Five
Matteo
W hen the weather’s this good in San Francisco, the entire city seems to wake up at once.
The scent of sea salt and fresh bread mixes with roasted coffee and blooming citrus.
The Bay glitters in the distance, and a violinist plays something low and sweet near the fountain.
For once, even the traffic hum sounds happy.
Like everyone collectively agreed to skip their responsibilities and soak in the sunshine.
The Farmer’s Market is packed, shoulder to shoulder, full of sound, scent, and color.
I used to come here and walk out with three numbers and a couple of prospects for a night of adult entertainment.
But that was before.
Walking with Ellory and Amelia seems to make a great day perfect. We weave through the crowd, Amelia in her stroller, waving at strangers like she’s got handshakes to deliver. People smile, especially women. I can’t help noticing how many glance at my left hand.
Running into Ellory wasn’t an accident. Caroline Sullivan and Emerson Healy mentioned she was here.
I was on a mission to find her. I needed to tell her why I dropped the ball, and I think she understands.
Her bright pink cropped pants. Sunshine-yellow top.
Her hair is wild around her shoulders, oversized sunglasses hiding half her face. Today is my lucky day.
Before Amelia showed up at my door and flipped my world upside down—in the best way possible—I never wanted kids. Commitment gave me hives. Settling down felt like surrender. But somehow, this little girl cracked something open inside me. She’s not just my responsibility.
I want Ellory, in my life, and seeing them together flips a switch inside me.
Not because Amelia needs a mother. Not because I’m chasing some suburban fantasy. But because for the first time, I understand what it means to love someone without conditions.
Amelia’s changed everything. She is a bright, high-energy, wild-eyed wonder.
She kicks her legs when she sees birds, claps when I whistle, and has recently decided sugar packets are the best toy on earth.
Every day, she teaches me something I didn’t know I needed to learn.
And yeah, maybe I’m biased, but she’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. That smile? It guts me.
“Does she sleep through the night?” Ellory asks as she picks up some heirloom tomatoes.
“She slept on her mom’s chest for her first eight months, so right now we’re lucky if she gives us four hours in a row.
Nights are a disaster. She’s up, she’s hungry, and she’s ready to party.
We already lost our first nanny. She quit after four days.
Said Amelia was too spoiled. We’ve tried sleep training, but she screamed like we were torturing her.
The second you set her down, the wailing started all over again. ”
“How are you getting through?”
I step back so she can take in my disheveled look. “Not very well as you can see.”
Ellory smiles, and I’m smitten.
“I offered to hire a night nanny. The nanny refused and quit. Emerson just shrugged and said she wasn’t the right fit.”
“Emerson has twin boys, right?”
“She does.” I nod. “So when she told me to, ‘Let it go,’ I listened.”
Ellory pays for her tomatoes.
I look at my beautiful baby girl. “How can they not love you the way I do? You’re perfect. And you’re just adjusting to a new environment. So much change all at once.”
I’m sure people think I’m half crazy, but I don’t care. This energizer baby has me completely wrapped around her little finger.
Ellory returns. We’ve come to the end of the market.
“Would you like to join us for lunch?”
She turns and grins, a slow, radiant thing that lights up something buried deep inside me. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your hot date,” she says, nodding at Amelia.
I glance down at my daughter, who promptly slaps her stroller tray and kicks her feet like she just won a parade.
“Looks like she wants you to join us,” I say, flashing Ellory a smile that’s gotten me into—and out of—plenty of trouble.
“Where were you thinking?”
“Waterbar. Just past the Ferry Building. If we’re lucky, we can grab a patio table.”
She nods, then glances toward her bodyguard. I follow her gaze as she signals him over.
“Duane, I think I’ll join this couple for lunch. We’re heading to Waterbar.”
Couple.
She said it so casually, like it meant nothing.
But something shifts in my chest anyway.
Duane nods. “We can stash your groceries in the car with Richard. He’s just past the flower stall.”
Ellory turns to me. “Would that work?”
“Of course.” I step forward and extend a hand. “Matteo Marino.”
He shakes it, firm and impassive. “Duane Stephens.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Clear Security.”
“We’ve used Jim and his team before.”
Amelia does something and Ellory giggles—light and genuine—and just like that, I have a new second-favorite sound. Amelia’s laugh still holds the top spot. But I’d give anything to hear them together, in harmony.
Once the groceries are handed off, we walk over to Waterbar and manage to snag a table on the patio. It’s not the best spot—half-shaded, tucked near the back—but it works.
