Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)
Redeemed: Chapter 37

The faint sound of a strumming guitar wakes me up from my deep sleep. It’s a haunted melody I can’t place, but I replace myself entranced anyway.

I peek with one eye, replaceing Santiago sitting on a chair by the large window. The glow of the moon highlights the guitar propped up on his thigh. One hand grips the neck, delicately pressing against the strings.

I can’t believe he picked up his guitar again. After everything he said about avoiding music before, he is right here, playing in front of my very eyes.

Am I dreaming? I pinch my arm extra hard just in case. Nope, he’s still there.

The music stops as he looks over at me.

I shut my eyes and feign sleep.

He laughs to himself. “You don’t need to pretend. I can practically feel your eyes on me.”

I pop one eye open and assess his face. A ghost of a smile makes him seem youthful. Happy, even.

“Busted.” I hold the sheet to my chest as I sit up.

He chuckles under his breath. His hands begin moving again, filling the room with music. “Any requests?”

My eyes expand to the point of pain. “What?”

“Do you have a favorite song?”

“Me?” The question comes out as a whisper.

He dramatically looks around the room for someone else.

I throw a pillow at his head. It flops on the ground in front of him with an unsatisfying thump.

“Do you know how to play ‘XO’ by John Mayer?”

He strums the beginning chords of the song.

“Impressive. It’s like my own concert, right from the bed.” I sink back into the mattress, smiling over at him as he gets lost in the music.

His eyes shut and his hands move in the most bewitching way. The significance of him playing again isn’t lost on me. Santiago Alatorre reclaimed a part of his soul, and I never want him to lose it again.

“You first steam the milk, and then you pour it into the cup like this.” Matteo shows off his impressive skill of creating a flower out of coffee foam.

“You make it look easy.” I let out a huff.

He laughs. “Now you try.” He passes me a cup.

I attempt to recreate the same flower, but my design ends up looking more like a cactus.

“You’ll get it eventually.” He knocks his shoulder into mine. “It took me months before I mastered different designs.”

I step away and give him room to deposit our two cups of coffee in front of our only customers. He returns to the counter and starts cleaning the mess I made.

“I can do that. It’s my job.” I grab the rag from his hand.

“Oh, nonsense. I was cleaning long before you worked here, and I’ll be doing it after.”

I rear back. My sneakers squeak against the floor in my haste. “What?”

“Chloe”—he shakes his head—“you’re dating Santiago Alatorre. The fact that you’re working in this shop is shocking to begin with. If your dream is to own your own place, I’m sure he will set you up with whatever you want.”

“Umm, but I’m not ready for that. I still have so much to learn from you.”

“A baby bird never learns to fly if it’s too scared to leave the nest.”

Okay, Mr. Miyagi, settle down.

“Well, this baby bird still needs to learn some more from you. How can I start my own place if I still don’t know how to make dainty flowers out of fancy foam?”

“Well, the fall season is coming soon, and everything tends to slow down here.”

I stare around the empty shop, wondering what slow looks like.

Matteo smiles weakly. “And when it’s slow, I tend to work here less. I travel a bit. Visit some old friends across Europe.”

Oh, no. Is he seriously going to lay me off? He can’t do that. I’m not ready to lose this connection with him. Not after everything I’ve been through to get to this point of comfort with him.

He seems to take my silence as approval. “I plan on taking some time off in two weeks and closing the shop for a month.”

I choke on my sudden inhale of breath. “Two weeks? Closing shop?” Who can decide out of the blue to take a month off of work?

People who can pay their bills without skipping dinner for a week, Chloe.

He nods. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be around. And you always have a place to learn more from. But I wanted to tell you, that way you have time to replace other arrangements. There’s another shop on the opposite side of the lake with a great…” He continues speaking but none of his words resonate.

Frustration replaces my anxiety. I’ve spent the whole summer building up a relationship with him, hoping for the right moment to admit who I am. I can’t let him disappear into the Italian sunset before I’ve had my chance to talk to him. To confront him and share what he means to me. Maybe if I reveal myself, he will decide to stay and get to know me. For real this time, minus the distractions and false apprenticeship.

Desperation makes me stupid.

I cut him off. “What do you think of having dinner together to celebrate the end of the busy season?”

Matteo smiles. “I’d love that. And we can celebrate you replaceing your stride, baby bird. You’ve spent a summer under my wing, and it’s time for you to get out in the world.”

I nod, replaceing it difficult to speak with the lump in my throat.

This baby bird is about to fly out of the nest. Let’s hope I survive the fall because if I don’t, a broken neck would be merciful.

