"Everyone needs taking care of,tesoro." She patted his cheek affectionately. "Even stubborn sons who think they know everything."
We left her house, and we were quiet when we came back to Matteo’s home. We settled on the terrace, each holding glasses of wine. The night was warm, the stars impossibly bright. I leaned against Matteo's shoulder, his arm around me, and felt something settle in my chest.
Peace. That's what this was. Pure, uncomplicated peace.
"Bella."
I looked up. He was watching me, his expression soft and open and vulnerable.
"Ti amo."
The words were quiet. Italian. But I recognized them.
"What?"
"I love you." He said it in English this time, his eyes never leaving my face, steady and sure. "I love you, Isabelle."
My heart stumbled. Stopped. Started again with a painful lurch.
I should say it back. The words were right there, pressing against my teeth.
But they wouldn't come.
Instead, I grinned. Wide and helpless and probably stupid-looking.
"Come on." I stood, pulling him up with me. "Take me to bed."
His eyes searched my face for a moment. Then he smiled and let me lead him inside.
Later—much later—we lay tangled together in the dark, our breathing slowly returning to normal. His hand traced lazy patterns on my back writing messages I couldn't read.
"I love you," he murmured against my hair, so soft I almost missed it.
I kissed him instead of answering. Deep and thorough, pouring into it everything I couldn't say, everything I wasn't brave enough to voice.
He didn't ask for the words. Just held me closer and let me fall asleep in his arms.
Morning came soft and golden.
I woke up with my head on Matteo's bare chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. He was already awake, one hand in myhair, the other was tracing down my arm. Slow, absent. The way you touch something precious without thinking about it.
"Matteo."
"Mm?"
I took a breath. The question had been sitting in my chest all night, growing heavier with every passing hour. "About what you said. Last night."
His hand stilled on my arm. "What about it?"
"I..." I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. "I care about you. So much it scares me. But I?—"
"You didn't say it back."
I shook my head. "No."
He was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he sat up too, turning to face me with patient eyes. "Can I ask why?"
"I'm trying to be careful." The words came out smaller than I intended, vulnerable. "With my heart. I've been hurt before, and I just... I need to protect myself."
