Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(25)
His brows lift. “Well, I could use help with one thing, but the pay isn’t great.”
I attempt to keep my nod to a normal level of enthusiasm. I’d accept working for free at this point because I’m willing to do just about anything to spend more time around him. “Sure. What is it?”
He explains the pay and how he needs help cleaning the shop every day because he messed up his back a few years ago. My excitement doesn’t falter when he passes me a rag and window cleaner. Spending time with Matteo is what I traveled all this way for. Who cares if I’m sweeping floors or making terrible coffee for unlucky patrons? As long as I get to be with him, I couldn’t care less about my job.
I plan on taking advantage of every second with him, even if it means living out a Cinderella fantasy. Who needs a fairy godmother when I have myself?
It takes two days of wiping windows, cleaning a gross bathroom, and mopping the sticky tile in silence before Matteo breaks the awkwardness.
“Where in America are you from?” He asks the simplest question, but it has my heart racing in my chest nonetheless.
“I was born in New York.” Maybe if I sprinkle facts here and there, he will get the hint.
“Ah, just like my mom. I used to go there every summer with my brother to visit her.” He clears his throat, focusing back on cleaning his coffee machine.
I can barely hear my own voice over the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. “So, what did you do in New York?” I wince at the desperation in my voice. Smooth, Chloe, smooth.
Matteo laughs. “Just about everything. My mom moved back to the States after she and my father divorced, so when my brother and I would visit, we tended to make the most of it.”
Does he remember sleeping with my mom? Will he be shocked to realize he has a child? I force my thoughts to slow down.
Matteo carries on with his business, ignoring how I’m stuck in place, staring at him. My brain screams to attack him with more questions. But something tells me to hold off because I don’t want to make him suspicious of me.
“And is this where you lived the other parts of the year?”
“Yeah. My father was born and raised here. He started this shop himself.” Matteo looks around the store, smiling.
“Wow. That’s incredible.” I appreciate the shop in a new light, knowing it’s been passed down by each generation.
“Well, I know this town is smaller than one New York city block, but I love the people and the quiet.”
“You’ve got that right. I’m still getting used to walking past the same people every morning and having them smile at me. In New York, if I smiled at a stranger, they might call the cops on me for suspicious behavior.”
Matteo laughs. It’s a full and hearty sound, with his eyes crinkling.
My jaw drops open, and a sudden urge hits me to confess who I am. I could drop this disguise and spend some real time getting to know him in a daughter-father way. But I rationalize that our relationship needs to be taken slowly rather than me plunging headfirst. I recover from my temporary lapse in judgment and solidify my need to hold back.
He collects himself. “Do you like it here?”
I consider his question and how the past week has been the wildest thing out of my imagination. From crashing into someone else’s life to working for my father without him knowing it, nothing about my experience has been typical. Even the ancestry kit working itself out has me questioning where all this good fortune was throughout my life. It’s like turning twenty-four meant all the parts of my life would align after years of loneliness and disappointment.
I settle on something a little more subdued. “It might make me sound crazy, but this town feels like it has a bit of magic.” Him. The people. Santiago.
Matteo nods his head. “Magic is everywhere and in everything. People only have to believe in it for it to work. If you notice it, then embrace it because that’s what makes us dreamers.”
My dad speaking about us as a duo has my lungs burning from a sudden inhale of breath. I want there to be an us so freaking badly, I’m willing to bottle up all the magic in this damn town and hoard it. But not everything is meant to be contained, and magic isn’t the exception to the rule.
11
Santiago
I spend a whole week somehow keeping Marko entertained within the confines of my house. To be honest, my sister failed to warn me that the kid is cute but a human wrecking ball. I’ve never spent this long babysitting him and I’m starting to see why. By the eighth day of his stay, he’s already painted my walls with every crayon in his arsenal and pissed more times outside of the toilet than in. I’ve been doing laundry around the clock to keep up with all the food that lands on his body, and my couch has become a prime example of what happens when kids are given adult glasses instead of sippy cups.
Desperate to help Marko expel some energy after dinner, I take him on a much-needed visit to the lakeside park. I could also use something to calm myself down too because I can’t put my mind to rest lately. If I’m not considering checking the email with Noah’s proposal, then I’m thinking about Chloe and what she’s up to during our time apart. It’s like the two of them worked together to wreak havoc on my head over the past couple of days.