I throw myself on the couch, covering my eyes with the crook of my elbow.

Santiago drags my arm away from my face. “What’s wrong?”

I blink up at him, catching the frown on his face. “Matteo is firing me because the busy season is dying down; I haven’t made any progress in our relationship.” I spit out all the facts like word vomit.

“Maybe this is for the best.”

I bolt up from my position. “How can you say that?”

Santiago takes a seat beside me. “Because you’ve been putting this off for months already.”

I scowl. “Things like this take time.”

“And things like this take courage.”

“I’m courageous.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware. Not many people would’ve accomplished what you did to begin with.” He offers me a timid smile.

“Then what’s your point?”

“Chloe…” He grabs onto my hand and laces our fingers together. “You’ve been helping me, and it’s time I do the same.”

My eyes dart to the opposite side of the living room, focusing on the painting hanging above the brick fireplace.

He squeezes my hand, forcing me to focus back on him. “You need to tell him.”

“But what if he rejects me?”

“A wise and sassy woman taught me how things we fear the most are often worth overcoming because it’s not about the risk. It’s about the reward.”

“Who is this wise woman and where can I replace her?”

He cracks a smile. “Don’t let the opportunity slip away. You’ll end up regretting it, and that’s not your style.”

“Since when did you get all enlightened and stuff?”

“Since you came into my life.”

That feeling inside of me? Where my heart races and my chest grows uncomfortably tight? It’s not something I’ll forget in this lifetime. It feels a lot like love, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

Dammit, Santiago Alatorre.

My fork rattles against the ceramic plate as I push my dinner around in circles. Our goodbye dinner has been nothing but pleasant. With good conversations and great food, thanks to Santiago, it should be amazing to sit with my father. No distractions, no son blabbing away. Santiago isn’t even here vying for everyone’s attention since he left the house earlier to give me privacy.

Everything was set up to make tonight perfect, but in reality, this dinner is an epic fail. I can’t gather the courage to say what I need to. It’s like my tongue loses the will to move every time I think about speaking out.

Matteo takes a swig of wine, not a care in the world. “This dinner was incredible, Chloe. I appreciate you taking the time to do this for me.”

My stomach muscles clench. “Of course. I honestly couldn’t have done it without Santiago though. He cooked half of this.” Okay, he cooked all of it, but whatever.

“Well, you sure landed yourself a good man. If they can cook, keep them.”

“And if they can clean, marry them.”

Matteo laughs. “I see you’ve picked up on a few things besides my coffee skills during our time together.”

I struggle to smile. The tightness in my chest grows as I consider Matteo leaving me behind.

Matteo fumbles with his pocket. “And speaking of our time together…I think you deserve this after all you’ve done for the shop. I’ve never seen it look better.” He slides an envelope over the wooden dining table.

A mist covers my eyes as I assess the sealed envelope. Oh, God. Am I really going to cry because he is giving me money?

No, you’re going to cry because this is the first time a parent wants to take care of you rather than steal from you.

I blink away the tears in a rush, not wanting to scare Matteo. “I can’t accept that.”

“Of course you can. You barely made any money during the time you worked for me. And I’ve never had an employee work as hard as you. Not even my own son, and he owns part of the place.”

Despite the shitstorm of emotions brewing inside of me, I can’t neglect the sense of pride filling me up. Sibling rivalry at its finest. “I should be thanking you. Not many people would take a chance on teaching a random person their business secrets.”

Matteo smiles. “It was my pleasure, truly. Even if you can only make smiley foam faces in your cappuccinos.” He wipes his face and places his napkin on the table.

Is he leaving already? I eye the clock. Shit. It’s been an hour already.

My heart pounds in my chest, the speed picking up as Matteo rises from his chair.

This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. The very one I put off for months because I had no idea how to tell Matteo about myself.

“Matteo, wait.” My voice croaks.

The chair scrapes as he halts his movement and looks over at me.

“I have something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It might sound shocking, but it’s important.”

Okay, that was so not what I practiced saying in front of the mirror this morning.

“Yes, bambina?” Color drains from his cheeks.

Fuck. I’m already messing up. Rule number one of telling someone a shocking secret: Don’t warn them beforehand. “There’s no easy way to say this…”

“There won’t be if you say nothing.” A faint smile crosses his lips.

My wobbly return of a smile lands somewhere between a scowl and a look of constipation. “I took a genetic test, and I found out you’re my father.”

Now’s the moment Morgan Freeman drops the mic and exits my subconscious.