We've been in the air for over an hour. Matteo has barely uttered a word since we hastily left the cabin, leaving my family questioning the purpose of our unscheduled departure, which we refrained from telling them. He's staring intently out the window, noticeably lost in thought.
We both are, understandably.
His aunt is dead. That's all he's told me. The questions are endless.
How did she die?
Where is her son?
Why the hell does Matteo have to go see a lawyer?
***
I walk into the apartment behind him, watching as he silently sets down the luggage.
I can't take the silence anymore. "Can you tell me something, anything?"
"I don't know anything, Em. I'm just as in the dark as you are."
"Did he say what she died from?"
"I didn't ask. He just told me that he needed to speak with me about matters pertaining to her."
"You weren't in contact with her, right?"
He shakes his head and walks toward the living room, running his hands through his hair. His silence makes me nervous.
"You're keeping something from me, Matteo."
"No, I'm not. I haven't spoken to her since that day I forced her and the kid out of the apartment."
I lean against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "You don't think..."
"That she had me down as a next of kin?" he finishes for me with a dark chuckle. "The thought has passed through my head more than once today."
I let out a nervous breath, suddenly feeling very sick for her little boy, and for Matteo, who has to confront the fact that his aunt's last wishes could very well change his life forever. For his sake, I hope there is someone else to take in this child. After everything that Matteo has been through in this past year, the struggle he's endured, I'm not sure what this will do to him.
"I can't even believe this," he says. "God, I hope it's just to cover her funeral."
I swallow, braving his wrath to say what we've both been thinking for an entire flight and taxi ride to this apartment, what has to be said. "What if it's not?"
He looks at me as though I've grown an extra head. "I don't even want to think of that."
"You have to. What if she left this child to your care?"
"Then, I tell them no. And they find someone else to give him to. I'm not father material, Emma. I'm barely boyfriend material, for fucks sake."
"That's not true."
"It is and you know it. It's why you're looking at me like that. You know I can't do this."
"Matteo, you can do anything you set your mind to!"
There's a gentle knock at the door. It pierces the air, our tense atmosphere. I hold my hand over my beating heart, rubbing as Matteo answers the door, clearing his throat tellingly before greeting the man. The lawyer is carrying a large, leather briefcase, dressed in a brown polyester suit that would have been fashionable... in the seventies. With a kind smile, he holds his arm out as Matteo leads him to me.
"This is Emma, my girlfriend," Matteo introduces.
"Rory Elwes," the man states with a firm nod. "Nice to meet you."
"You too."
"Well, I don't want to take too much of your time. I do know you were celebrating a birthday... I had been trying to get ahold of you for a few days, but the trip explains it."
"Please have a seat," Matteo says, gesturing to the living room.
"Alright."
Matteo reaches out for me as we file behind him into the living room and I take his hand eagerly, joining him on the couch. We watch the lawyer sit in the opposite loveseat, popping open his briefcase.
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Giordano. Your aunt spoke highly of your talents. You are on Broadway?"
"I am." Matteo shifts uncomfortably. "I feel I have to tell you. I didn't speak with my aunt. I didn't keep in touch with her."
"Yes, she told me." He sets down documents on the coffee table.
"When is her funeral?"
"She opted to be cremated with her ashes spread behind her house. It was a small ceremony two days ago. The town held the service. I'm sorry. I couldn't find a way to reach you."
Matteo shakes his head dismissively. "How did she die?"
"It was lung cancer." He looks momentarily confused. "I thought you were informed of this? She came here right after the will was made. I'm going to say a year and a half ago, when she found out the tumor was malignant?"
Matteo's face goes white. His fingers painfully squeeze mine.
That's why she came... that's why she was so persistent to speak with him.
Matteo is on his feet in seconds. "Yes, well, no, she didn't tell me... I wouldn't see her."
"Oh, she didn't tell me that."
"She and I... we didn't have a good relationship."
"Really?"
"You look surprised," I observe, tilting my head curiously.
"Well, I'm obligated to tell you that she listed Matteo as the person to take her son Charles in the event of her death."
No. I place my hand to my head, feeling faint.
Matteo chuckles then, holding up his hands. "No, that isn't possible."
"It is."
"I have a history! It's dark. Last year, I was in the hospital—"
"I am aware."
"And this is still a possibility?"
"Matteo, please, sit down."
"No, I can't sit down," Matteo snaps. His hands are shaking. He's losing it. I wait for him to look at me, but he doesn't.
I scoot forward, finding my throat has tightened with fear. "Is there anyone else that Charles can go to? You see, Matteo doesn't have any experience with children..."
"We have done extensive research, taken the most precautions. There is no other kin. The father has been DOA since before the birth. We've tried to locate him but have had no luck. Her parents—your grandparents—as you probably know have been deceased for years."
"Friends?"
"You were the sole next of kin listed, Mr. Giordano. She insisted Charles be with family."
Matteo looks ghostly, faint. Fearing he's going to collapse right here on the hardwood, I rise out of the seat. "Will you excuse us for a moment, Mr. Elwes?"
"Of course. Take your time," Rory whispers, looking mortified. I open the door to the terrace and Matteo steps out into the crisp air, exhaling. As soon as I slide the door closed, he whirls around.
"Alright, I'm losing my cool here," he confesses, panicked. I walk up to him, clasping his face, forcing him to look into my eyes.