Amelia starts rubbing her eyes, lashes fluttering as she fights the inevitable. I mix her formula, offer the bottle. She shoves it away and lets out a wail that turns heads.
Her wail cuts through the buzz of conversation like a fire alarm in a gallery. Forks pause mid-air. A couple two tables over mutters something under their breath.
And just like that, the looks start.
Side-eyes. Scrunched noses. That silent, collective get your baby under control energy.
I used to be one of them. The guy who rolled his eyes at crying babies in public. Wondered why parents couldn’t just stay home.
What a selfish bastard I was.
This is karma.
Wriggling, red-faced, this isn’t just karma. It’s karma with colic and grabby fists
I lift Amelia into my lap, narrowly dodging her eager grab for the silverware. I slide it—and everything else—out of reach. For a moment, she’s content crinkling sugar packets between her fingers, but it doesn’t last. Her fussing ramps back up.
Ellory leans in, arms out. “Want to come here, sweetheart?”
Amelia lights up and goes to her without hesitation. Ellory bounces her gently, humming under her breath. It works, until Amelia spots the utensils on Ellory’s side. She lunges. We move them out of reach, and cue meltdown number two.
I try the bottle again. Nothing. Diaper’s fine. Still no peace.
“She wants to move,” Ellory says softly, brushing a curl from Amelia’s forehead. “She’s restless.”
I nod. “Probably. What if we get our lunch packed up and head back to my place?”
“You don’t have to entertain me. I’ll let you enjoy your afternoon with your daughter.”
But I don’t want the afternoon to end—not yet.
“She needs a nap,” I say. “It’s too loud here for her to settle, and if I miss the window, I’ll be up half the night. But if we go to my place, I can lay her down, and we might actually enjoy our food.”
Ellory hesitates. “Only if I’m not interrupting her schedule—or yours.”
“You’re not. I want you there. She’ll sleep better in her own bed.”
“Okay,” she says quietly. “Let’s do it.”
As we stand, I offer a heads-up. “Just so you know, my place looks like a baby bomb went off. It’s not how I usually live, but…the last couple of weeks have been a bit crazy.”
Ellory gives me a warm smile. “I’m not expecting perfection.”
We box up our food, and Duane signals Richard to bring the car around. The ride is short, just long enough for Amelia to nod off in her car seat, her head slumping to the side.
When we pull up to my building, Richard steps out and walks with us. He and Ellory exchange a quiet word.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave,” she tells him.
He gives her a long look, then glances at me. “All right. Don’t do anything crazy.”
I smirk. “Define crazy.”
He doesn’t answer. Just gets back in the car and shuts the door.
I glance at Ellory. “Guess that means you’re all mine.”
She turns away, and I swear she hides an eye roll behind those oversized sunglasses.
I still don’t know the full story behind the blackmail incident that warrants two full-time bodyguards, but I get it. She’s powerful, worth a fortune, and drop-dead gorgeous. If she were mine, I’d keep a guy like Richard nearby too.
Once upstairs, I carry Amelia to her crib and ease her down. Her eyes flutter open, but when I offer the bottle again, she takes two lazy pulls and drifts off. Like magic.
I watch Amelia for a beat longer, her chest rising in soft, sleepy waves. Peace like this feels rare—fragile. I shut the nursery door with a kind of reverence.
When I return to the living room, Ellory’s already unpacked our food and laid it out on the coffee table. She looks up at me with a soft smile.
“I think I need to figure out a better rhythm for her,” I say, sinking down beside her. “She loves being around people, but the market might’ve been too much stimulation. Half the time, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re doing great,” she says gently. “I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. I’ve never even babysat, so I’m definitely not the expert, but she seemed happy out there.”
“You’re an only child?”
She nods. “Yeah. My parents split when I was ten. She moved to Los Angeles, and I stayed with my dad. It’s been just the two of us ever since.”
“He’s always expected you to take over the business?”
“Pretty much.” She exhales. “I officially started working part-time in the showroom at sixteen, but I was tagging along long before that. There’s a lot of pressure.
We cater to the one percent, but now, we’re trying to do what Tiffany did in the nineties—hook the next generation early with entry-level pieces and grow them into the brand. ”
“That’s smart,” I say. “Very strategic.”
She grins. “Can I record you saying that? My dad and the board think I’m throwing money away with the rough diamond line and that Night to Remember dress.”