Abby’s POV
My heart gave a stupid, traitorous little flutter at the word “husband.” It felt heavy and real in a way “fiancé” never had with Nicholas.
Nicholas was a performance; Matteo felt like a command.
Me: Bossy.
M.Roman: Goodnight, Mrs. Romano.
I stared at those last words for a long time, the chaos of the Sinclairs and the Andersons fading into the background.
For the first time since I woke up in this timeline, I felt a strange sense of calm.
I wasn’t fighting this war alone anymore.
I turned off the phone, clutched it to my chest, and for the first time in two lifetimes, I fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, I skipped breakfast.
There was no way I was sitting at that table with my fake family.
I finished my shower, dressed quickly, and went straight downstairs, expecting to wait.
I got to the foyer at 7:50 AM, but he was already there, standing as if he owned the place.
My eyes widened.
“You’re early.”
He grinned, hands resting casually in his pockets.
“I was playing golf nearby,” he said.
“Wrapped up early.”
I nodded.
There was a private golf club near the estate.
“Well, let’s go then.”
As we walked out, he noticed I was only carrying my purse and one small gift bag.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Thought most girls loved going on shopping sprees?”
I chuckled.
“Not all girls are shopaholics. Spending wisely matters more.”
He gave a slight, fair enough shrug and wisely dropped the topic.
He led the way to the driveway.
Today, he’d driven a sleek, understated Maybach.
My 25-year-old memory pricked.
From what I knew of his reputation, he was famous for his love of flashy sports cars; he had a rare collection.
It was unusual to see him in anything else.
Matteo walked over to the passenger side and opened the door for me.
As I bent down to get in, he held a hand up by the door frame, a true gentleman. The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Thanks,” I said, glancing up at him with a small smile.
Right then, he suddenly leaned down, way into my space, trapping me between his body and the car.
I stiffened, caught completely off guard, my back pressed against the seat.
Staring at Matteo’s unexpectedly close and striking face, I froze.
Wait…
what is he doing?
His eyes were steady and deep, and he wasn’t moving.
Noticing my nervous vibe, he gave a slow, deliberate blink, his face inching even closer.
Our faces were dangerously close.
I held my breath, my heart beating so fast!
Sure, I’d teased this man before—but that was when I had the upper hand, when I was in control.
Now, with him taking the initiative, my mind went totally blank.
I didn’t even know how to respond.
Then came a crisp click.
The sound of the seatbelt being fastened snapped me back to reality.
I turned and saw his amused face just inches away, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating in his throat.
It made my cheeks burn.
“Mrs. Romano,” he asked, his voice a teasing purr as he finally backed away, giving me space, “were you nervous?”
But to me, that smile of his?
Yeah, it looked especially smug right now.
Still smiling, he reached out and, with an infuriating gentleness, smoothed a stray strand of my hair back from my face before heading around to the driver’s side.
As he started the car, the powerful engine purring to life, he glanced over and asked, “The River Café sound good?”
My eyebrows shot up.
The River Café wasn’t just a restaurant; it was an institution.
It was a quiet, tucked-away icon, super popular with New York City’s elites for its insane privacy and secluded vibe.
Table bookings were nearly impossible without weeks of notice, not days.
I nodded, impressed despite myself.
“I’m good with whatever.”
“Oh, right,” I said, eager to shift the focus from my burning cheeks.
“This is for you.”
He looked intrigued.
I opened the bag and carefully pulled out a dainty wind chime.
Each tiny bell was shaped like a delicate white flower.
I held it up between us.
“It can hang in the car.
As a decoration…
or for good luck.
Want me to put it up?”
After he’d left last night, I’d found myself thinking about his “I will protect her” vow.
Wind chimes are meant to ward off bad energy and protect a space.
This car…
and this man…
they felt like my new safe house.
It just felt right.
He glanced at the delicate flowers, and his smug expression softened into a genuine, warm smile.
“Sure.”
I looked around and found the perfect spot, looping the string over the post of the rearview mirror.
It was small enough that it wouldn’t obstruct his view.
I gave it a little flick with my finger, and a tiny, clear tink-tink-tink sound filled the car.
“What do you think?
Like it?”
“I do.” His smile widened, and my own heart felt a little lighter.
I smiled back.
Before long, we arrived at The River Café.
A server, clearly expecting us, led us immediately upstairs to a private room with a stunning, sweeping view of the skyline.
He handed me the menu.
“You pick.”
I took it, but I didn’t agonize.
My 25-year-old self knew exactly what she wanted.
I quickly selected a few breakfast items and closed the menu.
“I’m done.”