Page 66 of Forgotten Vows

"We're safe." I pull him against me, holding him close. "I promise you, Matteo. We're safe here."

"But what if?—"

"No what-ifs." I kiss the top of his head. "Lachlan is going to keep us safe. He's not going to let anything happen to us."

Matteo is quiet for a moment. "Is he really my dad?"

My chest squeezes, but I take a breath, staying calm. "Yes," I say softly. "He is."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I couldn't." I pull back so I can see his face. "Uncle Gio wouldn't have let me. And I was afraid of what he would do if he found out."

"But you're not afraid anymore?"

"I'm still afraid," I admit. "But I'm trying not to be. And Lachlan—your father—he's going to help us. He's going to make sure we're okay."

Matteo nods slowly. "He seems nice," he says finally. "When he's not being scary."

I can't help but smile at that. "Yeah. He can be both."

"Do you love him?"

The question is so direct and innocent that it takes my breath away. "Yes," I say softly, because it's the truth. "I do."

"Did you always love him?"

"Yes." My throat is tight. "Even when I thought I'd never see him again. Even when it hurt too much to think about him. I always loved him."

Matteo considers this, and then he says, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." He looks up at me. "If you love him, then I guess it's okay." He pauses. "I thought Uncle Gio was telling the truth. But if he came with guns and scared us, then maybe not."

"He wasn't." I pull Matteo closer. "Lachlan isn't trying to hurt us. He maybe didn't go about it the best way, but he is trying to help. And Uncle Gio is lying." I lean back, cupping Matteo's chin in my hand. "Whatever happens, remember that. He's not telling the truth. And I love you, and your father does too."

Matteo nods seriously. "Okay, Mama."

I lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head. "It's going to be okay," I whisper, hoping desperately that it's true. We sit like that for a few moments, and then Matteo pulls away.

"Can we have pancakes for breakfast again?" he asks, and just like that, he's a nine-year-old boy again, thinking about food instead of complicated adult emotions.

"I think we can arrange that." I stand up, holding out my hand. "Come on. Let's go see what we can find."

—

Lachlan is alreadyin the kitchen when we get there, and I'm struck by how domestic the scene is. He's standing at the stove, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders, and he'smaking coffee. He looks up when we come in, and the smile that crosses his face when he sees us makes my heart skip.

"Morning," he says, and his eyes linger on me for a moment before moving to Matteo. "How'd you sleep, buddy?"

Matteo shrugs, moving closer to me. "Okay."

"Just okay?" Lachlan's voice is gentle, and I can see him trying to figure out how to connect with his son. "Bad dreams?"

Matteo nods, and Lachlan's expression softens. "I get those too sometimes," he says. "They're not fun."

"You do?" Matteo sounds surprised.