Page 19 of My Daddy Is An Ex-Con

Breakfast isn’t usually this entertaining.

Most times at Nonna’s, I eat as quickly as possible so I can get away from my loud-mouthed brothers.

Today is different.

Watching Mattie sample Italian fare is a spiritual experience.

He lifts hiscornettoto his lips, then smears pistachio cream—which is sort of like almond butter, but sweet—on it.

When he eats his eggs, he treats them like they’re the fluffiest eggs in the world.

Hell—the way he sips his cappuccino is even adorable.

I’ve taken many male models out to eat—this happened before I went to prison.

I’ve traveled the world.

Never in my life has a dumb, giddy feeling of enjoyment washed over me when I watched someone eat their breakfast.

When we finish, I lead Mattie to the backyard. "Come on, boy. Let’s pick some olives."

Mattie gulps as he rubs his lips. "I need a minute."

I turn to face him—and forget how to breathe. Christ.Christ.

His blue eyes flicker in the radiant morning sunlight.

His nose, that pointy thing, recalls the finest moments of Renaissance sculpture.

Even his pink, plush lips unleash novel sensations in the deepest recesses of my soul.

Mattie isbeautiful.Fucking hell.

I knew he was an angel when I saw him in the coffee shop, but here in my homeland?

The tranquil air and mollifying sun blow away his worries.

Mattie can be himself here.

I wrap my left arm around his petite shoulder. "Tell me why."

"I ate too much." Mattie lances me with a glare. "That should be obvious."

I shouldn’t do it. Ireallyshouldn’t. At this moment, the temptation is too great to withstand.

I rub his belly with my right hand. "You’ve got a food baby."

Mattie tears away from me. "Iknowyou didn’t do that."

"Don’t deny it." A smirk plays a fiddle on my lips.

His eyes turn to slits. "I’m already feeling stuffed. Your hand on my stomach isn’t helping things."

I tilt his jaw up. "When we speak, it’stummy—notstomach.You’re Little, Mattie. The entire point of this trip is to help you dispense with the stress of your kidnapping. And be your true self. You can’t beLittle Mattieif you’re calling your tummy your stomach."

Mattie lifts up his shirt. "It's too full to be atummyright now—it’s a big stomach. Not cute in the least."

I drive my thumb into his chin. "Never say that around me."

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