Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

M atteo

Amy giggles. "Your mom played you like a violin." Tearing off the paper, it's a wooden chest. Carved into the top of the chest: Matteo and Amy's Adventures

My heart pounds so loud I wonder if she can hear it. Our names together—like we're a couple. I watch as she traces over the inscription. Does she know or understand what it means?

"I'm officially in love with your mom." Her eyes are glowing. Opening the top drawer, she finds a card on top. With a big smile, she reads it: "Keep your hands busy." Ooh, knitting needles and a bunch of crochet needles. What pretty yarn."

I exhale in relief. "I told her I asked you what you liked to do so I could get gift ideas for you. She must have thought we both needed to find new hobbies."

She pulls out two boxes. One is a car, and the other is an intricate castle. "Model building. Yeah, these are for you. I'm not interested in building models. Jigsaw puzzles, ooh, pretty scenes. Pottery class, this is for both of us. This would be so much fun. I've always wanted to try this. Can we please go?"

Her eyes are wide in pleading. Fuck me. If she ever finds out what her saying please does to my cock, I'm screwed all to hell. Pottery class doesn't interest me, making her happy does.

I nod and hope like hell it isn't as bad as I always thought it would be.

"Yay, thank you. Okay, next drawer. Holy crap, do you know how much this camera costs? And this is put in here as something you or I might be interested in. Rich, rich."

She shakes her head. "For the record, I would love to use this. Please? To take pictures of things I could maybe paint."

"It's yours." I look in the drawer. "A folding fishing rod and reel? Nope, not interested in that either. A cooking class? This sounds like fun."

She takes the card from me. "This is cool. We can pick what to make. It's just us, so we don't have a group of people. And it ends with us eating it as a night or afternoon out. I like that. Can we do it?"

"Sure. You tell me when, and we'll do it." Her sheer happiness is making my cock hard. She's so beautiful I could simply stare at her for hours.

Opening the next drawer, her eyes go big. She chuckles. "Get moving. Twelve yoga classes, private again. I could do this. I took a few classes with my roommate and liked it. But I always worried about being fat in front of other people."

"Hey, don't say that. Please." I work to keep my voice even. "We talked about it."

Her face falls. "I'm sorry. I…I don't like thinking of myself like that. It's just what I've heard for so many years." She shrugs sadly. "I'll try."

Catching her chin, I bring her face up to mine. "I'm sorry. Internalizing the outside is common. It's not easy to ignore if you hear it from the media and people around you treating you differently or calling you that. But it's bullshit. You're a beautiful woman. Whether you're a size eighteen, bigger or smaller. I don't like hearing anyone, including you, put you down in any way. Okay?"

She nods as she blinks back tears. "Thank you."

"I don't deserve any thanks, but you're welcome." All I want is to take her into my arms, to show her I find her absolutely stunning. Except she's not ready for it, so I let her go.

Layla squeals for attention. "Hey, sweetie, I think someone is tired and needs a nap."

"Okay, but not yet. We have to finish finding out what is in here." She turns back to the chest.

"Some golf balls." I shrug. "I could get out on the green with my brothers. They don't hate it. I've only ever gone to a miniature golf course a few times when I was a teenager with my brothers."

"A calligraphy book and different types of nibs. These are cool quill pens. Hmm, scrapbook making stuff, no thank you. Dance classes—this is so cool. Matteo, we have to do this. Pretty please. It's also private, just you and me learning to dance. I've always wanted to do something like this."

Holy shit, my cock jumps at the idea of holding her close in a dance class. I should be saying no for that reason alone. Instead, I'm nodding. I think I'm mouthing the right words. I'm not sure because my brain seems to have short-circuited.

Amy yawns so wide she almost falls back. Damn it, I'm not taking care of her. My cock goes limp at what might have happened if she fell into the tree. She barely caught herself.

"Come on, you both need a nap."

Pouting, she gets up slowly. "I already took a nap. And it wasn't a short one."

"Okay, you don't have to take a nap. Why don't you grab your sketchbook and spend some more time in bed?" I cajole her. I'm certain she needs more time doing nothing more stressful than switching positions for her nap.

"I will if you let me draw you." I'm getting lost in her melting chocolate eyes.

"I'd love to." She doesn't have to ask twice for me to be close to her.

It takes almost twenty minutes to change Layla out of her banana-covered dress and into a new diaper. She needs a bottle. I fix this one with a little oatmeal cereal, hoping it will help her sleep longer. I'm impressed by how quickly she finishes her bottle. I wonder if I made the hole in the nipple too large to allow for the thickening of it with oatmeal. After a burp that startles us both, she's out like a light.

I'm working to keep my cock down as I go into Amy's room, only to find she's also asleep. She's adorable with her sketchbook clutched to her chest and a smile on her face.

Sighing, I gently take the sketchbook from her and set it and the pencils on the bedside table. Then I cover her with the throw blanket. Turning out the light, I make sure the door is left open a little.

Like a fucking pervert, I fast walk my ass into my bedroom to jack off—for the third time today.

