CHAPTER 25 Lindsay
Lindsay
Sometimes I play a little game in my head. The rules are simple.
I lay down on a bed, as still as I possibly can, squeezing my eyes shut and imagining I’m in a place somewhere far away. I play it for as long as possible to avoid whatever turmoil I might be facing.
It’s my favorite game to play.
But I have to be a big girl and face my problems eventually. If only this particular problem didn’t feel like a knot of terror that threatens to unravel me.
I hear movement at the front door and still my eyes don’t open.
Not when I feel the dip of the mattress. Not until I feel the intensity of his gaze on my cheek.
I crack my eyes open and turn over to him with a sigh. He’s wearing black joggers and a T-shirt.
Seeing him in normal clothes always sends a shock through my system. He looks good in them, in everything he wears. But this look makes me want to rake my nails through every inch of him.
“You’re angry,” I say taking note of his expression.
“Astute observation,” he retorts, the muscle ticking in his jaw.
I just got back from the mall-slash-doctor’s-appointment, and it’s official. I am two months pregnant. I sat in that office not feeling surprised, but excited.
I already knew I was pregnant. The confirmation made me happy.
Then I started thinking about the father of the baby, and my happiness began to dampen.
I have no idea how he’ll react to it. But one thing’s for sure, I have to tell him.
If for nothing else but so I can get it out of the way and come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have a little baby of my own.
I’ve always wanted kids. It was on the top of the list on my ten-year plan. And while it’s coming a little early, I couldn’t be more glad.
I never would have thought I’d be having a baby with Matteo Vitale, however. That’s a curveball I didn’t see coming.
Not in a million years.
“I’m sorry we ditched the guards,” I say lowly.
“You also got rid of your phone,” he grits out.
Anger rolls off him like a sonic wave, calm and dangerous. And if it were anyone else, alarm bells would be going off in my head. But with him I simply scoff, meeting his eyes head on. Figures I’m about to tell him the single most important thing ever and we’re starting off with a fight.
“Yes, I got rid of my phone. I bought a new one. It’s pretty nice, right?” I say, waving the phone in his face.
“Lindsay,” he growls.
“Matteo,” I say in a similar tone. “If you put a tracker or even attempt to hack into this one, we’re going to have serious problems.”
“Do you have any idea what I thought when you and Valentina went missing like that?” he questions, and I can see what’s hidden beneath the surface of his anger. “I thought you were gone.”
Almost immediately, all the anger in my body evaporate. I’m left with a hollow ache and a clenching in my chest. I sit up so I can look at him clearly.
“I’m not going anywhere, Matteo,” I assure him.
His admission comes with a startling realization. He must have been preparing for this. For the possibility of me leaving. He doesn’t seem to believe me, so I shift even closer, our gazes clashing.
“Read my lips, Matteo. I am not going anywhere,” I state. “You’re unfortunately stuck with me. God help you on your journey.”
When his lips twitch, I feel my muscles loosen.
“So where did you and Valentina go?” he asks curiously.
I blow out a breath, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Matteo zeroes in on the movement and all the worry in his expression returns.
“What’s wrong?”
“Okay, so I’m going to tell you something and I need you to not be angry. Or upset,” I start then curse underneath my breath. “Actually, no. You can feel however you want to feel. Just be honest about it, okay?”
“Tell me what’s going on,” he commands.
I reach for his hand, holding on to it because I need something to ground me. My heart is like a jackhammer in my chest and there’s a ringing in my ears. I almost can’t bring myself to look into his eyes but I do, blown away as always by the sight of them.
“I’m pregnant, Matteo.”
The words leave me and then the room goes very, very quiet.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. I watch his face the way I used to watch him across a courtroom, looking for the tell, the micro-expression, the single thread I could pull.
There’s nothing. Just stillness so complete it frightens me a little.
One second.
Two.
Five.
His jaw tightens—not the controlled tick I’ve seen a hundred times when he’s managing his temper. This is different. This is the tension of a man who is holding his entire body together by sheer will and isn’t sure how much longer he can do it.
“Matteo—”
“Don’t.” His voice comes out low. Stripped of its usual cadence. Just the one word, and then silence again.
I stay very still. I’ve learned, with him, that stillness is sometimes the only language that reaches him.
