Page 45 of Matteo

I had a baby. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman. Only I often didn’t feel it, even less so as Matteo took care of me and Layla.

It wasn’t that Matteo turned me into a woman. It’s that he tore away the myth I believed in—I had to achieve a milestone or pass some test society set for me. Only then would I get my badge of womanhood.

Except it wasn’t true. I wasn’t a girl, weak and without any control over my life. I was always a woman with the power to effect change. It didn’t get any more powerful than taking control of my life and leaving the group home before I had to, going to school and making my own money, or making a home with my roommate.

For fucks sake, I was the mother of the most amazing baby girl who was already talking at only nine months old. I’d earned the badge of a woman. I didn’t need anyone to give it to me.

Matteo tore away my own self-doubting fears. Just because my lack of self-esteem didn’t let me see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. I stared the unknown down of what Matteo would do to me, prepared for the worst-case scenario and had the resolve to do it. Because I had to know if we were really safe with him.

It didn’t matter that the aftermath was me a sobbing wreck. While this time it was Matteo who put me back together. I’ve been the one to do it before and if I have to, I can do it again.

CHAPTER 14

Amy

My alarm goes off too early. Why is my alarm going off? Oh yeah, I have to make breakfast and pack a lunch for Matteo. I’m up and out of bed with a bounce to my step.

Is it weird that I’m looking forward to cooking for Matteo—not just cooking for him but also cleaning for him?

Is someone going to come and take my feminism card? It isn’t about cooking and cleaning for him. I want to take care of him to repay him for the way he has taken care of me and Layla. It isn’t fair for Matteo to always take. It’s my turn to give back to him.

I understand now what the homemaker title means. I want to make a place where he didn’t just sleep and eat. Somewhere, he looked forward to coming home to every night. Because he wanted to, not because he had to. The way he admitted he was never here made it clear he didn’t really consider this big, beautiful condo his home.

Maybe it’s because it’s his brother’s. He’s only staying here until he finds something else. Except he didn’t seem to be in any rush to find somewhere else to live.

With the kind of money he has, he could have bought something or even rented ninety percent of what’s on the market within a week or two. Yet he’s been in the condo for almost six months.

Yesterday, after I showered and got dressed again, I found Matteo had cleaned everything and was playing with a happy Layla. His smile told me all was well, and I believed him. He handed me Layla and went to get cleaned up himself.

The rest of the day passed easily, with us playing with Layla, watching television, and working on a new jigsaw puzzle together. It was the kind of day some might call mundane—maybe even boring. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve never wanted anything more than a simple, quiet life. Yesterday was perfect to me.

I don’t hear anything from Matteo’s room as I go into the kitchen. Is he in the shower? The thought kicks over a hive of bees I didn’t know were in my tummy—the butterflies are gone—replaced by frantic, buzzing bees at the idea of Matteo naked with water running down his body.

Stop thinking like that. Don’t wish for things you can’t have, and put more on Matteo than he can give.

Forcing the thoughts down, I try to figure out what to do for breakfast. He mentioned he liked the ease of breakfast burritos. In Texas, they’re called breakfast tacos. When I told him, he laughed and said he’d been told that every single time he made the mistake of calling them burritos.

Whatever you call them, tacos are one of my favorite and easiest breakfast dishes. We have everything for good tacos: eggs, potatoes, bacon, and cheese.

I decide to go with a croissant sandwich for his lunch and carrots with a Greek yogurt dip. For his afternoon snack, I give him goat cheese and some of the soft, yummy bread. There aren’t many containers to pack everything in. I don’t think anything as prosaic as Tupperware would dare appear in the cupboards. I add a glass storage set to the list, along with two different lunch boxes, because this cooler thing is pretty small.

His lunch is packed, and breakfast is ready when Matteo appears. God, he is so freaking hot it’s not fair. Those bees are back and have escaped my tummy, leaving hot, sticky honey in their wake. They buzz frantically at my fingertips, longing to touch him.

My mouth goes dry then wet. He could be a freaking model or something. His dove gray suit fits him like a glove. A light blue shirt and a striped vest with a silver tie tucked into the vest barely contain the muscle rippling beneath the silk.

Simple bar cufflinks glint in the light. Those aren’t sterling silver—I have no doubt they are solid silver. In all the ways he attempts to downplay his wealth, it screams money in a way none of the flashy stuff did.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Light brown runs over me in concern.

The concern causes the bees to disappear in a blink of an eye. Matteo is simply being nice. He’s a doctor worried about a patient he brought home. Stop it before you embarrass yourself and him.

“I’m good. I have breakfast ready for you. You need to write down all your favorite things to eat so I can plan better.”

He nods. “I’ll do it today.” A large, slick, black phone is handed to me. “This is your phone. I apologize. I meant to give it to you yesterday. I’ve loaded all the apps for shopping and delivery. They’re connected to my credit card for you to buy whatever you need.”

Despite the order I gave myself only minutes ago, Matteo mere inches from me at my side, is causing havoc inside me. I inhale his cologne, and it sends thick honey through my veins. I’m trying to focus on what he’s showing me on the phone, but it’s not easy. I don’t see what he’s doing on the phone. All I can think of is his hands on me, his fingers?—

“Sherry was the housekeeper. She’s coming by in an hour or so to give you the lay of the land, so to speak.”

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