Christ. I haven't needed to do this in forever. Sex was something I viewed as necessary. At the same time, I didn't need it often. Once or twice a month was enough for me. Would I have liked it more? Some weeks, yes, but most weeks, no. My low libido seemed about right, considering how depressing my work was.

If I needed sex, my only requirements were the woman understood it wouldn't lead to a relationship, she didn't work on my floor, and she wasn't married.

My longest relationship was with a nurse in cardiology. We were on and off for almost four years. It ended when she became a travel nurse.

For the most part, I had no-strings relationships lasting around a year. The moment they wanted to get serious, I ended things. It was just sex I wanted from them.

With Amy, it isn't just sex I want. I want every day and night until I take my final breath. I brace a hand against the cool wall of marble. Remembering her in my arms, she fit me just right. The smell of her skin drove me to distraction. I wanted so badly to taste her, to discover what made her moan, whimper, and plead for more.

The way she melted into me in her sleep—my cock jerks in my hand. Soft and delicate, her curves had my cock raging for her. Thank fuck she was asleep because there was no way I could have hidden how badly I wanted her.

Shit, it takes minutes before I'm coming hard. This is the most embarrassing part of it all. I could fuck for hours. It was important to me my partner was always satisfied—and I needed to ensure the woman was positively soaking wet in order to take my cock. Yet the mere thought of Amy has me coming in minutes.

Out of the shower, I throw on clean clothes that are basically the same thing I was wearing—hoping like hell she won't realize I changed if she wakes up again.

Back in the formal living room, I shake my head at the amount of discarded wrapping paper. My mom and the twins outdid themselves. I'd worried the twins would spill to Rafe and Carrie about Amy and Layla. They promised they wouldn't. Even though I know it's wrong to ask them to keep any secret from their parents, they knew how wary Rafe was of anyone new to the family. His protective streak would have Amy on edge far more than my mother ever could.

Once I'm done cleaning everything, I study the wooden chest. Running my hand over mine and Amy's name in the wood. I'm not sure why it feels so momentous to see our names together—as a couple.

I take the chest into Amy's studio. It fits on one of the shelves of the bookshelf. Remembering Amy's interest, I grab a jigsaw puzzle of one of Monet's paintings. This might be fun.

Amy

I wake up cranky because I fell asleep. Rolling over, I snuggle into the throw Matteo covered me with. I sigh deeply as I remember opening all the presents. Not only were there things for painting and sketching, but beautiful things for my hair, tote bags, and two beautiful designer handbags that cost more than I've made so far in my life.

As much as I loved the handbags, it's the amazing studio that gives me goosebumps. Matteo told her he wanted to give it to me. Yet he was listening when I told him that I wanted to get more comfortable with art by just getting a sketchbook and pencils first. He couldn't have known it was about me being overwhelmed by the idea of creating art again after not doing any for so long.

Danny had shaken his head when he saw me with my sketchbook. He laughed and agreed when I shrugged once, saying I knew it wasn't as though I'd ever be an artist. After he laughed, I never again pulled out my sketchbook when he was around. Gradually, I stopped opening it altogether.

Yet Matteo encouraged me to draw and paint. He didn't give me effusive encouragement, telling me that I could be a successful artist. There is only support for me to do something I love.

A wail of pain gets me out of bed so quickly that I almost fall. I'm in Layla's room fast. Matteo is right behind me. Layla's little face is mottled in red as she chews on her hand. She's in my arms. I turn to find Matteo in her bathroom closet and returning with baby Orajel.

Uncapping it, he's at my side. "I know, sweetie. That tooth is finally breaking through, isn't it?" He squeezes a pea-sized amount onto a finger. "Please open for me. It will help, I promise."

Layla is fighting him, not wanting to open her mouth. Firmly, one hand grips her chin, and the other pries her mouth open enough where he can coat her bottom gums with it. She wails and tries to spit it out.

I rock her. "It tastes awful, but it will help. Just give it a minute, sweetie."

Matteo watches, his face miserable as she glares at him with betrayed eyes. "I'm sorry, baby girl. Please stop looking at me like that. I'll give you all the noodles you want."

Running a hand down her back to try and soothe her, I shake my head. "Don't go promising her things while you're suffering now. She'll play you so hard. It does suck when she's crying, though. God, it just kills me to hear her sobbing."

"Yes, especially when she's normally such a happy baby." He runs a hand through his hair.

Finally, her little sobs subside. We watch as her head comes up from my shoulder. She's rubbing her gums together, clearly trying to figure out where the pain went. When she gives us a hesitant smile, we both sigh at the same time. Our eyes meet, and I smile. "Thanks, she can't say it, so I will."

He shakes his head. "I'm just glad I thought to add it to the list. I was kind of surprised she didn't already have at least two teeth already."

"Is it bad she didn't have teeth until now?" I worried about it for weeks in the motel.

