Page 54 of Matteo

He laughs as he opens the back door to put Layla inside. “After so many years in Baltimore, this is nice weather.”

Once he has her inside, he pulls the blanket over Layla down to her chest—so it isn’t covering her face. He holds his hands out for the bags. I hand them to him. Settling them down on the floor, he closes the door.

“Thanks for coming. I appreciate it. I’m feeling better. Before you came, I was getting another headache. Now, no headache. Even after Layla got upset.” He’s glowing with happiness.

Dear god, he’s so gorgeous I can’t breathe. Does he see my longing? His head tilts in question.

“Good, I’ll see you at home tonight.” I force out the words from my tight chest, unable to meet his eyes. Getting in the car, I close the door.

Matteo’s eyes narrow on me as I put on my seatbelt. I don’t miss that he stands in the cold, staring at the car until I’m out of sight.

Amy

I worry it will be weird when he gets home. Except it’s as if it were any day. Layla cries out in happiness to see him. He picks her up and cuddles her close. After we eat dinner, he gives her a bottle and puts her to bed.

Once he’s back, we sit down and do the jigsaw puzzle together with the television on. We talk about his day, but not for long. He wants to know how I’m doing and more about me. I tease him about setting a time for us to do the things from the Christmas chest. I tell him I want to do the pottery first.

He doesn’t flinch from it, “I’m good for any day during the week after five. Now that I have hired another doctor, after this Saturday, I’ll have Saturdays free. Don’t forget, I have brunch at Rafe’s on Sundays. It’s at ten, and I’m usually there for around two hours. The offer is still on the table for you to save me from my mother and sister-in-law.”

I force a laugh at the last bit. He might think my past and how poor I am is no big deal. But sometimes, when you’re too close to something, you miss the bigger picture. “I’m sure you’re strong enough to endure.”

“I’ll do my best.”

We go back to the puzzle. But I find it hard to focus. What if his mother did manage to set him up with someone? Would she be okay with me and Layla here? How soon before this came to an end? I make an excuse and flee to my room.

Stop it, Amy. You can’t have him. You’re just the housekeeper—nothing more. If you don’t get it together, you’ll ruin this.

Yet as I lay in bed restless and unable to sleep, all I can think of is Matteo with the kind of woman he belongs with. She would be a fancy college graduate with perfect blonde hair and legs up to her neck. He adores her, and he leaves me and Layla behind while she cries for her dada.

Oh god, shut up. Focus on one damn day and get through it until you get to the next.

Amy

Friday and Saturday are like Thursday, except Layla doesn’t have a screaming fit. Matteo feeds her the cereal with formula while we eat, and then he walks with her until she falls asleep.

When he leaves on Sunday Layla is taking her nap. And I’m hiding in my room pretending to nap too.

Once he’s gone, I can’t settle—roaming every inch of the condo, including the very cold rooftop deck. Until the weather sends me back inside.

I grab my notebook and go into Layla’s room to sketch her. The sketch is supposed to be her sleeping in her crib. Instead, it’s a sketch of Matteo holding her while she’s asleep.

It isn’t until I’m shading his insanely hot ass I realize what I’ve sketched. Red with embarrassment, I flip the page and try again. Except this one is him and Layla at the dining table with him feeding her.

My nerves are shot by the time he comes home. His mother pushed hard on him until he broke. He agreed to help out a woman desperate for a date on Saturday for some work thing.

It’s my fear from last night. He’s going to go on a date with a beautiful woman who belongs in his world.

Oh god.

CHAPTER 17

Matteo

The next week is a little bit of heaven mixed with hell. Heaven, because Amy brings Layla and has lunch with me every day. I discover Amy’s sarcastic sense of humor matches my own. And per her request, I share more about growing up and becoming a doctor. Although I want her to do all the talking so I can simply hear her voice.

I deserve the hell. It’s of my own making for upsetting Amy with the whole date thing. No matter how many times I try to explain, the woman isn’t looking for anything; she needs an escort to a work event. It was nothing—the woman was nothing to me.

Amy nods yet remains anxious and tense.

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