Page 9 of Matteo

Nodding, she straightens and takes a step away from the chair. She would have gone down in a heap if I weren’t as close as I am. I don’t let it happen.

Catching her to me, I lift her in my arms. And my world comes crashing down around me. It’s a thousand plates, a million glasses, all shattering around me at once. The sound is so loud and real to me that I run my eyes over the ground, wondering if I’ll step on something.

I blink again to confirm there’s nothing broken around me. My heart is pounding too fast, heat rushes over me, and my palms feel sweaty. I don’t understand. What the hell was that?

“Doctor?” Is a croak from Amy.

Words are too hard to string together. My chest is heaving as it works to get air into my tight lungs.

Her eyes are wide in surprise. Blinking a few times, she sighs. I see her hand moving, yet the touch of her small hand to my cheek shocks me. She runs her hand down my cheek. Closing her eyes, she sighs. Then snuggles into me and promptly goes back to sleep.

I’m not a man who cuddles—ever. Yet the way she snuggles into me has that damn tug thing happening in my chest again. It isn’t only the weird sensation in my chest. My skin is hot and tight. I want to hold her closer until there is nothing separating us—until I can inhale her into not only my lungs but beneath my skin. Nothing in this world has ever felt more right than holding her.

I shake my head as I try desperately to understand what is happening. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and exhale slowly as it all becomes clear. This woman is mine. It doesn’t matter that it makes no fucking sense.

I’m a doctor. A man of logic. Twelve years of education at the best universities in the country combined with another fourteen years of continued education and reading research. I don’t have faith in…anything.

I don’t believe in what I can’t see and touch. While there have been things that I wouldn’t believe were possible. I believed in them because they happened. The why doesn’t always have to be explained.

Looking into Amy’s eyes, I was lost in her. In touching her, holding her in my arms, every cell in my body recognizes her as mine. The woman who I will care for until I take my last breath.

It didn’t matter that I don’t believe in destiny or fate. Those things didn’t need me to believe in them to exist. The date on the first receipt for her checking into the motel was the day I purchased this building—when I finally felt like I was where I should be.

I was meant to be here when she needed me. For the first time since my patient died, I feel again—for Amy. The how or why of us coming together doesn’t matter. It simply is.

A little sigh comes out of her that reminds me so much of Layla—shit.

Once I have Amy in the car, an odd relief comes over me hearing her soft snoring and Layla babbling behind me. It feels like it could be any day driving my family home.

Family? Home…the word feels different from when my mother declared me home—from even an hour ago. Now home means Amy and Layla.

My head is spinning on the fifteen-minute drive. The building is in Deep Ellum, an area of downtown Dallas known for its hip, almost bohemian vibe—a vibe completely at odds with the slick, monied veneer most of Dallas wore.

Javier’s condo, where I’m still living, takes up the whole top floor. I appreciate the quiet of the place. There are only three other floors of condos and only two per floor. It’s peaceful for a place in the middle of the city.

Pulling into the garage I park as close to the elevator as I can. I look down to see Amy blissfully asleep and decide to take Layla upstairs first.

When I open the door to her, Layla gives me a smile and her little arms go out for me to lift her up. Her smile has my heart expanding until I wonder if it will burst out of my chest. She cuddles into me just like her mama, burying her face in my neck. Damn, there’s that twisting in my chest.

I tell her everything that’s going to happen, how I’m taking her upstairs, then I’ll come downstairs to get her momma. Once I have Momma settled into bed, I’ll get her a bottle. When the elevator moves, she startles and clings tighter, yet she doesn’t cry.

“Mama.” She nods.

“Yes, I’m going to get Momma. Once, I have you in your crib where you can’t escape. Then I’ll make you a bottle.”

“Baba. Baba.” The words are adamant.

She might be small in terms of growth, but her ability to speak so clearly and with understanding places her months ahead in her development. “Yes, I’ll get you a baba.”

Once the elevator doors open into the foyer, I have to unlock a door into the condo.

“We’re home.”

A little eyebrow goes up at the statement. She looks around curiously as I close the door behind me. Her sigh is small as she lays her head on my shoulder. The trust she has in me humbles me. That trust sends me into my office.

I scan the resumes I tucked into the corner in case the people I hired didn’t work out. They were all sent to me through a healthcare staffing company that already screened them as having good references and passing drug tests. I find the resume I want.

It’s for a physician assistant, Sasha Herndon. She answers with surprise clear in her voice. Her happiness with the pay isn’t something she hides.

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