Give Me a Chance (BYC #2)

34. Matt

34

MATT

T he list thing is going way better than I expected. So far, we’ve done yoga, hung out with Eric, and even went to the movies and grabbed dinner like a regular couple.

Today, we’re going skating. Natalie never skated before, so I have the privilege, and the responsibility, to teach her.

“Excited?” I ask as I lace up her skates.

“Terrified.” She bites into her bottom lip, and I have to remind myself we’re here to skate.

“Come, I have you.”

“I know, but I don’t like being bad at something.” I let out a snort.

“This will be good for me—to see your flaws.” I shrug, and she slaps me on the shoulder.

“Don’t get used to it.”

She’s really bad at skating, but that doesn’t help my infatuation one bit. Instead, she looks adorable, trying to stay upright while refusing to let go on the ice.

“I should’ve never put this on the list. I look like an idiot.” She groans.

“You look,” I eye her up and down, “incredible.” She does. In a loose sweater and tight yoga pants, she’s as gorgeous as she was in a gown on gala night. Which reminds me.

“I never asked you,” I continue, “how come you drank so much at the gala? Since you generally don’t.”

A blush creeps up her cheeks. “It is possible,” she looks down at her hands, “I was jealous.”

“Of me? Wow, that’s an ego boost.” She slaps my shoulder again, but I’m smiling from ear to ear.

Her hand is small and soft in mine as we glide cautiously across the ice. Every time she stumbles, I catch her before she hits the ground. Her lips turn up when she catches the rhythm, but as soon as her bodyweight shifts, she loses balance, and I’m right back to saving her.

“Can we go now?” she asks after a pretty nasty stumble that almost ended with both of us face down on the ice.

“What could we possibly do that could be more fun than this?” I ask, doing a dramatic figure skating spin.

“I can think of a thing or two,” she says, eyeing me hungrily, and welp, I guess it’s time to go.

“Uhmm ...So, I kind of have a family thing this weekend.” Natalie tells me while we eat our lunch in the office breakroom.

Today, I made us chicken pesto wraps, a recipe Connor gave me. My cooking skills are progressing greatly. Turns out, I just needed someone to cook for to really get things going.

“Oh, no problem. I’ll do some things around the house.” We’ve been spending a ton of time together these past few weeks, but I try not to push her.

“I was thinking...” She bites her bottom lip. “Maybe you’d like to come with.”

“Really?” I want to play it cool, but my guess is I look like a dog waiting for a treat.

“Yeah, really.” She blushes, and I’m done. I pull her soft lips to mine, my hand finding its way into her hair. The kiss quickly turns work inappropriate, but just as she lets out a whimper that shoots straight to my dick, the break room door opens.

“Sorry,” Anne says, her face turning beet red.

“No, we’re sorry. Things kind of got out of hand,” I apologize, not proud to make my coworkers uncomfortable.

Things have been getting out of hand often lately. Last week, Natalie gave me a blowjob in the elevator, and I ate her out in the bar restroom (a different bar this time).

“It’s fine. It’s nice to see you two happy.” She shoots us an honest grin, a glint in her eyes. She and Bryce, though not serious yet, have been hanging out, and she seems really into him.

“Maybe soon we’ll double date.” I wink.

We pull up in front of a two-story house covered in gray siding. It’s obviously older but well-maintained. Natalie’s sleepover bag sits safely in the trunk of my car. I would prefer she kept some things at my place, or better yet, move in, but she waved me off when I mentioned it.

“Nervous?” I ask.

“Shouldn’t you be the nervous one?”

“Me? Parents love me.” I flash her my trained, polite smile, making her chuckle.

“Parents, maybe. But my nonna might have a problem with you not being Italian.” She shrugs.

“Don’t worry. Old ladies love me as well.”

“Ugh, you’re annoying.”

“You love it,” I poke, and she slaps my thigh.

Getting out of the car, I grab the two bouquets of flowers and a bottle of wine I got for Natalie’s mom and grandma.

“Suck up,” Natalie grumbles, making me laugh.

A woman opens the door, an older version of the woman standing next to me. Wild hair, dark eyes, and olive skin, but peppered with grays and a few wrinkles.

“You must be Matt,” she squeals, a grin overtaking her face.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barnett.” I shake her hand before handing her the flowers and the wine.

“Oh, call me Lucia, please.” She waves me off.

“Nick, they’re here.” She yells and ushers us inside.

“Hi Dad,” Natalie says to the large man in the living room, giving him a huge hug.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say, putting out my hand. He shakes it, using more force than necessary, so I return the favor. He’s an inch shorter than me, but his build is wider, and his hair gives him an extra inch.

“You, too. Can’t say we heard a lot about you.” He looks at me pointedly, but I don’t get flustered.

“Guess we’re going to change that today,” I say with a bright smile.

Natalie, usually the center of attention, seems smaller somehow, the nerves probably getting to her.

“Where’s Nonna?” she asks her mom.

“What do you think? In the kitchen, of course.” Lucia chuckles.

She grabs my hand and leads me to where I suppose kitchen is. To an innocent bystander, she might seem excited, but I know better. She just wants to get this part over with. I circle her fingers with mine and squeeze gently, and she exhales a breath.

In the kitchen, an older woman stained with flour works on something on the island.

“Nonna, this is Matt.”

She glances up, her face stretching into a smile.

“Matt.” Is all she says before circling her floury arms around me in a crushing hug. Natalie mouths ‘sorry.’

“Natalia, cara, look at how handsome he is.” She grabs me by the chin, and Natalie lets out a loud laugh.

“Yes, Natalia, look at how handsome I am.” I smirk, and she smacks my chest.

“Can you make ravioli?” Nonna says in a heavy Italian accent.

“Not sure, but I make my own gnocchi.”

Nonna’s eyes widen in surprise. “We’ll make gnocchi next time. But come, I’ll show you how.” She dismisses Natalie and takes me under her arm.

It’s perfect, giving Natalie time to acclimate to the fact I’m here, and I get to learn a kick ass new recipe.

Nonna Antonia leads with an iron fist, leaving no room for error. Pretty soon, we’re on a roll (pun intended), rolling out the dough, filling it with ricotta cheese, and cutting out the little squares.

“I guess I’ll have a new meal to make for our lunches.” I break the comfortable silence.

“You care for her,” she concludes, not looking up from the ravioli.

“More than I’m able to express in words.” There’s no point in bullshitting this wise woman.

“Hmm.” She nods. “Natalia is a gentle soul. She may not look like it, but she is. She doesn’t need anyone taking care of her, but she needs someone in her corner.” She’s not asking, she’s telling.

I nod in agreement before she continues, “Of course, I would prefer you make an honest woman out of her and give me some great grandbabies, but I know my granddaughter well enough to know it won’t be easy.” We both chuckle.

“If you ask me, she’d already be living with me, a ring on her finger, but I’ll wait however long it takes.” This time, she’s the one to nod.