Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

A my

All my fire dies when I find Matteo on his hands and knees with Layla also on her hands and knees. What I thought was a dress is merely a top and Layla is wearing matching pants.

"Come on, Layla, you can do it. You can crawl. You're such a big girl. Give me a little crawl." Layla is chuckling at him as she rocks on her hands and knees.

"She won't do it. It's my fault. I didn't put her down enough because I was too afraid at home. We were pretty much stuck in the bedroom, with Danny hating to see her in the living room. The babysitter who watched her thought she would crawl before I left Danny. But then we were stuck in the gross motel, and I didn't want her on the floor—even on top of a blanket." I sigh.

He goes to his knees, his insanely hard and round ass on his heels. "Hey, it's okay. She has space here to learn and she will before long. Don't beat yourself up over it." Lifting her up into his arms, he gets close. "Your soup is on the stove. I'll get it for you. It should be nice and warm. Your sandwich is ready on the table."

Layla laughs as she cuddles into him. I fight the clench in my chest when she doesn't reach for me. How long have I been asleep? "It's okay. I can get my own soup."

"Yes, but you want to hold Layla. I was going to hold her so you could eat your sandwich with both hands. But you can start with the soup. You can eat one-handed without too much of a mess." He offers me Layla, who gives me the biggest smile as she wraps her arms around my neck.

Oh, my girl. I inhale her baby scent deep into my lungs. She cuddles into my neck. How embarrassing. I'm blinking back tears. I sway and don't realize it until a firm hand is at my back, holding me up.

Instantly, I flash to when he touched me in the clinic. I was sure it was the fever and some weird dream—a crazy shock of electricity running all the way to my fingertips and toes. What the hell is that? My eyes find his glinting gold down at me. Wait, does he feel it, too?

"Why don't you sit down? I'll get your soup." A corner of his mouth tips up. It flashes again. He has dimples in both cheeks. And I'm going crazy. Of course, he doesn't feel it.

Embarrassed, I nod and move toward the table. The poor guy. He's just being nice and—wait. "What the hell with all the clothes and the baby stuff?"

There's a baby swing, a baby activity center in the corner where she can jump and play with the four inset toys, a half dozen baby toys are scattered around the living room and all of it looks brand new. Seriously, what the hell is going on?

An eyebrow is up as he brings me a bowl of chicken noodle soup, setting it next to a plate with an enormous croissant turkey and cheese sandwich. "Why don't you have a seat, and we'll talk about it?"

Warily, I sit at the table. My wariness doesn't compute to Layla. She giggles and reaches for the man with two dimples and the kind of ass women swoon over. My stupid stomach doesn't help either when it growls. I give in at the same time I hand over my daughter—the traitor.

He takes her with a smile, cuddling her close. I'm not sure who I'm jealous of. I can't ignore my stomach a minute more and begin to eat the soup. Damn, this is good soup. I'm a little embarrassed at how quickly I eat. Especially considering my throat is still tight with every swallow.

They don't seem interested in me. They're occupied with a toy where she can twist a mirror, letters, and numbers he's trying to teach her.

The soup and the sandwich are good. I managed to eat almost half of both. Once I'm done, I open my mouth to ask him what's going on.

He speaks before I can. "I'm sorry. I forgot to get you something to drink. What sounds good? There's orange juice, apple juice, pomegranate juice, sweet tea?—"

"Does your mother do anything by halves?" I ask, in admiration and fear.

His laughter is bass and mellow and warms me more than the hot shower did. "Nope, it's a Castillo trait. Even though she married into the family, she's one of us through and through."

"Okay, I've had a shower. I'm dressed, and I've eaten. Can you please explain why you bought all this stuff?" I'm wary again and reach for Layla.

Handing her over, he nods. "I called the motel and spoke with the owner. In case he knew of any emergency contact. He told me there wasn't one. I was informed since you wouldn't be in to pay rent today or clean that your room would be rented. He would only hold your things for three days before disposing of it all."

I gasp at the heartlessness of the man. While I hadn't thought we were friends or anything, I thought he'd be a little more understanding. Although it's a few days past Christmas, isn't it still the Christmas season—supposedly filled with compassion?

"Don't worry. All your things are here in storage."