He exhales through his nose. Long and slow, like he’s counting.
His eyes drop to my stomach—just for a second, barely a glance—and then he looks away, jaw working.
He turns slightly to the side, not enough to leave, just enough that I can’t see his full face.
His hand comes up and drags once over his mouth.
I think about Sara. I know he’s thinking about Sara.
A woman who looked at the same equation and chose the exit. Who decided that a baby plus this life plus this man didn’t add up to something she wanted.
And he had let her go. Quietly. Without punishment. Without a single act of the violence he was so capable of. He had simply opened his hands and watched her walk away.
He’s waiting for me to do the same thing.
The realization sits in my chest like something warm and slightly painful.
“Hey.” I get up from the bed. He doesn’t turn back to me but he doesn’t step away either, which I decide to take as an invitation. I move around to face him, tipping my head to look up at him. His eyes find mine slowly, like it costs him something.
There it is. Underneath all that stillness.
Fear. Bare and unguarded and completely unlike him.
“I’m not her,” I say quietly.
Something moves across his face. Quick, like a door opening and closing in a strong wind.
“You don’t know what you’re—”
“I’m not her, Matteo.” I say it again, firmer this time, because he needs to hear it twice. “I’m not going to Atlanta. I’m not leaving. I’m not going to look at you and this life and decide it’s too much. Do you understand me?”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then, very quietly—so quietly I almost miss it:
“How far along?”
“Two months.” I watch his face. “The doctor says the baby is healthy.”
Another silence. But this one is different. Softer at the edges.
“Two months,” he repeats, like he’s doing the same arithmetic I did lying on that hotel ceiling. Like he’s working out exactly which night.
“The first night,” I confirm.
Something shifts in his expression then. It’s not quite a smile. It’s something older than that. A man quietly reckoning with the fact that even before he knew her name, before he’d heard her say “no” and “go to hell, Vitale” and “I hate your guts”—she was already his.
He sits back down on the bed. Reaches for my hand. Turns it over and presses his thumb into my palm like he’s checking I’m real.
“What do you want to do?” he asks finally.
And now—from this—the question sounds completely different. Not evasion. Not self-protection. Just a man who has been left before, asking the only question that matters. Giving me the choice he never gave Sara, because she never asked.
I squeeze his hand. “I want to have our baby, Matteo.”
“What did they say?” he questions.
I sit down again, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“I haven’t been experiencing any typical symptoms of pregnancy.
When I first suspected I could be pregnant, it was only because I’d missed my period.
Then I started to think about it and I realized I also messed up my birth control shots around the first time we slept together.
I put two and two together and took a test, which turned out positive. ”
Matteo expels a harsh breath. I continue speaking.
“I was so scared after the test because I had no clue prior to that. I’ve been drinking and doing pretty much everything normally. I was worried it could have affected the baby. Valentina took me to the clinic today to confirm my pregnancy and also to make sure the baby’s okay.”
“And is it?”
“Yeah,” I say on a smile. “It’s growing well. The doctor said some women don’t experience anything during their first trimester and that there’s usually nothing wrong.”
“Which means?”
“We’re going to have a baby, Matteo. A happy, healthy baby.”
“And what would that mean for us?” he asks after several seconds pass.
He looks so unsure right now. So unlike that man that walked into the bar that day, sure and confident with the world at his feet. That Matteo would have taken all he wished from me without a second thought. This one hesitates, wondering how he’s going to reach me.
He has no idea I’m already right beside him and I have no plans to leave. I hate that I made him doubt us so much. A tear slides down my cheek and his eyes are like molten lava as they follow its progress.
Matteo looks at me with an intensity that steals my breath. I step toward him, lifting my hand to stroke his cheek, over his bottom lip.
“You realize you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, right?” I say softly.
He takes my hand and kisses my palm, eliciting a shudder from deep within me.
“Pot, kettle,” he murmurs in reply.
“I’m yours, Matteo. I’m yours and you’re mine.
I’ve been yours for so long and I’ve let myself be blind to it.
I was afraid of confessing it because I thought I’d be doing myself a disservice.
But the truth is, I wouldn’t have known who I was if I didn’t meet you.
You dug so deep inside of me and pulled out my truest desires.
You conquered my fears and you saw me, more than anyone else ever has. How could I not love you?”