Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
A my
He looks so worried. Bitsy—Elizabeth—in yet another shopping escapade, has gone overboard. And he’s worried it will upset me. Now I feel guilty. It’s only me feeling that I don’t deserve all the nice things he and his mother have done for me. Like I have to worry about paying him back because nothing comes without a price.
Yet Matteo has repeatedly made it clear that he doesn’t expect something back. I finally understand. Bitsy and Matteo have so much money that the toys, clothes, phone, and even the car are pocket change to them. It’s needed, so why not?
“I’d like to see.” I push up from the table.
Sighing, he unstraps Layla from her highchair. She hooks an arm around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder. Seeing them together, Layla happy and content in a way she was never with her own father has me blinking back tears.
He leads the way, stopping in the second living room—or would it be called a sitting room? Oh my gosh, it looks like Christmas exploded in here.
Layla lets loose a squeal of happiness as she reaches for the tree. The tree was previously decorated in a muted kind of way. With pretty yet kind of boring green and red metallic balls interspersed with a few in silver.
Now, it’s an explosion of color with gorgeous ornaments. There are snowmen, cartoon characters in Christmas settings, penguins covered in glitter, and Santa Claus going down a chimney, eating cookies, and reading a long list. In between those new ornaments is garland in red, green, and silver, along with bright, multicolored lights. Below it all is a gorgeous quilted red velvet tree skirt covered in presents.
A faux fireplace with a mantel is now in the corner of the room. Above it is a large wreath with not just holly but bright red, green, and gold ornaments. On the mantel are white candles among faux tree garland wrapped in ribbon and white lights. Hanging from the mantel are bright red stockings trimmed in lace with our names on them. There’s one for me, Layla, and Matteo—all bulging with candy coming out of the top.
I’m awestruck. Unable to find words, I turn to Matteo, who looks as though he’s prepared for me to yell or something.
“This isn’t all of it.” He murmurs low.
“How could there be more?”
Sighing, “Follow me.”
I do so in a daze. The room used to be his office. It’s a corner room with large windows covered in thick, bright white curtains that are open. The desk, chairs, and filing cabinet are gone. Only two bookcases along the wall remain. In the corner, where the large windows are, is an easel and a large wooden workbench with multiple drawers. Along one of the walls are a dozen blank canvases in various sizes.
“This was a thought, but I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed by all of this. It was just supposed?—”
This man wanted to give me exactly what I dreamed of, yet he also wanted to wait until I was ready to receive it. Without thought, I lay a hand on his arm. That spark is there again, only it doesn’t scare me as much as it did yesterday.
“Thank you. I love it.” I give into the need surging through me and go up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. It isn’t merely a spark, it’s so intense it wakes up every cell in my body for more. I want to find out what his lips feel like against mine.
No. Stop it. Enjoy this moment for what it is, and don’t hope for more when it wouldn’t be fair to him. “Really, thank you for everything.”
Oh my god, is he blushing? How is he real? “Well, it was technically my mom who did all the shopping and…”
“Yes, but it was because it was what you wanted. To give me and Layla a Christmas, even if it’s a few days late.” I squeeze his arm lightly before letting go.
Layla reaches for me. I take her and cuddle her close. “Want to go open presents? Yeah, let’s go tear some stuff up.”
Matteo
When she lets go of my arm, everything in me longs for more of her touch. Carrying her to bed earlier today was heaven and hell. Heaven at having her in my arms, and hell when I had to put her down.
I resented the fuck out of the call from the clinic, taking me away from her. Except it was a good thing. It kept me from opening my mouth and telling her everything.
It was far too soon for that. Even if I was certain she felt something for me, too. Amy might feel it, but it also scared her. She was afraid of trusting in anything—not just me.
That fucker really hurt her. Not simply her body but her mind. While she left him more than two months ago, she was simply surviving. There was no time for her to truly recover. To learn to trust in others and herself. That she wouldn’t find herself in the same place again, or worse, for trusting in the wrong person.
I had my first therapy session this morning with Hillary. I’m grateful she’s willing to do them by phone since I didn’t want to leave Amy and Layla alone. And in the future it’s more convenient for my schedule. Today was mainly an introduction.
She wasn’t happy I spent most of the time talking about Amy and asking what I could do for her and how best to handle my attraction while balancing her need to heal. But she gave in when I explained everything Amy had been through. The shit she told me is still fucking with my head. Amy’s possible PTSD, trauma responses, anxiety, and all the ways I could screw up left me in a cold sweat.
