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)
Parenting isn’t about the material things you can provide for them. It’s about safety, security, and love.
On one of the living room walls, there’s a collection of photos of Matteo and I. I didn’t have professional photos of him taken when he was a newborn, opting to do them myself. A professional probably could have done better, but I’m glad we had that moment between the two of us. Otherwise the wall is lined with selfies taken from a cell phone of the two of us, the few photos takes by friends or my aunt, and photos from the one time I paid a professional.
Next he looks at the fridge, which is covered in his art projects from preschool, and the pictures he has drawn for me. I plan on packing all of those in a carry-on. I couldn’t care less about the furniture or cookware, it’s not like I need any of that at Enzo’s house, but these drawings are precious beyond value.
“Cozy.”
I roll my eyes at Enzo’s description. Cozy is probably the nicest thing he could think to say. It’s the rich man’s way of saying small without sounding rude.
“Want to see my room?” Matteo asks Enzo, tugging on his pant leg to get his attention.
“I would love to.” Enzo takes the hand Matteo offers him and Matteo pulls him into his bedroom. Both the bedrooms are about the same in size and neither one has an ensuite, so I don’t think you can call either the master. Mine has a larger closet space, but other than that, they’re equal.
His room here isn’t as nice as the one we’ve set up in New York, but I think I did a good job with it. At Matteo’s request, three of the walls are dark green. I broke it up by doing an accent wall with a dinosaur wallpaper. It might not land me in an interior design magazine, but I still remember Matteo’s face when he saw it for the first time.
My room is plain in comparison. A double bed pressed up against the wall and a desk that’s hardly used. It’s easier to do my homework out in the living room when Matteo is still awake. I only use the desk when I’m studying after he has gone to bed.
While Matteo gives Enzo the tour, mainly showing off his favorite books and stuffed animals, I head into my bedroom to pull down clothes from the closet. A lot of the clothes I haven’t worn in years and I decide to make a pile of clothes I’m taking, and to donate the rest before I leave.
I should probably donate the furniture too. There’s no need for my bed at Enzo’s place.
Arms slide around my waist and I glance at Enzo. “Matteo is sorting through his toys. He wants to leave some with his friends at the preschool so they remember him.”
I snort. I can’t picture Matteo willingly giving up his toys, and I don’t know how to tell him we aren’t going to his preschool. There’s no convincing a toddler once they have their mind set on something, so I’ll just pack those toys away in a different box. In a month, he’ll completely have forgotten he’s ‘given them away’ and will want to play with them.
“By the way, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”
I scowl at him, and he chuckles and gives me a kiss. This easy affection is new. Ever since our date, he’s been finding reasons to touch me. Small kisses. Holding my hand. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s easier to reconcile the fact we’ve slept together, because sex can be emotionless. I’m sure it is for Enzo. These little touches, the constant need to be in contact with me, don’t feel emotionless.
It feels easier to take the kiss farther. As if pushing him to make it more sensual would eliminate the emotions attached to the kiss. So I chase his lips with my own and part them, inviting his tongue into my mouth. Enzo doesn’t object. With the invitation readily offered, he fists my hair in his hand and pulls my head back. I let out a low gasp and grab onto his shirt to pull him closer to me.
“I wasn’t jealous,” I tell him, trying my best not to sound breathless as I push him away from me. His kisses leave me lightheaded, but his ego doesn’t need to hear it.
“I don’t have eyes for anyone but you.”
I hold back my scoff of disbelief. From what I’ve seen, he was serious when he told me his family doesn’t do mistresses. Either that, or they’re very good at hiding them. His father is head over heels in love with his mother, and even in the arranged marriage between Andy and Bianca, Andy claims in the early days when they could barely stand the sight of each other, he would have never slept with anyone else. That doesn’t mean Enzo has suddenly gone blind. The flight attendant was gorgeous. Besides, we aren’t married yet. The men of the Lombardi family might not step out on their wives, but do they give the same courtesy before marriage?