Page 66 of Matteo

I hate that while he might be close, it’s not close enough—since no part of him is touching me. As much as I hate it, it’s probably the only reason I can form words. “It would go a long way to me not feeling stabby.”

An exhale of air, almost a laugh. “Oh no, not stabby. Considering we’re in the kitchen near knives, I’ll tell you the surprise to save myself from stitches. The jet is getting gassed up as we speak. We’re taking a day trip to Denver to see the art museum there. It’s not the National Gallery of Art or even the Art Institute of Chicago. However, they have a lot more impressive art than the museum in Houston or here in Dallas. Once they close, we’ll grab an early dinner?—”

I close my eyes against the tears threatening to spill over. But I’m too late.

His lips are near my ear. Hot air washes over me, causing a shiver I can’t hide. “Why are you crying?”

“Because you keep making me.” I try to defend myself. My neck is weak, and my head falls to his chest.

Sighing, his arms go around me and hold me loosely. “You deserve every good thing in this life. Eventually, you won’t cry when something good happens.”

“Promise?” I mumble. I’m annoyed with myself for the tears. How is he going to want to kiss me if I’m crying? I might be in his arms, except it’s not the way I was hoping.

“I promise. Now, your Moka pot is filling and I do believe I hear Layla. You get some coffee. I’ll get Layla.” He lets me go and steps back.

“Okay, I’ll get dressed after I have coffee.”

“Dress warm. It will barely kiss forty degrees. I’ll be layering Layla.” Is said over his shoulder.

CHAPTER 20

Amy

I’m grateful for Hope coming today to keep me out of my head. Things have felt off from Matteo since Denver. The moment in the kitchen when heat shimmered between us thrilled me. I was certain he would make a move or…something during the trip.

We had the best day. On the plane there, we watched the first Star Wars movie, and I actually liked it a lot. Over the long four hours we spent in the museum, he was patient and had a smile on his face the whole time. Dinner was at a nearby noodle place where we laughed at Layla in heaven at all the noodles she got to eat. It felt like we were a family.

But by the time we were in the car on the way back to the plane, he began growing distant. Once we were in the air with a sleeping Layla secured in her car seat, I hoped I could draw him out again. Despite my telling him I wanted to watch another movie, he shook his head and demanded to know what art I liked the most that we saw that day.

We talked the whole way back—well, I talked and he listened. I kept trying to draw him out but the distance remained. The night ended with a smile and a nod of goodnight at my door.

I hoped it was him tired or something. At his family’s brunch yesterday, while he held my hand and kissed my cheek, the warmth behind his touch was gone. It was like we were roommates, and Layla was our only connection. I’m trying not to freak out, but it’s not easy.

Today, we’re making a chicken pot pie so she can teach me how to make a roux and pie crust. Both were a lot easier than I thought they would be.

We’re doing individual pot pies, so once again, she can take hers home to Javier, and I can take ours to Matteo. The moment they’re in the oven, she urges me to sit down and makes us a cup of tea.

Once she sits down with her tea, she sighs. “You keep saying you’re fine. But you are a horrible actress. Talk to me. I won’t tell anyone, not even Javier.”

I give Layla some more puff snacks. Finally, I give in. “I don’t know what I did. Matteo has gone kind of cool on me. I’m confused. We had the best time in Denver…and then—nothing.”

She sighs. “I did notice the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes yesterday. It also seemed like you weren’t happy either. Is that why you were…”

I nod. “I was hurt. But I didn’t feel like I had a right to be. I mean, I don’t understand what’s the matter with him. Maybe I did do something wrong.”

“I don’t know. The way he looked at you, it didn’t seem like you could do any wrong. Every time you weren’t looking at him, he was looking at you. Maybe it’s time to just talk to him. Communication is key, the good and the bad. As much as it feels like he can read your mind at times, they can’t always. And it’s not really fair to assume he can.” She’s gentle.

This is where lying sucks. I can’t admit to her the truth about this being a fake relationship. A part of me wishes I could tell her, and she would be able to give me advice on what to do.

“You’re right. I’ll talk to him.” Even though I won’t. I’m too afraid of him figuring out I’m in love with him. I couldn’t stand to hear Matteo let me down gently.

Her smile is one of relief.

The pot pie tastes better than anything I’ve ever had before.

“You are an amazing cook. Javier must really love you not to let you cook.” I sigh.

She laughs. “Yep, he admitted he’s looking forward to lunch today though.”

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