He says, “You’re not a problem. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I was ten years old.”
The breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh that feels like two giant invisible hands clasped me front and back and squeezed. “Oh,” I say, trying not to fall over. “Um. What happened when you were ten years old?”
“My mother finally bought me the puppy I’d been begging for. A Great Dane, like Cornelia. I named her Maria, after my favorite opera singer. I loved her with all my heart. She slept in my bed every night, even when she grew too big for it. I’d scoot all the way to the edge so she’d have room.”
His voice is raw and his eyes are shining, and my heart is bursting at the seams. I think of how Cornelia spooned me, and imagine Matteo as a little boy cuddling with his dog in his bed in t
