Chapter 39
Seeing father and son together warmed my heart.
Despite everything that happened, I wanted to tell Mattia about our son, and doing so took an enormous weight off me—knowing I'd done my part.
Matteo loved being in his father's arms, but we'll be leaving soon.
As soon as I finish the project, I can't stay here—and I won't.
I'm working hard, only stopping to breastfeed my baby.
Mattia comes to see him, with my permission, of course.
He asked me to visit his mother, but I don't feel ready yet.
So our relationship comes down to this—he comes, visits his son, and leaves.
Every time, he tries to reach out to me, but I've already told him: I forgive him, but there won't be anything more between us.
The project is in its final stages. We've already hired the company that will handle the office renovation, and we've started work on the upper floor.
Everything's running smoothly, and I believe within three weeks I'll be done and can leave.
We completed all the paperwork so my son would have his father's last name, so now he's Matteo Bianchi.
Like I said, he's the father and has that right—I only did what I thought was right.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see a message. I open it and read.
“Have dinner with me tonight?”
Mattia doesn't give up, so I respond.
“The only thing we have to discuss is our son, and we can talk about him at my place.”
I respond and put the phone back in my pocket, but it vibrates again. I know it's Mattia and decide to answer later. It's late when I get home. I find my baby already asleep. I love putting him to sleep, singing to him, feeling him close to me—it's wonderful.
“Good evening, friend. You got home late today.”
“Yes, friend, I'm sorry. I ended up leaving you alone with Matteo.”
“Mattia came by. I figured he'd sent you a message, so he stayed and put him to sleep.”
“Yes, he sent me a message asking me to dinner, but of course I didn't accept.”
“Friend, don't you think it's time to forgive him?”
“I've already forgiven him, but I haven't forgotten what he did, and it hurt me deeply.”
“I know, and I'm so sorry about that.”
“If it weren't for you guys, I would have spent my entire pregnancy alone, and that, friend, hurt me so much.”
“But you still love him, just like he loves you.”
“Love isn't everything. We need trust, and to know how to listen and communicate. That's where he failed me.”
“You suffered a lot in your first relationship, and then you got involved with Mattia. As different as he is, he didn't act right, and I understand you. Just take things at your own pace, and don't let fear—or any other feeling—keep you from love.”
“When and if my heart accepts him back, friend. But for that to happen, he's going to have to prove he really trusts me and show me he's changed.”
“Mattia is arrogant, I know, but I also know he loves you, and he loves our baby.”
“And our son loves his father too. Their first moment together moved me so much. I would never hide Matteo from him, and it was beautiful to see the connection between them.”
“Yes, I got to witness that today, and I was so happy to see how much our son loves his father.”
“How can such a tiny little thing already know what love is?”
“Like I said, friend, it's the connection between them.”
We stood there for a while, watching my baby sleep. Then I went to take a shower and lie down because soon he'd wake up to nurse. I still needed to eat since I'd barely eaten all day, and Matteo nurses a lot—my little big boy.
I wake up early the next day, shower, get ready, and go breastfeed my son.
It's the moment I love most between the two of us—a precious connection.
Having him there with me, knowing I'm his nourishment, that only I can give him this, makes me feel like a woman, a mother capable of anything for my son.
Unfortunately, I have to go to work, but I could spend the whole day just like that, holding my son as he clings to me.
Still, the sooner we finish the project, the sooner we'll leave, and I'll have more time with him.
I arrive at the construction site and remember I still haven't read the message Mattia sent me the day before.
Since it's old news now, I decide to let it go—despite everything, nothing from him interests me anymore.
Our day is very productive, and the space is getting more beautiful every day.
The renovation and construction are coming together, with the furniture taking its proper place, the chandeliers we installed, the rooms—the break room, the lounge, even the waiting room—everything looks wonderful.
We keep at it until we finally reach the finish line.
At last, I'll be leaving. Another project with my name on it, and I feel so proud to show others what I can do.
We decide to go out and celebrate, and since I have to bring Matteo, we're going to have dinner at Mattia's restaurant.
Our reservation is already confirmed. I get home in time to shower, get ready, and head out.
I'm wearing a fitted black midi dress with a slit up to my thigh and knee-high boots.
I throw on a coat since it's cold. My son looks like a little teddy bear in his onesie with the little ears—he's adorable.
We arrive at the restaurant and are escorted to the VIP room, where the chef himself greets us.
Mattia appears in his chef's coat, greeting everyone, and lets us know he's running the kitchen tonight—something he always does when he's working at his own restaurant.
We placed our orders, and the food was wonderful.
I'd missed that unique seasoning only he knows how to create.
We ordered dessert, and just as we were finishing up, Mattia appeared with another dish—compliments of the house.
I have to admit, it was delicious—little fried honey-flavored balls called struffoli.
I'd never tried them before. When we finally finished, he came to our room to thank us for coming.
Matteo was awake, eyes wide, taking everything in.
The moment he saw his father, he reached for him, and Mattia rushed over to scoop up his son.
I let them have their moment, but it was getting late and even colder, so I walked over to take my son back so we could leave.
“Let me give you a ride. I'm almost done—just need to take off my chef's coat.”
“You don't have to. We live far away, and it's out of your way.”
“Please, Emma. You'll be leaving soon, and it'll be harder for me to see Matteo.”
“We're leaving in two days, so you can come by tomorrow and spend some time with him. But right now, we have to go.”
I say this and take my son from his father's arms. He looks at me, and I see nothing but regret in his eyes, but I stay strong.
I turn my back on him and walk out. I grab my phone and text him the time he can come see his son—it'll be when I'm heading out to deliver the artwork.
I want as little contact with him as possible, and whatever I can avoid, I will.