"It's going to be okay."
"Emma, Jesus, I can't do this. I can't. I can't be a father. A guardian, whatever the hell I'm supposed to be to this kid."
"He has no one else," I answer, running my hand over his hair. "Matteo, he's already probably been in the system for days now. He's probably so scared."
He stares at me, and I see the conflict. I see horror. I see fear. I see defeat.
"Jesus Christ," he whispers, shaking his head. I glance back into the window, seeing the lawyer turned, observing us. He turns when he knows he's been caught snooping.
"He's watching us, Matteo. We have to go back in."
He breathes deeply, sliding his hand into my own. All three of us are on edge as we head back to our original spot on the couch.
"Alright," I start, knowing Matteo probably can't talk. "How would this happen?"
"Charles has been in child protective services for over a week. I will get you granted to take him home if you accept."
"What happens if I don't?" Matteo asks hesitantly. "What happens to him?"
"He goes into the system."
"Foster care," Matteo rephrases. The lawyer nods.
"Yes, I'm sorry for laying this all on you. I was under the impression you had already agreed on this with Gwen."
"The courts would be foolish to give him to me. I've got a cloudy past and had an alcohol problem a year ago."
"Yes, that's going to be difficult." The lawyer shifts towards me in his seat, making me stiffen. "But when you mentioned a girlfriend, I looked into her records and saw nothing. An unblemished past."
"And what does that mean?"
"Well, it means—and this is only if you feel at the place to do this—the judge would probably favor the arrangement if you were legally connected. That way if something happened, she could also be listed as a legal guardian."
Matteo looks at me and then back to Rory, eyes wide. "I'm not asking her to do that! I can't even believe a judge would consider that."
"Almost any judge would prefer to see a child go with family rather than foster care, sir. You make good money. So does Miss Emma here. You live in a three-bedroom apartment in Park Avenue under her name. You both have successful jobs. No criminal history. Really, the only problem you have is the alcohol. And that could be cleared up if you provided another guardian into the situation, a person who doesn't have a record of substance abuse."
I stare at the man, now sunken into the cushions. My heart is leaping.
Matteo's a ghost beside me. "Well, you've given us a lot to think about. I need to speak with Emma before I make any decisions."
"I understand. Although I'd remind you that Charles is rather fragile right now and—"
"I will call you within the hour," Matteo cuts him off, surging to his feet. Rory finally gets it and stands, stuffing the documents into his briefcase. Matteo walks him to the door.
"I will wait for your call. Thank you for your time."
Closing the door, Matteo remains still, his head bowed. I stare at him from the couch, holding my breath. Our world has come crashing down our heads. The normalcy we've managed since he returned is no more.
In ten minutes, Matteo has become the guardian of a child.
No nine months to research. No time for an existential crisis or two.
Ten goddamn minutes and he's a father.
My jaw remains agape. "I don't even know... I can't even comprehend what he just said."
He doesn't answer me. Seconds tick by and then minutes and he gives me nothing. I stand up and approach him with noticeable hesitance. He turns before I can get close.
"I'm going to pack my things."
My neck nearly snaps as he walks for the bedroom, blinking through the shock. My legs move quickly, striding after him. "What the hell do you mean pack your things?"
"I'm not doing this to you, Emma," he grumbles, fishing his suitcase from the closet. "I'm not even going to give you the time to try and tell me that you are prepared to be a mother, a wife to me. I'm not going to corner you into this!"
"Look at me." The suitcase is open on the bed. Matteo crosses the room to the dresser, removing his belongings with zero grace and I begin to feel sick. "Matteo... Matteo!"
"I'm not going to do this to you," he whispers, it seems to himself. My lips begin to quiver, trying to quell the overwhelming panic rising in my chest. The events of today were hard enough. To watch him packing to leave me is damn near unbearable.
I can't imagine myself as a mother. I can hardly imagine myself as a wife.
I also can't imagine a life where I let this man go.
"Matteo, goddammit, LOOK AT ME!" I shout, tears flowing down my face. I try to swipe them away but they won't relent. Matteo stands with his stiff back to me, unmoving. As much as I wish I could be strong enough to handle this situation with grace and understanding, it seems impossible. I drop my face into my hands, releasing the torrent I'd been holding back.
I hear the drawer shut and within seconds, Matteo's hands are cradling the back of my head, his lips against my hair. I dig my face into his ridged body, fingers fisting the loose material of his shirt. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Emma. Don't cry."
"You can't leave. You can't."
"If I stay, everything changes. Your whole life, Emma. I will find a way to gain custody without forcing you into this. You don't need to feel obligated..."
"Obligated?" I pull back, eying him disbelievingly. "Are you serious right now?"
His features soften as he wipes my tears with his thumbs. "Do you understand what you'd be giving up? You're still young, a lot younger than I am. This child is my blood, not yours. You don't have to go through this."
"I will go through anything... anything if you are with me," I confess desperately. He drops his head down, looking broken. "Charles needs both of us. And I need you. If we have to get married like this, then I will do it. I'll do it tomorrow. I'll do it tonight."
"Emma."
My hands are everywhere. "I want this. I want you forever."
"This... isn't the way I expected to propose to you."
I sigh, shaking my head. "When has anything we've done gone according to plan?"
He pulls me closer, exhaling into my hair, releasing the tension in him with the breath. "Good point."