"No, not necessarily. Remember, not all babies meet milestones at the same time. Although, I would like to take her and do a workup on her to ensure there isn't anything hiding. She seems so small for her age." His eyes run over her with concern.

Relief fills me. "I'd really like that."

The smoke alarm goes off.

"Crap," Matteo disappears.

I follow him to find a plume of black smoke coming out of his beloved toaster oven. He unplugs it, turns on the vent hood to pull smoke out of the kitchen, and using oven mitts, takes it off the counter.

"Can you get the French doors to the rooftop, please?" He asks.

The black phone beside the French doors begins to ring. He sets the toaster oven on the counter. "Hello? Yes, sorry. It's a cooking fiasco. Everything is fine. Thanks for checking."

"Who was that? Oh wow. How could you not tell me this was out here? How many floors high are we up?" A gust of cold wind hits me, sending me back inside with Layla.

Matteo laughs. "That's why, and the phone is for the front desk. We're on the fifth floor." He's only a few feet behind me. Using a towel, he waves it in front of the smoke alarm. It finally stops going off. "I'm sorry, sweetie. That was loud, huh?"

Layla nods and reaches for him. I let her go, and he cuddles her close. "Okay, the bad alarm is done."

"Front desk?"

"Yes, now your question about how many floors up reminds me. You were completely out of it when I brought you here. We're on the fifth floor, without a floor above us. Let me take you on a tour of the place." He gestures to the door.

I look down at the leggings and shirt I'm wearing. "Um…"

"You can throw on some shoes. Don't worry about changing. We aren't leaving the building." He reassures me.

I run back to my room and grab the comfy-looking leather flip-flops. Matteo is waiting with Layla. He opens the door of the condo, and we're in another entryway.

"Damn, I almost forgot the keycard. I'll be right back."

He holds up a gold card. "I'm going to ensure the desk gives me another one of these for you."

The elevator opens, and we get on. Layla looks around and clings to him when it goes down.

"It's okay. You remember this, don't you?" Her wide eyes say she doesn't.

"You don't need your keycard to go downstairs, but it only goes to the ground floor. No other floors can be selected without scanning your keycard. But if you want the elevator to open to the parking garage, scan your keycard and press the ground floor button. It will open at the back of the elevator directly into the garage."

"That's neat."

When the elevator opens, we go down a long hallway to doors marked exit.

He opens the door, but we don't go outside. There is a pool, fire pit, barbeque, and a green space larger than the closest city park. "The pool is heated if you're brave enough to try it. Do you see the green space past the pool? It's for residents to do what they want with their small plots. However, none of the owners have chosen to do anything with it. No one even has a dog to walk on the grass. So, if there are days when Layla is driving you crazy, and you need to get outside, you can come out here."

Scanning the card against a pad, I hear a lock release, and he opens the door.

"This is the mail room. Packages can be left at the desk if you let them know to tell the carriers, and they can sign for them. But there's an option for privacy. You could pop out of the elevators to get your mail without running into the people at the front desk."

It's a large room for so few boxes. "That's it for a five-story building?"

"Yep, my brother bought this building and spent almost a year overseeing the rehab of it. He kept it small, only two condos per floor."

He opens the door to a twenty-person theater with a projection screen. It's like an actual movie theater but nicer, with large recliners.

"We can use this anytime. Just tell the front desk to reserve it." We cross the hallway. "The same with the owner's lounge. This will hold a hundred people." Only a few more feet down the hallway brings us into a huge lobby like something out of a fancy hotel. "Speaking of the front desk. Jeanie, hi, this is Amy. She's moved in. And this is Layla."

"Hi, Layla. Ma'am."

"Amy, please." I'm not sure why I'm embarrassed.

"Jeannie, could you please get us another card made for Amy? We're finishing up the tour of the place."

"Yes, sir. I'll have it ready."

He opens the door to a large gym for such a small number of people. "This has a sauna and a jacuzzi. There's also a jacuzzi upstairs on the roof, so you don't have to worry about coming down here. I forgot to mention the desk is open twenty-four hours a day."

We're back at the front desk. Jeannie offers a keycard to Matteo. He thanks her and guides me back to the elevator.

"You can press the button for the elevator, and it will open. However, as you can see, none of the buttons will light up to get it moving until you scan your card."

"Wow, rich, rich." I murmur.

His chuckle slides up my spine. "Yes."

Somehow, it doesn't make me as tense as the last time he confirmed it. That wealth shields me from Danny and gave Layla and me a Christmas unlike anything I've ever experienced.

Dinner is the stuffed peppers, which we both feel could have more spice. After dinner, we're all yawning, and Layla gets another dose of Orajel on her gums as she tries to chew the frozen baby washcloth Matteo made for her in two.

"Go on, put her to bed. I'll clean up in here." Matteo is firm.

He's gone long before I'm done putting Layla to bed.

In my own bed, I marvel at how lucky I am. I was certain getting sick was the worst thing that could happen to me. Instead, it was the best thing ever. Because Matteo was the doctor who saw me. It's funny how life has a way of giving not what you want but what you need.