45. Matteo
Matteo
MATTEO
let me know when you’re done and I’ll come pick you up
thinking of you Dove
you’re so strong, you’ve got this
DOVE
Thank you for the offer but I’m going to walk back
MATTEO
that’s over an hour away
DOVE
I need it
I need to be alone and clear my head
MATTEO
just say the word and I’ll be right there
DOVE
I know, thank you
My pacing has made a track mark in the carpet.
I’ve been moving back and forth in the same direction for over an hour, the same amount of time Evie is spending walking from the therapist’s office to here. And I can’t believe I’m even thinking it, but thank fuck Caleb isn’t staying here right now because I can’t put on a mask for this.
For once in my life, I can’t lock away my emotions behind the wall I built around my heart. Right now, the pain of knowing what Evie went through is far too great. The wave of an ocean has slammed into the wall, every single brick I laid over the years gone with one confession.
My entire body thrums with anxious energy. I tried to finish the code for Kieran this afternoon, but I made more errors and spent more time cleaning up my mess than anything else.
I all but jump out of my skin when my phone rings. I’m so keyed up I don’t even check caller ID before swiping my thumb across the screen.
“Dove?” I answer.
There’s a beat of silence before the voice I began to dread when I was as young as four comes over the line. “Matteo, is that how you answer your calls? It’s incredibly unprofessional.”
My eyes slam shut, my nostrils flaring as I try to withhold a deep sigh of disappointment.
It takes everything in me not to hang up on my father. “I don’t receive work calls. Any and all business is discussed through my agent.”
A scoff has my lips twisting into a sneer. “Yes, well, that’s obvious by the way you answer your phone.”
It’s in these very rare phone calls that I wish I had the balls to block both of their numbers, but apparently I’m a masochist. Despite letting go of the relationship I always dreamed of having with my parents, I’ve never been able to completely cut them off.
A small part of me seems to still hold out hope, even though their repeated actions continue to speak for them.
Even though the damage they’ve caused can never be repaired.
Maybe one day I’ll be strong enough to do it.
“What do you want?” I ask, getting to the point as I check my watch.
Evie should be back by now. Why isn’t she back? Should I go looking for her?
“Why do you always assume I want something?”
I wait, not saying a word because I know he’ll crack. Sure enough, thirty seconds later, he clicks his tongue.
“Fine, your mother is hosting a large get-together and she would appreciate your attendance.”
And I would have appreciated her presence growing up but you don’t always get what you wish for.
The sound of the key sliding in the front door has me snapping, “I’m good, thanks.”
Ending the call to the sound of my father’s indignation, I throw my phone on the couch and hurry to the door but stop in my tracks the moment I set my gaze upon my girl.
Evie’s eyes are puffy, her shoulders hunched, perplexion ashen, and the spark I’ve worked so hard to help her reignite is nowhere to be seen. Her purse drops from her shoulder onto the floor as her eyes slowly lift to mine.
I was prepared for this, did my research on what a patient goes through during EMDR therapy and the toll it takes on you to process the emotions that were trapped in your body.
It’s exhausting, beyond draining. It looks like it sucked the life out of her.
She stands in front of the door, blinking at me slowly.
“Can I give you a hug?” I ask gently.
She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”
Nodding, I take another step back. I also expected this. It’s okay, I try to reassure myself, even though my heart pinches in pain because all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and soothe her.
“Would you like me to run you a bath?” I offer instead.
She flickers to life a little as she nods. “That would be amazing.”
“I only need a minute,” I say, already turning on my heel and rushing for the stairs. I may have jumped the gun on the bath, assuming she’d say yes, knowing that she would need comfort to bring her back to herself.
I’ve already prepared the projector, along with a bath caddy that holds her favorite snacks—M&M’s, popcorn, Doritos, and mini marshmallows for the hot chocolate downstairs.
Her comfort food is also sitting in my Uber Eats cart if the snacks aren’t enough.
Turning on the bath tap, I check the temperature, making sure it’s just right before pouring in the bubble bath liquid.
Wiping my hands, I pick up the iPad, connecting to the projector and pulling up her guilty pleasure show, The O.C.
I’m just laying out her undereye patches and face mask to the left of the bath when I hear the door creak open behind me. When I turn, I find Evie watching me with a look of awe, and to my surprise, silver begins to pool in her eyes.
“Matteo?” she whispers.
And fuck, doesn’t my heart skip a beat at hearing my name from her lips.
Clearing my throat, I offer a small smile as I wave in the direction of the bathroom. “I figured you’d need all your favorites.”
Evie blinks furiously, her smile watery as she breathes, “I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve everything that brings you joy, Evie.”
Shaking her head in astonishment, she takes a step forward. “Thank you isn’t enough.”
“It’s plenty. I just want to help, in any way I can.
” Smiling at her, I spin around and turn off the tap.
The bathroom layout works perfectly—the clawfoot tub sitting in the middle, facing the blank wall where I’ve set up the projector, the shower to the right and out of the way and the sink to the left holding the skin care.
“I’ll leave you to it. I laid out your robe and pajamas on the seat over there as well.” I move to leave but pause. “I’ll bring up a hot chocolate for you, and when you’re hungry, just give me a shout and I’ll order from the Indian restaurant on Seventh Street.”
“That’s my favorite.”
“I know.” As I move past her, Evie’s hand snaps out, clutching my wrist. My heart dives off a cliff.
“Stay,” she murmurs.
“It’s okay, I don’t—”
“Please,” she begs.
Holding my breath, I search for my Dove in her blue eyes. “Okay, I’ll make two hot chocolates.”
I don’t dare move as she leans forward and places her forehead against my chest, her free hand clutching my shirt like she needs to stabilize herself.
Ever so slowly, testing the waters, I lift my arm and gently place it around her.
When she doesn’t flinch but instead breathes a sigh of relief, all the air in my lungs escapes me.
Relief as swift as lightning strikes my body and I don’t hesitate.
Wrapping both my arms around her body, I hold her to me, kissing the top of her head. I’m eternally grateful that she feels safe enough to let me touch her after what I figure was one of the hardest things for her to face—speaking up.
“I’m so proud of you,” I whisper into her hair. “So goddamn proud of you, Dove. You’ve got this, baby, I know you do.”
Her voice cracks as she confesses, “It was hard.”
“I know, baby, but you’ve got this. You’re the strongest person I know. You just have to keep going, one day at a time, one session at a time.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll be here to catch you on the days where you feel like you can’t fly.”
She lifts her head, peering up at me through those thick black lashes I love so much. “That’s a lot for you to carry.”
I arch a brow. “Have you seen my body? I can carry a lot of weight.”
“Cocky bastard,” she teases, lips twitching as they threaten to lift into a smile.
Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, I murmur, “My beautiful Dove.”
Evie’s eyes flutter closed, her cheek leaning into the palm of my hand as she sighs. “Thank you…for everything.”
“I’d do anything for you. Anything.”
Fifty minutes later, Evie has reheated the bath for a second time, pressing play on episode two of The O.C. The bubbles hide her body as I sit beside the tub, dishing up the butter chicken that arrived moments ago.
“My mouth is salivating.”
I pass her the plate I made for her, and I can’t help but smile. “It smells incredible.”
“Better than incredible. I’m in heaven, Matteo.”
Slowly, I’ve watched Evie come back to herself, have been able to gently coax her out of that shell of exhaustion. She hasn’t brought up therapy since her earlier confession of how hard it was and I don’t want to push her.
I just want to continue being the man who puts that gorgeous smile on her face.
That’s all I want, to give her what she deserves—the world.