Page 24 of Good as Gold
This must be exactly what Zara does, too, because quickly Micah arranges himself in my arms and grabs for the bottle. And as soon as the nipple reaches its target, he begins to suck avidly.
Then he lets out a little sigh of contentment that makes my heart explode.
One time, when Rory and I were having yet another discussion about kids, he asked me point blank why I wanted a baby. “I know it’s a thing that people want. Butwhy? I’m not trying to be a dick. I just legit don’t understand it.”
It was harder to explain than I’d expected—especially since Rory isn’t a fan of what he callswoo-woo talk.
The answer has something to do with the way I see life as a great circle. I was once a child like this, in my mother’s arms. I don’t remember it, but I know in my heart that it’s true, and that it made me who I am.
We all leave this Earth. Before that happens, I need to do this for my own child. I want to hold her and feed her and tell her that she’s loved.
I don’t know why. I just do.
Meanwhile, Micah grips his bottle in two chunky little hands, and sucks gustily from the nipple. Like a little vacuum cleaner.
“Hey.” Matteo stops in the doorway, his hair at seventy different angles, his eyes sleepy. And his abs are ripplingagain. “You could have poked me. Didn’t mean to make you get up first.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I make myself look away from all that golden skin. For years I didn’t even glance at other men, because Rory was always so jealous.
But this is not the right moment to rediscover my libido. Just because I haven’t had sex for a year doesn’t mean my best friend wants me drooling on him.
He is, I guess, still one of my best friends—not an ex-friend. I don’t need any more exes in my life. One is plenty.
“Just started the coffee pot.” Matteo shuffles over to the sofa and leans over us. He brushes one big hand over the baby’s feathery hair. “Good morning, fella. You must be a morning person. Want some coffee?”
“He’s a little young for that.” I give him a playful kick in his muscular calf.
“I meant you, goofus.” He slides his palm over my hair, too. His hand is warm, and the sensation makes me want to close my eyes and lean into his touch. But he’s already heading for the kitchen to see if the coffee is done.
I watch him go, and I’m definitely not focused on his firm backside, or the way his back muscles taper to a V at his hips.
Nope. Not me.
“Miss Leila!” an awed little voice says from the stairs. “You’re here! In myhouse!” Nicole comes trotting down the staircase in pink pajamas. “Can we read a story?”
“Of course.”
She bounds over to the bookshelf and chooses a collection of fairy tales. Then she climbs up onto the sofa beside me. “How ’boutThe Twelve Dancing Princesses?”
“That’s a fun one. Can you find the story by yourself?”
“Yup.” She starts flipping pages.
Matteo returns with two coffee mugs just as Micah pops off the bottle and begins to wiggle. “Looks like you got your hands full, there. Let’s do a trade.” He sets both mugs down on the end table beside the sofa. Then he takes the baby from my arms.
And now I’m watching a ripped, shirtless man cuddle a baby. And my ovaries don’tactuallyexplode, but I’m certain they’re whimpering a little.
“Do I have to burp him or something?” he asks.
“You could pat him on the back,” I say, reaching for my coffee. “But at his age, he can probably get the job done by himself.”
Matteo begins patting Micah’s back, and the little guy lets rip with a tremendous belch almost immediately.
“Good man,” Matteo says. “Taking care of business.”
I sip my coffee, noting that there’s a splash of milk in it, just the way I like it. Can’t believe he remembered that.
“Found it!” Nicole announces. She snuggles close to me. “Once upon a time,” she prompts.