Embarrassed he saw my pitiful two suitcases and Layla's lack of toys. I cringe inside.

"I'm aware losing the job as the housekeeper there and a room seems like a bad thing. But I think in the end, it's better for you and me. I'm in desperate need of a housekeeper. I inherited my brother's cleaner. Since he moved out a while ago, she took on other clients and didn't really have room in her schedule for me. I'm a pity client because I hate having people in my space I don't know. She only cleans the bathroom, kitchen, and my bedroom. And I need more than just cleaning."

"It looked clean to me."

The eyebrow goes up again. "You didn't look closely then. My mother was not happy about your closet and bathroom. She brought her own housekeeper over this morning to clean your room and bathroom as well as Layla's. It's not just about keeping the place clean. I need a housekeeper. Of all the food in the refrigerator, only a half carton of eggs was there before my mother shopped."

His mom doing his shopping isn't a regular thing?

"Right now, I have an unhealthy dependence on a food delivery app and protein shakes. I'm looking forward to food in the fridge and meals a few days a week—not every day is necessary. Your salary would be fifty thousand a year, paid twice a month. It's only that low because it will be live-in. Since you and Layla don't have anywhere to live and I have the room. It seems like a waste for you not to live here."

My eyes bug out when he tells me the salary. That's low? Live-in? I can clean up after one person to earn that much. Except it doesn't feel like that's all there is to the clothes and toys. "What else is there? Because you didn't do all this for a housekeeper."

His dimples flash again. "You'd be surprised."

I shake my head. I'm not falling for those dimples—although it's not easy to ignore what they're doing to those butterflies.

Sighing, "I didn't even think of anyone helping me with this problem until my mom made an assumption about you and Layla. She thought I was hiding you as my girlfriend. So I figure, why not give her what she thinks you're doing here? I need your help to get her off my back by pretending to be my girlfriend."

"You big fat fucking liar." The words explode out of my mouth.

I startle Layla, him, and me. I have no idea where the words came from.

He double blinks. "I'm not lying."

"Yeah, no. You had me until you said you needed someone to pretend to be your girlfriend. Men who look as hot as you don't need a pretend girlfriend. Did too many people see you carry me out of the clinic, and it's too soon to sell me and Layla, or is it just Layla?"

He's laughing, not mad or stuttering, and interrupting me to argue.

I'm wondering if he's telling the truth after all. "Are you gay and need someone to beard for you? That I would buy."

Shaking his head, he smiles. "Thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself."

I blush so hard my head swims. He takes his phone out of his pocket, works it for a minute, and then offers it to me.

"Read through it. You can see clearly it says Mom. Yep, keep scrolling. They're all about women she wants to set me up with. I've been back in Dallas less than six months."

"Where were you living before then?" I'm curious how far his mom's reach went. Damn, he wasn't kidding. They start with a woman's name and her stats are given like she's up for sale or something. I lose count after a dozen in the last three months.

"Baltimore, Maryland."

"Holy crap, your mom does not give up." I'm impressed and very scared of this Bitsy person. I hand him back his phone. Not only do I believe him now, I feel bad for him.

He shrugs. "I knew it would probably get worse once I came back to Dallas, but I wasn't truly prepared for it. Now it's not just her. My sister-in-law is in on it. And she's confident she has a better pool of women I should meet."

The sun catches the silver in his thick, dark hair. "How old are you?"

"I turned thirty-nine earlier this year."

Huh, I see his age now in the deep lines on his face. Yet he also seems younger when he's smiling at me and Layla. "Why did you come back to Dallas?"

A large hand runs over his face. Suddenly, he's every one of his years and a dozen more. Those frown lines are deeper than the Grand Canyon and his golden eyes are a flat brown. I have no idea why I want to reach out and touch him in an effort to allay the pain in him.

"I lost a patient. It's something I should have gotten used to—considering my specialty. But I never did."

Good. I don't say it, though. "What was your specialty?"

"I was an oncologist. Which means I treated cancer patients, specifically a pediatric oncologist."

Horror runs through me at anyone becoming used to losing a child patient. I hold Layla tighter to me.

"I don't know what happened exactly. I… I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't know where to go. So, I came back to Dallas since my family is here. And I don't know…" he chuckles.

