Before I can answer, he moves around the couch and drops into a crouch in front of me, wincing as he does. I’m still frozen, caught between terror and disbelief.
It’s him.
Mateo.
My husband.
He lifts his hand and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and that small, tender motion breaks something open inside me. No one else ever touches me like that.
He pulls me forward until our foreheads touch, grounding me, anchoring me, and then his lips find mine in a soft, trembling kiss. A single tear slips down my cheek.
“How the hell did you get home?” I whisper.
He smiles softly. “Your new best friend saved my ass.”
I stare at him. “So he told you he’s been the one putting up with my shit this whole time?”
Before anything else can be said, I grab his arm and start looking him over, searching for blood, scars—anything. “How bad were your injuries?”
“Nothing. Just some cuts and bruises. The hospital kept me under for a few days to make sure I healed.”
“Don’t lie to me.” My voice sharpens. “They don’t sedate someone for cuts and bruises.”
He exhales slowly. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“Scare me?” My voice cracks. “I’ve been terrified for almost a year. I’m allowed to be pissed.”
Victoria gurgles beside me. “Well, hello, baby girl,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to her while his hand stays on my cheek. “Can I?”
“Can you what?”
“Hold her.”
“You don’t need to ask. She’s your daughter too.” I laugh softly.
He steps closer, standing over her. “I don’t know how to hold her. I don’t want to drop her.”
There he is, the man I love. Not pretending to know everything. Just honest.
“Well, first of all, she isn’t a newborn anymore, so you don’t have to worry about her being that fragile.”
“Were they small?” he asks quickly.
“Huh?”
“When they were born… were they small?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Julian was five pounds, eight ounces. Victoria was five pounds, four ounces. Pretty average for twins.”
“Okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
He sits beside her, and I gently lift her up and place her in his arms.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he murmurs.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You were being held hostage in another country.”
“Did Gino tell you they found me?”
