Page 38 of Matteo
In the dining room, Layla is offering Matteo some of the banana squished between her fingers.
He opens his mouth, pretending to eat it. “Yummy, thank you. Your turn. You eat it now.”
She laughs and sucks her fingers into her mouth.
“Mama,” her cry, loud and happy, fills me full of love.
“Good morning, baby. Look at you being a big girl eating your oatmeal. Oh, that banana looks yummy.” I kiss her cheek and get covered in banana and oatmeal.
Matteo chuckles and offers me a wet baby washcloth. “Here you go. Sorry.”
I wipe my mouth. “It’s all right. I’ve gotten worse from her. I’m sorry I slept so long. Thank you for taking care of her.”
“Don’t apologize. I took care of her so you could sleep. I love taking care of her. She’s really a good baby, even teething. Don’t worry about making breakfast. I ordered it in. Since I wasn’t sure what you would want, I got a few things.”
“Holy crap, you ordered three breakfasts?” I study the boxes waiting on the counter. “You really do have an addiction to ordering food.”
He shrugs, “It’s so easy. And I couldn’t order eggs Benedict for me without ordering it for you too. This is chicken and waffles. And this is egg, bacon, and cheese on a croissant with country potatoes. A few minutes in the slightly smoky air fryer will make it taste like it’s fresh off the stove.”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “That eggs Benedict looks delicious. I’d like that one, please.”
“Good, it’s been forever since I had their chicken and waffles.”
I can’t take my eyes off how deftly his hands move. I’m remembering how nimble his fingers were as he braided my hair.
“That’s a relief. How long will it take? Because it looks good.” I stare at the toaster oven, willing it to be done.
“It will take a few minutes. Sit down, and I’ll bring it to you. What do you want to drink? How about some orange juice?”
Sighing, I go back to the table where Layla is banging her spoon on the highchair tray to a beat she likes. “God, I love seeing her happy. She can make as much noise as she wants, and I won’t get hit for it.”
Matteo appears in front of me. “He hit you when she made a noise?”
I jerk my eyes to his in horror. “I said it out loud?” Too late, I slap my hand across my mouth. My head drops in embarrassment.
“Amy, please look at me. The shame isn’t yours, it’s his. None of what happened was your fault. Not a single thing.”
My hand falls from my mouth and goes to my stomach to still the rioting there. “I think he hated her. She couldn’t cry or make any noise. He would get angry just looking at her. I didn’t understand it. Sometimes I think she knew, and she didn’t make much noise…if he was there.”
Tears fall, and seconds later, I’m wrapped in Matteo’s arms. I hold him tight, desperate for his strength, his warmth after what feels like too long cold, and alone.
He’s murmuring low in his chest. What he’s saying beyond, “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” I have no idea—it’s the vibration running from his chest to mine that calms me.
In his arms, I believe him. It was going to be okay. In the end, it would all work out. I’ll work for Matteo and live with him and Layla in this beautiful condo until I’m able to stand more firmly on my feet. One day, I’ll move us to a little house with grass and trees where she can run around and play. It will be a good life with us safe at last.
His large hand gently cradles my head. I go still. For a moment, the memory of Danny grabbing my head and squeezing me when he was angry flashes. Except it’s not Danny. There’s no scent of tobacco, sweat, and beer. I inhale deeply taking the scent of him into my lungs. His scent is leather, something green, the slightest hint of rich vanilla, and something all Matteo—it’s deeper, richer, and intoxicating.
“Mama,” Layla calls to me. “Mama. Mama. Mama.” It’s on a loop, and it’s not going to stop. I pull away to answer her. For the first time, I wish like hell I didn’t have to.
Matteo's arms slide down to my waist. “Hey, sweetie. You want Mama’s attention?”
I find her grinning wide, her hand in her mouth with drool running down her arm. It’s only when Matteo lets me go that I go to her.
“What—oh my, someone needs her diaper changed.” Unhooking her from the chair, I can’t avoid her banana-covered hand. “Come on, let’s go get you changed.”
Flashing Matteo a grateful smile, I carry a babbling Layla to her room. After changing her stinky diaper, I clean Layla of the last remnants of banana clinging to her baby fingers. She’s also managed to get banana on the pink dress she’s wearing.
“Let’s get you into a clean dress. What do you think? Do you want to pick it out?” I ask her as I carry her to the walk-in closet.