It's a sad chuckle, and my heart goes out to the large, beautiful man who seems incredibly lost. The need to touch him is so strong I flex my hands to keep from doing it.

"I've been saying I don't know a lot lately. Anyway, all I've heard was how many women my sister-in-law thought would be great for me. She had better friends than the women my mother is trying to shove down my throat." He shakes his head, frustration clear on his beautiful face.

It's clear he isn't lying. "It's just ridiculous someone like you would pick someone like me."

He frowns. "What?"

Uncomfortable now, I search for the right words. "I'm fat. I graduated from high school at nineteen and from a community college when I was twenty-five. Because I have dyslexia and am poor and couldn't afford many classes while I was waitressing."

I flinch from thinking of Danny, but I can't hide from it—him. "And I'm married. To a man who…"

"What did he do?"

"He was very abusive, and I… I don't want to think of him. I can't pretend to be your girlfriend when I'm married. It's wrong. And it's wrong to lie. Just be firm with your family."

His sigh is heavy. "You're right. I'll figure something else out. Will you at least agree to be my housekeeper? I'm tired of eating delivery and protein shakes." I want to say yes. He sees it. "Let me show you something."

I follow him into a huge pantry with a washer and dryer on one side and multiple shelves with food on the other. There have to be more than forty different protein shakes. They're stacked twelve to a small pallet. "You weren't kidding."

"I could show you my spend on takeout from the delivery app, except it's too embarrassing."

I notice there's a little area of the large pantry on the food side filled with baby food, formula, snacks, bottles, plates, and bowels—more than she could eat or use in weeks or even months. He cared about Layla.

His mom might have bought the things at his order, but he cared enough to order them. And I don't think I'll be able to forget the way he was on his hands and knees trying to get her to crawl. The way he was gentle as he cleaned her while laughing at her making a mess.

"So, what do you say? Will you save me from those protein shakes?" Both eyebrows are up.

Sighing, I give in. It's not like I really have many options. This place is a huge step up from the motel. Honesty compels me to warn him. "Okay. I'm not the best cook, though."

His smile of relief hits me in the tummy, causing it to tumble a dozen times in a second. "You couldn't be worse than me unless you burn the place down…"

Suddenly, his beautiful face goes tight. "I'm sorry. I should have given you more of a choice. You don't have anywhere to go. If you want to go to a shelter or even if you want to rent an apartment. The pay would be sixty-five thousand a year and I'm good to give you a month up front. My mother is another option. Since her home has seven bedrooms with only her there, there's plenty of room for you and Layla. And she loves Layla already."

The words come out of him, tortured and clipped. Hearing it and watching how he's having a hard time getting them out allows me not to burst into tears from fear he wants Layla and me out. Any other time, I would be twisting in agony that, once again, I wasn't wanted. Except the grip he has on Layla's little hand is tight.

Only I have to know for sure. "Do you want us to leave?"

He shakes his head fast. "No. But the right thing to do is give you all the options you deserve to have. I don't want you here because you feel it's your only choice."

Matteo, echoing my thoughts of only minutes ago, is why I'm staying…that's a lie. He is the reason why I'm staying. I feel safe with him. It started when I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me with concern at the clinic. Even though it's a dim, fuzzy memory, I knew he would help me, not hurt me.

His admission when I woke up this morning was raw with honesty. He wanted to take care of us the way he wished someone took care of him. His smile as he talked about Layla and now seeing him with her is another reason.

The way he didn't do anything but chuckle when she made a mess. The way he didn't flinch at the idea of bringing me here to take care of me. Or how, although his feelings were hurt by my fear of him—he didn't take offense or tell me that I shouldn't be afraid of him. Even with his offer of me leaving, he's giving me the room I need while making it clear he's here if I need him.

I would never go to a shelter. A waitress I worked with told me about a shelter after Danny gave me a black eye. She encouraged me to take my own pillows because her sister's daughter caught a bad case of lice while she was there. I don't want Layla in that environment.

An apartment should be appealing, except it's not. All alone in an apartment sounds scary. What if Danny finds us?

As awesome as his mother sounds, having her attention focused on me and Layla is as scary as being alone. What if I make a mess or drop something? While this condo screams money from how large and nice everything is, Matteo has made it clear he isn't bothered by the mess. That and here it's comfy and cozy to me. It feels safe here.

