Page 70 of Matteo

Hey, I’m not feeling great. Is it all right if I skip bringing your lunch today?

The time it takes for him to text back is agony.

Are you running a fever? Feeling achy? I can come home.

I don’t know what to type because I want him to come home. I need him here now. Before I figure out what to type, another text comes through.

I’m on my way.

Thank god, is all I can think.

I’ve cleaned up and put all my paints and canvas in my studio. Layla is lights out in her crib after a bottle heavy with oatmeal.

I hear the elevator and wonder if this is going to be really good or really bad.

CHAPTER 21

Matteo

The whole way home, I’m running through what could be wrong. She was fine when I left this morning. What if it’s the flu? I should have had her get a flu shot. Especially if she’s going to be walking through the clinic. This is all my fault. She’s not going to the clinic anymore. Damn it. I hope like hell Layla doesn’t catch it.

I open the door to find Amy sitting on the couch. Her arms are crossed as she stares at the television that isn’t on.

“Amy, are you all right?”

Chocolate meets mine. “You lied to me.”

Fuck. There’s only one thing I’ve ever lied to her about. How she suddenly knows when she didn’t before I left this morning is the only question I have. I’m done lying.

I nod.

“You love me.” The words are a whisper.

“Yes.” Denying her words would only be another lie. Although I wish like hell I could tell if she was happy, sad, or—something.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Once I made you fall in love with me,” I admit.

I make it to the sofa and sit down on the edge. I’m relieved when I take her hand, and she doesn’t fight me. Except her eyes won’t meet mine.

I’m dying here. She hasn’t said a word. “Amy?”

Her eyes come back to me. “What?”

“Are you mad or…”

She shakes her head. “I’m just worried about your skills of detection. Because I think I loved you since the moment you pulled up the chair beside my bed to watch television with me.”

It’s Layla calling me ‘dada’ all over again—Amy loves me. I want to hear it a thousand more times until she’s hoarse from saying it. “You love me?”

Her smile is everything. “Yes, I love you, Matteo Castillo?—”

I catch her around the back of her neck and pull her into my arms. She laughs and throws her arms around me as I settle her on my lap. “Say it again.”

“I love you. If you were a little more open, I might have said it the day I woke up on top of you. The reason I called Denise was to find out if you really bought her a car.”

My joy dies a little. “You thought I lied about the car?”

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