Page 46 of Matteo

I snap out of my reverie, praying he’s unaware of what he’s doing to me. “Is she really going to be okay with me taking her job?”

“She’s very happy you’re taking over. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh since I met her. The nanny is Nancy, and she’ll be here at eleven. She will stay to watch Layla for us. They’re delivering my new vehicle sometime today, along with the paperwork we need to transfer the vehicle I already have to your name. It’s a courtesy—since they have several copies in their office. We’ll fill it out and go to the county tax office to transfer it. The office closes at 4:30, so I’ll leave work by 3:00 since I’d rather we get it all taken care of today.”

My stomach knots. “You’re serious about this car thing?”

An exhale that might be a laugh. “I don’t joke about anything important to me. Ensuring you and Layla are safe is extremely important to me. No more arguing when it comes to what I want to give you.”

Sighing, I give in. “Okay, fine. No more arguing when it comes to what you want to give me.”

“Good girl.” His voice has dropped an octave, and those golden eyes shimmer with heat.

Those words cause a red-hot burning coal to slide down from my stomach to my core. With a wink, he hands me the phone. The smile playing on his lips is one I’ve never seen there before. I don’t know why but I have the oddest desire to taste them to find out what it means.

He knows what he did to me. I swear he does. He takes his plate to the table without a look back at me, like he didn’t just rock my world. There’s coffee waiting for him on the table. Since I didn’t know how he took it, I also put the sugar and half and half beside it.

“Coffee tastes great. It’s the perfect strength for me.”

The words get me moving again. I’m a little resentful at how unaffected he is. I could be wrong, and this is all in my messed-up head.

We’d thrown in two drip coffees in the order yesterday. The one I made today is the one we both thought would be the tastiest. “I’m glad. It’s the one with pecan flavoring to it.”

“It works for me. I’m only in it for the caffeine.”

“Duly noted. Do you have a microwave at work to heat what I send with you for lunch?” I ask as I set the small cooler on the table.

He blinks a few times. “You made me lunch?”

I shrug. I’m not sure why it feels like something momentous for me to do for him. “Yes, of course. I thought that’s what you wanted—for me to make your three meals a day. Do you not want me to?”

“No, I mean, yes. Thank you. My housekeeper in Baltimore didn’t. I did have the hospital cafeteria, a half dozen fast food, as well as a handful of sit-down options around the hospital. There aren’t many places near the clinic. I often ordered delivery. Also, yes, there’s a microwave at work. I made sure there’s a toaster oven, too.”

I can’t help laughing. “Okay, if I clean you out, I promise I’ll leave the toaster oven behind.”

His smile has my stomach flipping a dozen times. “Everything but the toaster oven.”

Layla can be heard babbling. “I better go get her.”

“Can I see her before I go?” He stands, hesitant.

“She’d love it.”

Opening the door wider to Layla’s room, I feel Matteo a few feet behind me.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He whispers to her.

She’s on her back eating her fingers and swings her head to us. Seeing us through the bars of the crib, she lets loose a happy cry. “Mama. Dada. Dada. Dada.” Rolling over, she keeps saying it until she’s on her feet. One chubby hand is holding the top of the rail. The other is reaching out to Matteo. “Dada.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t teach her that. I’ve only said 'dada' to her maybe a dozen times her whole life.” I'm mortified. Also, why is she saying it now when she didn't once all day yesterday?

He chuckles, scooping Layla out of the crib. “There’s no need to apologize. I love it.” His dimples are deep in his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you for learning a new word. We were watching some baby shows the other day while you were resting. She loved them. Dada is so proud of you.”

Giving her kisses on her neck, making her giggle he’s as happy as she is. An alarm goes off on his phone. “Damn, I need to get going.” He hands her to me and takes the alarming phone out of his pocket. Clearing it, he sighs. “Okay. I’ll see you around three. If you need anything, call me. The number for my cell and the clinic is in your phone.”

“I will,” I promise him.

“Okay, bye, baby girl. Be good for Mommy.” He kisses her on the cheek. We’re so close that for a moment, I wonder if he’ll kiss me. But he only smiles. “See you later.”

“Bye,” I whisper. I’m holding Layla tight, unable to move. Did I want him to kiss me goodbye?

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