Chapter Twenty-Seven

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I'm tucking away Matteo's birthday present when I hear the door to the bedroom open. I quickly straighten by the bed, shutting the nightstand drawer as he enters the room, still in his tuxedo from a show.

"How did things go?" I ask, glancing at the package that's waiting for him on the desk. He shakes his head, walking over to kiss me, undoing his bowtie. He looks tired.

"Everyone was off today, but other than that, fine. I'm going to have to schedule another rehearsal before the next show." He breathes in, clasping my waist, rubbing gently. "It will only be one... I'll make sure it only lasts a few hours."

I nod. "I still want you to do your work well, Matteo. I'm not forbidding you of that. I just want you to be around more. It's been really nice having you here."

He grins pleasantly. "I like being here."

"Can I ask you something?"

He nods. "Of course."

I look at the box on the desk, pointing. He follows my hand. "That package is from Poulsbo, Washington. Is that where you are from?"

The ghostly color that seeps his face says it all. It is. He backs up, letting me go. "When did you get this?"

"Just today."

I come up behind him as he grabs it. "I don't know what it could be."

I hand him the scissors from the desk. "Why don't you open it?"

He's takes them, after a moment, clearing his throat. I wait as he slides the blade through the middle of the tape, exhaling deeply. He's clearly nervous. So am I. I have been all day.

"I don't know if I want to open this, Em," he whispers, setting the scissors onto the desk again. I swallow, smiling gently.

"Do you... want me to?"

He clears his throat. "Um, please."

I reach into the box, glancing at him as he removes his tuxedo jacket, turning. I pull out an envelope first. It's addressed to Matteo.

"It's a letter, I think," I breathe, opening it. "Do you want me to read it... or you?"

He sits on the bed, sighing. "You."

Carefully, I unfold the paper out to normal size and begin softly.

Dear Matteo,

If you're reading this, it means I've already passed. I gave this to a friend. I'm glad they sent it to you. If you're reading this, you've probably also gotten news that I've left my son, Charles to you. I bet you have so many questions. I bet you were completely furious and confused... especially after how we left things in your apartment.

I knew I didn't deserve to be heard, but I had no one else to turn to. I had friends of course, but none I trusted to love my baby as he should be. You have gone through so much heartache, from your parents passing, from living on the streets. I know I caused much of your hurt and I am taking a large leap of faith asking you to take and care for Charles.

I know you're not a cruel man. You're hurt, but not cruel. I want Charles to grow up with someone that shares his blood, someone that can tell him what his mother looked like, what his grandparents were like.

I never told you this, but your parents, well they always knew you'd make something of yourself. It wasn't your persistence to leave this small town but your overwhelming talent and drive. The last time I spoke to your mother, she was crying. She told me of the fights you were having, how she couldn't reach you anymore. She told me how much she wished you would let God into your life, and I, like you, laughed. I've never been religious, Matteo, as you probably know. I mean, what kind of religious person would do what I've done to you, take what I have from you? But, as I lie here, with not an inch of hair on my body, without the strength to stand from this bed to play with my son, I tell you that I wish I did believe. I really do.

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