What it boiled down to was that Amy needed time. Since I wasn’t sure I could keep my mouth shut, I hid from her. After the call from the clinic, I put the finishing touches on the presents and Amy’s studio—wondering the whole time if it would be a good thing or blow up in my face.
Then, I worked out until my muscles burned. Even as I did it, I was annoyed for needing to jerk off in the shower. But I was glad I did. If I hadn’t, when I was braiding Amy’s hair, I would have probably come in my damn sweats. Hearing her little gasps and shaky breathing when my fingers brushed against the back of her neck almost completely undid me. The only reason I managed to keep my cock limp was to remember she’d jump and run if she felt what she did to me.
It’s so fucking adorable watching Layla and Amy opening presents. They’re down on the floor together. Layla is chewing the paper. Amy is showing her everything they got. It could be the morning of Christmas with us as a family.
“Matteo, this one is for you.” Amy offers me the small box. “Come open it.”
Because I couldn’t deny her a thing, I go down to the floor with her. I open the present. Amy is curious, so I show her the two silk ties.
Her eyebrows go up. “You wear suits?”
“Yes, I usually take off the jacket once I get to work and put the white coat on. My grandfather had a thing against casual clothing in business settings. He considers it a respect thing for the business and the other person. I also like the ease of suits. No worrying about shopping. I call my tailor who has my measurements, my clothes get made, and can be picked up a week or two later.”
“You have your suits made for you? Wait, clothes? As in more than suits,” Her eyes are wide.
Layla looks from her to me and widens her own eyes. It’s so fucking cute I can’t keep from chuckling. Layla isn’t sure if she likes me laughing at her.
“When you consider how long quality suits last, it’s not like it’s an outrageous expense. And it makes sense for them to make my other clothes if they have my measurements for the suits.” I shrug.
“What else do they make?”
“Everything,” I admit. “From my boxers to my polos.”
“Wow. Rich, rich.” She giggles, and it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. “Now I get why rich men always get ties and cufflinks for gifts.”
“When we had Christmas together, I got ties and cufflinks.”
“That’s all you got?” Her smile turns sad.
“Christmas for us isn’t about giving gifts. It’s about being together. When we could buy whatever we want for ourselves, it’s not really easy to get a gift for each other.” I assure her.
Her smile is back. “Your mom is really sweet to make sure you have something to open also. These sketchbooks are perfect. Two different sizes and both fit in these gorgeous leather portfolios. I used to imagine having something exactly like this growing up.”
Ah fuck. Her smile could split her face. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek again. “Thank you.”
Layla pats me on the other cheek. My two girls. So freaking beautiful and happy. I don’t think there’s a better gift in the whole damn world.
She goes back to opening presents with Layla. Layla is positive the wrapping paper is more important than the toys Amy is trying to show her.
“Another one for you, Matteo. I want to know what it is.” She waits expectantly after handing it to me.
To please her, I open it.
It’s clear she’s not sure why it’s a good gift. “Huh, a razor. It looks wicked. No, Layla, don’t touch.”
“My mother saw me admiring Rafe’s. I considered buying one, then forgot all about it by the time I got home.”
“Hmm,” she tilts her head as she studies the razor. “I’m not as afraid to meet your mom as I was yesterday.”
Her confidence has me wondering. “Why?”
“Because she cares about your happiness. And if you say I’m good, she will, too. No warning me off that I don’t belong in your world like a bad soap opera or something.”
She isn’t wrong.
“Oh, Matteo, all the colors. These are gorgeous. Thank you. And they come with a box. I love them.” She’s sighing with happiness as she runs a hand over the tubes of oil paint.
Layla is trying to taste one of the tubes. “No, baby, let’s see. There’s another gift for you.”
Grumpy at not getting a tube, Layla blows a raspberry at her mother. She slaps at the baby doll Amy was trying to get her to play with earlier. Stormy brown eyes find me, and she reaches out to me. I take her from Amy, who sighs at her daughter’s antics.
I cuddle Layla close. She needs a nap.
“Another one for you, Matteo.” Amy hands me the box and waits for me to open it. “A watch? Patek Philippe. Never heard of it. I thought it would be a Rolex or something.” She shrugs and returns to opening the gifts.
Sighing, I put the watch back into the box. My mother, I swear sometimes. Yes, the watch is not flashy. It’s actually one I looked at myself. However, the watch costs about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I didn’t think it was a good idea to wear it at the clinic around low-income patients.
“Matteo, this is big, and it has your name and mine.” Amy pulls it out from under the tree where it’s tucked away.
“How did I miss her putting it under the tree?” I shake my head. “She is too devious. I don’t doubt one of the twins brought it up when I was laying into her about the whole art studio.”