Chapter 37
I've been back in Italy for a week now. I really enjoyed Brazil—a country completely different from any other I've visited.
The people are warm and welcoming. The companies I hired there treated me very well—Owen recommended one to help me explore the local cuisine and another to buy and renovate the space.
It took me a while to decide on everything, especially the menu, because Brazilians love bold, flavorful food.
Not that our cuisine isn't flavorful, but they really build on their flavors.
That was the hardest part. I ended up agreeing to use different cheeses, for example, and we also implemented a different way of serving. I have to admit, it won me over—they like to sample a little bit of everything.
When I got back to Italy, I went straight to the restaurant in Venice. Since I'd been away for so long, I had no idea what state things were in, but I found everything in order. After three days, I headed to Rome—I needed to see my friends, especially Owen, who was eager to hear how it all went.
“Mattia, tell me how Brazil was. Did the companies I recommended take care of everything you needed?”
“It couldn't have gone better. Thanks for the help.”
“That's great. I'm glad to hear it—after all, I know how you work.”
“I found their cuisine quite different, like they love amplifying everything.”
“Yeah, exactly. You can find all kinds of food there, but with a different twist.”
“That's why it took longer. What was supposed to be four months turned into nine, but I left everything running smoothly. Now I just have to keep an eye on things from a distance. The staff there are excellent, and they're very welcoming.”
“I bet you didn't love that part, did you?” he says with a laugh, knowing full well how serious and arrogant I am.
“Yeah, it's really not my thing, but I didn't have any problems with anyone. Hiring went really fast, especially once I mentioned the salary.”
“That'll make anyone happy, and happy employees work better. I need to stop by Nicola's, then we'll hit a bar. I need a drink.”
“Trouble at the hearing?”
“As always. I'm fed up with it, but I'm not giving up. That bastard's going to stay locked up a while longer.”
I pull up outside Nicola's building, and as we're heading in, Emma and Carter are coming out. I stop to greet them, but she walks right past me. I exchange a few words with Carter, who quickly heads off after her. We go inside, and I ask Nicola what they were doing there.
“I bought the floor above and I'm renovating the whole thing. Since I already know Emma's work, I wanted her to lead the project.”
“But you bought the upper floor months ago. What took so long to start the renovation?”
“Emma has a five-month-old baby. When I reached out to Carter, her son had just been born, so I decided to wait.”
“So she has a son.”
“Yes, a boy. I haven't seen him yet. They got into the country this morning, and she didn't want to waste any time, so she came by today to take notes on the project and see the space upstairs.”
“How long will she be staying?”
“The design work won't take long. The renovation itself will take more time, so I'd say about two months.”
“Did she come alone?”
“From what I understand, Carter and Samantha came with her to help with the baby. They're the godparents, and all they talk about is Matteo. They're thrilled.”
When he says the child's name, a shiver runs through my entire body. I don't understand the feeling. We finally leave and head to the bar, the three of us. Since I'm driving, I stick to non-alcoholic drinks. We stay for a few hours, then call it a night.
I drop each of them off at home and head straight to mine.
The whole drive, I can't stop thinking about Emma and her son.
I want to see him, even if just from a distance.
I need to find out where they're staying—it's the only way I'll get to see her baby.
I don't understand this urge to meet a baby who isn't even mine.
I get home, take a shower, and Emma is still on my mind. Why can't I stop thinking about her, as if I still love her? No—that feeling died the day I saw she was pregnant with someone else's child.
The days pass. The Rome restaurant is more disorganized than the one in Venice, so I decide to stay a few extra days—or maybe that's just an excuse to see her again.
I must be losing my mind. On Saturday, I go to the restaurant.
I need to cook to keep my mind occupied.
I take over the main dish station and stay there through the entire lunch service.
When we finish, I take off my chef's coat, say goodbye to the staff, and I'm heading out when I see her—with a baby in her arms. She doesn't notice me watching, so I get a good look at the child.
He's a beautiful boy, cheerful, with fair skin, light brown hair, and blue eyes. Just like mine. Wait. It can't be.
Suddenly she turns toward me, and the smile on her lips vanishes. She sees that I've noticed the resemblance between me and the baby. I start walking toward them. She doesn't move. I reach her and say:
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I tried to tell you when you came to my house, but you wouldn't listen.”
“Let’s go to my place, so we can talk properly.”
She didn’t say anything. We walked to my car, and she sat in the back with Matteo on her lap.
Since I live nearby, the drive was short and completely silent.
When we arrived, I opened the car door for her.
She got out without looking at me. I unlocked the front door, and she went straight to my sofa.
The baby started crying, so she pulled a cloth from her bag—something like a burp cloth—and draped it over her shoulder and him.
I realized she was going to breastfeed. That’s when I decided to start talking.
“You could have called me, sent a message—why didn’t you?”
“Would you have believed me? When you came to my house, you didn’t even let me speak.”
“You mentioned your ex-boyfriend, so I assumed the baby was his.”
“That’s why I gave up trying to tell you—until he was born and you could see him. Maybe then you’d believe me.”
“It’s not like that, Emma…”
“Then how is it, Mattia? Because the whole time I was with you, I never cheated on you or was with anyone else.”
“I didn’t say that. You’re the one who left with some excuse—what did you want me to think? And the day I went looking for you, you brought up your ex.”
“So you concluded I was pregnant by him, and the baby couldn’t be yours.”
“No, I didn’t think that. You just left with some excuse after we’d been together for months.”
“Yes, I left. I gave you an excuse, yes. And no, I didn’t want to leave your life that way, but I was forced to.”
When she said this, I started thinking about who would have forced her to stay away from me. Everything I’d witnessed in New York came flooding back—when we were working together, the gifts, the notes, Carter commenting about her ex. It couldn’t be.