Page 63 of Matteo

“Elizabeth.” Her chuckle is knowing. “She’s as ruthless as her sons when it comes to getting what she wants. I’m positive the date she set up for Matteo with Melissa was totally to get you two together.” She begins removing the items from the grocery bags.

“Really? I did wonder why she did something that made Matteo so mad.”

Layla squeals from the activity center that she’s bouncing in. “Hello, cutie pie. I left my kiddos with the nanny. It’s nice to unplug from being a mom for a little while. I adore my kids, but sometimes it’s nice to be me—not mom. Just for a few hours.”

I nod in understanding. “I think we all need that sometimes. As soon as I had Layla, people at work only talked to me about her—it’s like I didn’t exist.”

Hope takes out a large pan and sets it on the stove. “Same. I gave in to Javier on the nanny for help. At the same time, it’s been nice to get out of the house and get my nails done or hair done and not worry about rushing back to meet their schedule. Except for having to pump, of course.”

I’m surprised by the amount of seasonings she’s taking out of one of the bags. I’m about to mention one of the cabinets is full of the same seasonings when she opens the cabinet and begins throwing them away.

“These have been in here since before we moved out. Seasonings take your cooking from okay to awesome. Most are good for at least six months to a year. People are going to bitch they’re better for longer than that—I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, anything longer than a year, toss it.”

I don’t dare argue and study the spices, half of them I’ve never heard of let alone cooked with.

“Today, we’re going to make enchiladas. There’s a long way of boiling the chilis to rehydrate them and blending them. Then there’s the spices method and tomato sauce. These things are going to be staples you always keep in the pantry so you can easily throw all kinds of meals together.” Her hand is over half the items she has on the counter.

Over the next two hours, Hope is the sweetest teacher ever. She’s patient and thorough. We make chicken and ground beef enchiladas. I learn how to chop, julienne, and slice. I’m also shown how to use all the tools in the cupboards that overwhelmed me before. I also learn which spices do what and go together and which don’t.

I discovered how easy it is to make tortillas, and flour goes everywhere—including on Layla.

It’s the way I always imagined having a sister would be. I’m grateful I didn’t get a chance to turn her down.

“These are so freaking good.” I moan as I take a bite of one. “But I do think the ones with the rehydrated chilis are better.”

She shrugs. “Me too. Except sometimes it’s not always something you have time for, or you forget to buy them. This is another way of having what you want using what you have. It’s how they talk about the whole formula versus breastfeeding—fed is best, it’s not breast is best.”

I nod, surprised by her vehemence.

“Sorry, I just talked to a friend I made during Lamaze class. The poor thing is having the hardest time breastfeeding. People are making her feel awful about giving up and using formula, including her shitty husband.”

“Poor woman. I never realized how hard breastfeeding was until I had Layla. Everyone makes it seem like it’s this natural, magical thing that just happens. If I hadn’t been in the hospital with an infection and had the lactation specialist come in every day for a week, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” I cringe at the memory of feeling like a failure.

“Exactly. My mom had a bunch of kids, and I never saw her struggle with breastfeeding. Only because she learned before I was old enough to see it. And no one wants to talk about struggling because then you’re made to feel like you’re the problem and a defective woman. It’s bullshit.”

Hope is holding Layla. Layla’s eyes are big and her mouth is open wide as she stares up at Hope.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Am I getting too cranky for you? I don’t mean it.” She looks up to me. “It’s funny how sensitive babies are to the adults around them. I’m not upset with you. No, I’m not.” Hope kisses Layla over her face and into her neck.

Layla laughs loudly.

An alarm goes off on her phone. “Okay, I need to get going. Javier will be home soon for lunch.”

We split the enchiladas we’ve made. So she can take some home to Javier.

“Let’s do this again next week. This was fun.” Hope says as she gives me a hug goodbye.

“I’d like that. Thank you so much.” And I really mean it.

Amy

“This is the first appointment. It’s simply to meet and assess—for both of you. You don’t have to come back, and you can leave at any time.” Matteo reassures me for the third time today.

I do that exhale laugh thing I thought was all his. I’m so glad he ignored me when I told him I could come on my own. He arranged for Elizabeth to take care of Layla at the condo. Since this is during her longest nap of the day, I’m hoping she will sleep through the time I’m gone.

A door opens, and a woman fills the doorway. She’s small, with graying hair and large blue eyes that take over her face.

“Hillary Swift.” She holds out her hand.

---