Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

I double-knot the laces on my sneaker. “No. I appreciate the offer, but I think Matteo might do better if it’s just me. You can be kind of distracting, no offense.”

He doesn’t laugh at my joke. “But I can be in another room. You know, just in case you need me like the other day.”

The memory of Santiago helping me during my breakdown makes my smile wobble.

I take a deep breath, pushing back my worry. “You live next door. If anything goes wrong, I can walk here in under a minute. I promise if I need you, I’ll call you.”

He runs a hand through his hair, forcing the strands to stand in different directions. “You’ll come back the moment things don’t feel right, won’t you?”

“If things don’t feel right.” Why is he so nervous? I’m not even that nervous, and I’m the one about to talk to Matteo after how everything went between us.

“Right. If.” His voice lacks his usual confidence.

“Hey.” I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, forcing him to stop his pacing. “You don’t have to be afraid. I accepted that this isn’t going to be an easy process, and that’s that.”

His body tenses. “What do you mean?”

“I get that Matteo needs to warm up to the idea of me. It’s not like he had any time to prepare for this like I did.”

“Right,” he whispers.

“Yes. It’s okay if he freaks out once or twice. I would if I were in his position. It’s to be expected.”

“Nothing about this is expected,” he grumbles under his breath.

I laugh. “I’ll be back soon! Relax.” I let go of him and walk toward the front door.

“Chloe,” he calls out.

I grip the handle and look over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

“No matter what he says, remember that I care about you, okay? You’ll always have a place here with me, and nothing he says will change that.”

A warmth spreads through my chest as his words sink in. The sweetness Santiago shares with me is something I could definitely get used to. It’s something I want to get used to, and that’s a first for me. I crave the kind of stability he can offer me. I crave him, period.

I grin at him. “I like this version of you.”

“And what version is that?”

“The one I’m falling in love with.” I slip out of the house, leaving a slack-jawed Santiago behind me.

Matteo opens his gate the moment I press the buzzer. I powerwalk up the driveway and knock on his front door. The stucco walls reflect a well-loved house, weathered after years of lakeside winds.

Matteo opens the door. His eyes slowly move from the ground up to my face. “Hi, Chloe. It’s nice to see you.”

“Hi,” I squeak.

“Why don’t you come on in?” He pushes the door wider and I follow him inside.

“You have a nice home,” I offer as I check out the framed pictures lining the walls. Countless photos of Giovanni over the years hang in a mindless pattern.

My eyes can’t stay on anything for too long because I want to soak it all in. This is the most insight I’ve had into my father besides our conversations at work and during dinners.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Matteo motions to a couch across from an old leather chair. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

I shake my head, doubting my ability to keep anything down. My nerves eat away at my cool facade as Matteo settles into the leather chair.

Matteo remains quiet. The big hand on an old-school cuckoo clock ticks, filling the silence with its steady rhythm.