Matteo deserves to know. "I want to stay. Is it bad because I'm hiding behind you? Danny's family has connections. If they find me before I file for divorce, they and Danny could make my life hell. I do want a divorce as soon as I can afford it. But he…"

My stomach twists just saying the words. "He told me if I left him, he would file for full custody of Layla. But he doesn't want her. It's only to hurt me."

He exhales slowly. "I promise you, no matter what, he will never get close enough to hurt you and Layla ever again. As far as him getting custody, I won't let that happen. His family connections will never be better than my family's. Does that change your mind about staying with me?"

I believe him. This man would put himself between Danny and me and Layla. Except he didn't need to. He had the kind of money to build a wall between Danny and us. Yet, that's not the reason I shake my head. I don't want to leave here—him. I'm not sure why I feel so safe with him. Maybe it's the memory of him carrying me. Maybe I still have a fever. All I know is I'm not ready to leave this place or Matteo.

Something happens low in my tummy at the relief on his face. "Good. Now give me her so you can get back to bed." It's an order as he holds out his hands for Layla.

"I'm fine." I try to argue. Layla, the traitor, goes right to him.

He exhales what's almost a laugh. "Yeah, right. You look like you're about to fall over. Just a nap for an hour or two."

I'm ushered down the hall, right up to the door. I want to argue. Except I ruin it by yawning.

"Tell Momma, night night." He waves to me. Layla laughs as she waves.

Annoyed with them both, I close my door harder than I have to. He's bossy as hell. Then again, he probably has to be as a doctor. I yawn again as I climb back into bed. This is ridiculous. I'm not going to sleep for another hour or two again after all the hours I already slept.

I'm so grateful he didn't blink at my admission of hiding behind him. Behind his hard ass and his strong, broad chest— stop thinking that way . That will only lead to embarrassment because a man as gorgeous as he is doesn't want someone like me. No matter what he said.

It's too bad I couldn't bring myself to agree to pretend to be his girlfriend. That's as close as I would have gotten to being the girlfriend of a man like him. Pretending would be bad for me. I have a feeling he would make me want things I can't have.

As darkness takes me over, I sigh at what might have been.

Matteo

I'm holding Layla long after she's fallen asleep. Holding her is more for me than for her. Amy called me a liar. How she knew I was lying when she barely knew me shocked both of us.

It was fucking spooky. She told me she didn't believe me because I was hot. I smile at the way she said exactly what she thought of me. Only I knew it wasn't why. Her knowledge came from the same crazy connection telling me that she's mine.

In the left brain—the part that rules logic—every neuron is screaming to abort fucking mission. This is all insane. Except it's not even the right brain ruling right now. It's something I laughed at before I laid eyes on Amy. It's kismet, fate, all that stuff that exists in the ether somewhere not ruled by anything other than feeling. It can't be denied. It won't be denied.

She felt it, too. That's why she chose to stay with me when I offered her other options. Every word hurt to say, but it didn't feel right not to give her choices. After everything she's been through, Amy deserved the right to have a choice of what her safe space would be.

I was certain she would choose her own apartment. It didn't matter that I had no idea where the apartment would be. As I said it, I imagined her in a cozy two-bedroom nearby. I felt compelled to offer up my mother's home, as my mother had wanted to take her home. There was no doubt Mom would happily accept Amy and Layla staying with her.

The moment she said she wanted to stay, I wondered if I was only hearing what I wanted. It was the moment Layla laid her head on my shoulder all over again. Just like then, I wondered where the twisting came from in my chest.

The small, hopeful smile affirmed her choice. She might have said she was hiding behind me, but I'm aware that's not the only reason. The only question I have is, is she also aware?

A twinge of guilt hits me for lying to her when she clearly had a distaste for lies. Her ex had done more than hit her body. He hit her soul and her trust in men. Yet she felt the connection between us—the desire simmering beneath the surface. If she pretended to be my girlfriend, it would give us both the freedom to explore the desire.

Except she wasn't ready to even pretend. She needs time to heal, not simply from her illness but from what he put her through. I don't mind waiting. For her and Layla, I'll wait as long as she needs.

Then again, maybe she won't need an excuse. She looked sad when she said no.