Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Matteo ponders this for a minute before he nods his head. “Yeah.”
Short and to the point.
I chuckle at the boy before heading towards the door. He wastes no time scrambling out of Emma’s lap and following me. I look back behind me at her stunned face and quirk an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you’re going to want a minute to fix…” I motion around my head to make it obvious I’m talking about her hair. She grabs the nearest pillow and chucks it at me, but I dodge it in time.
I cluck my tongue. “So violent. You’ll fit right in.”
Matteo watches the entire exchange with curiosity. When I reach out a hand, he grabs it without hesitation. Inside of me, something happens. A hole in my soul heals.
Anyone who threatens to take this from me, anyone who poses a risk to the family I now have, better be willing to make deals with the devil because there isn’t a god who can save them.
Chapter Sixteen- Emma
Every time my father has discussed the dangers of the Lombardi family, he reminded me how cruel they are. Ruthless. Willing to stop at nothing to fulfill their personal agenda and goals. His association with them put a target on our heads. It was part of the reason he had been so eager to send me away to university. Their reach extends far beyond the borders of New York, but every degree of separation meant more safety.
If anyone finds out Matteo is Enzo’s son, then he will become a pawn in a very dangerous game. I grew so afraid of the anonymous danger that I didn’t dare utter Enzo’s name. Matteo’s dad was an anonymous one-night stand, something close enough to the truth I don’t stutter as I lie.
I’ve spent so long afraid of the anonymous danger that I forgot about the danger I already know. And he’s making pizza with my son. Our son.
Enzo is far more dangerous than the stories my father told me because I can already feel the magnetic pull from him. He wants to keep us in his world, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to let him.
I can see it in Matteo too. The kid always has his guard up, but he has already found a kindred soul in Enzo. It’s one thing I have struggled with. I was always a hyper child. If you ask my father, he would describe me as difficult while my aunt describes me as lively. I didn’t contemplate. I was always willing to take things at face value. Matteo isn’t like that. Watching as Matteo falls into a silent rhythm with Enzo is like taking a breath of relief. Someone understands him.
Enzo has a scale, and he’s showing Matteo how to measure out the ingredients for the crust. “Mommy doesn’t use a scale,” Matteo tells Enzo as he carefully watches the weight go up. He takes his time, watching the weight move up slowly as he adds more flour to the top.
“I’m a bit of a perfectionist with my pizza, so I need everything to be just right,” Enzo tells him as he directs Matteo to pour the flour into a bowl.
“What does that word mean? Perf-perfecus…”
“Perfectionist? It means I need everything to be just right. Kind of like Goldilocks.”
My heart thuds in my chest as I watch them. Enzo is patient with him. He answers every question Matteo throws at him with ease and doesn’t hurry him along. Despite his so-called perfectionism, he never loses patience when Matteo messes up.
Matteo isn’t an affectionate child, at least not with anyone other than me. Even with me, he quickly reaches his limit with touch. I’m not the only one affected by Enzo’s magnetic force because Matteo accepts his easy, casual affection and returns it in full force. He returns each high-five with enthusiasm, straightens his spine to meet Enzo’s hand when he reaches down to mess with his hair, and happily allows Enzo to maneuver and direct him.
When they finish making the dough, and Enzo tells Matteo they have to wait for the dough to rise, Matteo suggests we watch a movie while we wait.
Together. He wants us to watch a movie together.
Enzo agrees with Matteo, not looking for my approval. Why would he? I’m his prisoner. I follow along, not wanting to make a scene and disturb the peace Matteo is feeling.
We all settle into the couch and I have to hold back a sob of relief when Matteo cuddles into my side. I almost expected him to abandon me in his excitement. He’s already becoming attached to Enzo. That’s another danger I hadn’t accounted for.
And Matteo doesn’t know who Enzo is yet.
Matteo noticed our family wasn’t like other families. Most of his friends had two parents, whether that be a mom and a dad, two moms, or two dads. Sometimes, they also had step-parents or grandparents who lived with them. Matteo never questioned it until he met a little girl who had lost her mom.