Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“What time is it?”
“Uh, two a.m.” A hint of guilt tinges his voice.
“Don’t worry about waking me up,” I say. “I’m used to it. I do have a toddler you know. He’s only recently started sleeping through the night.”
“All the more reason you need your rest.” Matteo gives me a kind smile. He bends his head down. “He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep.”
“Yeah.” I study Matteo’s features as though I’ll find all the answers I’m looking for there. His dark hair tumbling loosely forward, covering his forehead. His strong forearms draped across the side of the crib. His lips curving up as he watches Jack stretching in his sleep. His eyes gleaming with love for the child. Our child.
Matteo raises his gaze, catching me red-handed. I glance away but not before I notice his lovesick smile turning into a smug smirk.
Say something. “So, uh, you just got home? I notice you’re still in your suit.”
As if he’d buy that. Obviously, I wasn’t looking at his clothes.
“Yeah,” he says. “I wanted to join you for dinner, but there was . . . stuff to be done.”
I bite my tongue, stopping myself from asking what he meant by “stuff” and if he was in fact roaming the streets to kill someone from my family.
It’s not his fault, I remind myself. Even my mom says so. Just like how it’s not my fault the war is still ongoing.
“I heard you went to the hospital?” I ask.
“One of my men got hurt.” Matteo is being careful. No details. I don’t want to hear about what violent altercations have thrown him into his hospital bed.
“How is he doing?”
“Could be better. He’s in a comma.”
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s not a big deal. At least, it shouldn’t be. It’s part of the job.” His gaze drifts back to Jack. The sight seems to soothe him, take away some of his weariness, make the world seem like a better place.
He doesn’t want to put his friends and family in danger either, I realize. He didn’t choose this life either.
Matteo lets out a big sigh. “I should go. It’s late.”
We stand on either side of the open door, eyes locked.
“Thanks for letting me stay and watch Jack sleep for a while. I needed that,” he says.
“No problem.”
He goes quiet for a second, but he doesn’t step away. “I’d love to stay if that’s okay with you.”
I imagine his warmth wrapping around me under the covers, his arms like a protective shield, his scent filling my lungs and spreading through my body. He’d take away my ability to think clearly. “Maybe another night.”
Matteo’s smile remains, but I can see the disappointment in his eyes. “Okay. Good night, Grace.”
“Good night.” I give him a smile that I hope will help soften the blow.
He turns away but stops before I close the door. “I have a surprise for you, by the way,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll show you something tomorrow.”
Matteo
“Wow. When did you get this installed?” Grace’s full lips part as her eyes sweep over the playground in my backyard.
A grin spreads across my face. That’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for. I did well, if I may say so myself.
Before I left to search for Grace in Delaware, this part of the backyard was a pristine, uninterrupted stretch of green grass. Now, a large playset with stairs and vertical climbers and monkey bars sits on top of rubber tiles that bounce underfoot, cushioning Jack when—not if—he falls.
“As soon as I learned about Jack.”
“Like, when you found out he was your son?” Grace looks down at her fingers, counting, probably trying to figure out how long it took to install this thing.
Meanwhile, Jack doesn’t question anything. He just charges at full speed toward the wrong end of the slide, falling face-first as he attempts to hug the thing. “Ouchie,” he whimpers softly.
I sprint toward Jack as he drops his butt onto the rubber tile.
“You okay, honey?” Grace asks in a calm voice.
Jack swivels his little head until he finds Grace, still standing in the same spot as before. “Yeah.” He grins.
A shot of pride surges through me. He doesn’t even cry.
I offer the brave little guy a hand. “Need help getting up?”
Jack grabs my hand and pulls himself up, thanks me, then bounces away on his little feet. Like nothing ever happened. So polite too, with the courteous “thank you.”
Grace has done a great job raising Jack on her own. I stare at her with amazement when she joins me by the slide.
“I freaked out too when he first took a fall,” Grace says, eyes fixed on Jack. “But then I read somewhere that it’s better for Jack if I play it cool.”
“That’s awesome.” I have so much to learn. So much to catch up on.
We stand there in silence, both of us avoiding what needs to be said, afraid of disturbing this delicate balance. But grinning and waving back at Jack can only occupy us for so long.