Page 68 of Matteo

Ashamed that I can’t meet his eyes. “Please.”

He catches me around the back of my neck. It shocks me. I’m not afraid of the touch. It’s the way every cell in my body activates in preparedness for more of his touch.

Brown turns to gold. His teeth come out to catch his bottom lip. Bringing me to within inches, I pray I’m not panting the way I think I am. Is this it? Will he finally kiss me? “You understand everything I do is for you, right? To make you happy.”

Oh god, how embarrassing. I’m drooling at the way heat is hitting me everywhere. I can only nod. Any second…

“Good.” He lets me go, and I go cold.

“Dada,” Layla is patting his chest.

“What, baby girl?”

She opens her mouth and leans into him.

“Ah, you want to give me kisses?” He leans down for her to reach him. “Thank you.”

After she gives him kisses, she sticks her fingers in her mouth and chews on them.

“She’s ready for her bottle.” I rush to cover my rioting body.

The water I boiled for her bottle is now only warm. I add the formula and shake it. She opens her small hand for it. Chuckling, I hand it to her. She takes it and cuddles into Matteo.

“I’m sorry. I’d take her, but I don’t think she’d come to me. I didn’t think it would be a big deal for her to wake up to you gone. She asked for you when she woke up. I told her you were at work; she seemed down. By the time breakfast was over, she was fine.” Her eyes are on him even as she’s falling asleep.

“Well, I’m a bad dad because I love it. I didn’t expect it to be an issue either. As soon as you leave, I’m going to get on the phone and hire another, at least, PA, if not a doctor. I thought I had enough people, but with one person out of town on vacation and another sick with strep—it appears I was wrong. At least their vacation is over come Monday. Once we’re back to fully staffed, it will open more appointments to see patients and establish care. Which is better for patients. Being seen regularly will allow us to get in front of issues, cutting down on emergencies.”

“I was wondering if seeing patients today would make you want to go back to the floor instead of focusing on paperwork.” I share the fear I had when he got the call from Cleo last night when a PA went home sick.

His chuckle is low as he runs a large hand over Layla’s head. “I wondered the same thing. If anything, it confirmed I made the right choice. I don’t regret my time as a doctor—not even my specialty. At the same time, it’s something that can consume you if you let it. I don’t want to be consumed by it anymore. There is no better time in my day than seeing Layla first thing in the morning, and she’s excited to see me. Coming home…”

I look up to find his eyes on me. Gold.

“Actually, coming home might be the best thing.” He murmurs low.

Am I moving, or is he? His tongue slides out over his lips?—

A knock on the closed door startles us both. “Doctor? I was hoping to take my lunch.”

“Shit.” Matteo looks at the clock. “Sorry, two minutes.” He calls out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even look at the clock.” I’m up covering the food. “I’m going to leave this here. Please eat your soup. Go on. I’ll clean this up.”

Nodding, he grabs his white coat and stethoscope. Before I look up again, he’s closing the door behind him.

Amy

I’m thrown by a knock on the door less than an hour after Matteo leaves for work on Monday. Hope called earlier today to tell me she wasn’t feeling well, and we decided to skip cooking lessons for the week.

I set down my palette on the dining table, hoping I don’t get oil paint on it. I’ve worked more in front of the French doors to the rooftop deck than in my studio. It was easier to bring my things in here to keep an eye on Layla in her playpen or activity center than to drag her things in and out of my studio.

All I want to do is hide the painting I’m working on. Except it’s too freaking big to move while it’s this wet. It’s a three-foot by four-foot canvas. The man in my favorite art supply store gave me a discount because the original buyer never came to pick it up. I’d wanted to try a larger canvas but was too worried it would seem egotistical that I thought I had art good enough to use this much space.

Removing the apron I’m wearing to prevent paint from splattering on my dress. I make my way to the door.

Layla is content in her activity center, bouncing as high as it will allow while she chews on her favorite toy.

I’m shocked to find Rafe. His serious expression sends my stomach twisting. “Is Matteo all right?”

---