head are giving me a headache—enough. It won’t be answered now, so focus on what I can control.

In my closet, I don’t know what has me reaching for it. It’s a beautiful silky sundress in lilac with floating tendrils of teal. I barely notice the way I’m biting my lip until I pull it down and hold it against me. I wonder if it really will fit. I’m slipping it on with my eyes closed, certain it will be too small. Except it’s not. It fits perfectly.

I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror. The lilac against her skin gives her a glow I’ve never seen before.

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