I'm packing my bags angrily when the door opens. It's been fifteen minutes and I'm in worse shape than I was when I initially came in here. Charles things are on the bed beside mine, ready to go. Matteo can pack his own shit.

I feel him before I see him. "Your mother has Charles. I told everyone to stay for the rest of the night... I didn't tell them."

I set my wedding gown onto the bed, feeling angrier looking at it.

"Emma, I know you are furious at me right now, but think for a second. I found out about this two days after your miscarriage, one day after you came home from the hospital."

I tilt my head over my shoulder, pinning my gaze onto him sharply. He's still in his swim trunks, red ones, no shirt. His hair is wavier than usual after drying with sea water in it. I throw up my arms, unloading. "You knew for weeks. Weeks! Every day you didn't tell me this, Matteo, you were lying to me!"

"I wasn't lying. I was omitting the truth in order to make sure you were safe. I was going to tell you, of course, but at the right time!"

I chuckle, shaking my head, too frightened at the prospect of losing Charles to want to listen to his excuses.

"Emma, do you honestly think I wanted to deal with this on my own? Do you think it's been easy for me? I've been trying to make sure you're safe and healing, that I don't slack at work, that Charles is getting the attention he needs, all while finding out that we're about to go to fucking court too!" I breathe in, pressing my hands to my hips. He holds out his hand, stopping me from talking. "I made a decision, a difficult one because I had to. You fucking know everything about me. You know I didn't want to keep this to myself. And if I'm being completely honest, I don't regret not telling you! Your safety is everything to me and I will not apologize for this. I won't!"

I shake my head, scoffing, tears falling easily out of my eyes. "Are you done?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Emma," he snaps, running a hand through his hair in aggravation. "It's not like you to be irrational. Please don't start now."

"Do you understand how bad this could be? DO YOU? That baby is ours. It's mine. No one else's! I don't care if he came from him!"

"I know! What do you think I've been trying to figure out? I don't want him to take Charles either!"

I turn, zipping up my bag. "We should have never come here. We should have never done this. This could ruin everything."

"Don't say that," he breathes, coming up behind me. "Emma." I move away from him, stiffly. "Please, Emma!"

"I trusted you!"

He grabs my arms and pulls me to him roughly. "Emma, look at me."

I can't. My head dangles. So, he reaches for my face. He forces me to look into his eyes.

"I did what I did for only one reason. I kept this to myself for one goddamn reason and that is because I love you. I wanted to spare you as long as I could, try to fix this myself. It didn't work... and now I need you. We need each other."

I grab his wrists and pull them from my face, too pissed to remain this close. His words don't mean a thing right now. "We need to go."

                                                            ***

I watch from the jet as Matteo speaks to my parents, handing them the group's new flight details. They tried to pry the bad news from me but I remained tight lipped, not wanting to ruin the rest of their vacation. They've just gotten to know Charles. I can't even imagine having to tell them they won't see him again.

Charles is asleep on my chest, his thumb tucked between his pink lips. I run my hand gently over his hair, breathing in with difficulty.  I can't lose him. I can't lose two of them. He calls me mommy. He calls Matteo daddy.

Isn't that enough to be able to keep him? Don't we have any rights?

Matteo enters the small cabin, a suffocating small room and I hear the door seal closed. I turn to the window as he sits down directly across from me, dressed in a white dress shirt with rolled sleeves and dark jeans.

I feel his gaze but resist looking at him.

Apart of me, the part that is trying to rationalize wants to blow this under the rug, focus on the bigger problem here. But right now, it's not the rational side that's taken over. I feel betrayed. I feel like he couldn't trust me with the truth. He spent months struggling to let this child in. All that time I devoted myself to someone else's baby.

I turned my life upside down to be repaid with this.

I would understand if he waited a few days to tell me about this, but weeks? I've been in the dark for weeks? I deserved to know, to prepare myself for this chaos.

This wasn't his secret to keep.

                                                            ***

When we land, we head straight to the apartment. It's after sundown, but Rory is already waiting outside our apartment. Matteo gets him water as I set Charles down to sleep. After the rough flight over, he barely stirs when I lay him down for the night.

Matteo and Rory are already seated in the living room. The city lights of the skyline are bright outside the windows. I walk to the couch, sitting down at the opposite end of the couch. Rory notices. Matteo looks down at his feet.

"So, Rory, can you tell me everything that's happened?"

Matteo scoffs. "Emma, I said I'd tell you everything."

"You got to hear it from our lawyer, Matteo. Now, it's my turn," I reply, looking back at Rory, who glances between us uncomfortably. He gapes, trying to find words.

"Eddie Castano hired a lawyer a few months ago after seeing an article on the both of you. Charles was in it, and it described Matteo's adoption of his cousin. They made sure to have a full-proof case before contacting me. I then contacted Matteo, we got together, devised a plan. You do have a lot of pros on your side... the letter from Gwen stating she wanted Matteo to take on the role of guardian. Not to mention that this guy has been off the grid for years, the fact that you were already granted custody and went through a great deal to get him. You've passed every surprise visit from CPS. You aren't at a total loss here."

"And him... Eddie? What's his argument?" I ask, pressing my hand to my mouth.

"That Gwen never told him he had fathered a son," he murmurs, pursing his lips. I shake my head, looking down as he continues. "That Charles should be growing up with his father. He's definitely going to bring up Matteo's past involving the alcoholism and the circumstances that of his parent's passing."

I look at Matteo for the first time without a scowl, my eyes widening. His past will be out in the open. I gape slightly, shaking my head. "Is there nothing else we can do? I mean, what if we let him visit him? Could we work something out?"

Rory shakes his head apologetically. "We've already tried that route with his lawyer. He wants court. He wants to legally own his son."

"But he's not his son, for fucks sake!" I shout, placing my head into my hands.

The room falls silent for a few unbearable moments.

"Thank you for coming so late, Rory," Matteo whispers, standing up beside me in order to ushers him out, apologizing for my outburst, for my anger. I shake my head and stand up, storming to the bedroom.

                                                            ***

In the tub, I have my head in my hands, loathing my crazy, fucked up world when I hear the knob turn for the bathroom door. However, it doesn't open. I locked it.

I expect to hear Matteo speak, but he doesn't. Instead, I hear the bedroom door shut.

                                                            ***

I lie awake, alone in our large cold bed, unable to sleep.

The worst possibilities keep arising in my head like nightmares except I'm not sleeping. What if they take him? What if they take Charles? What if they refuse to let us see him?

I close my eyes, rubbing my hands over them roughly.

It's one thing after another. The obstacles between Matteo and I never seem to end. Just as we're convinced we're happy, something destroys it. As the time ticks by and as I begin to wonder whether or not Matteo is asleep or wide awake like I am, my anger gradually begins to dissipate.

Fear. Spine-tingling fear takes over in it's place. Fear of what this could to do my relationship. Fear of what this could do to Charles, my parents, Matteo... me.

I turn over onto my side, clutching my shivering body. It's in this moment I wish I hadn't locked that bathroom door.

He was right. I do need him, despite my anger. Despite anything.

I turn back over, huffing loudly.

I find myself sitting up before I know it. My feet softly pat across the floor as I open my bedroom door, peering into the living room. Spotting the door to the guest room is ajar, I walk over to it. Glancing inside, I find the comforter has been turned back, but Matteo isn't there. Holding onto the frame, I glance around the empty apartment, checking the terrace.

My eyes suddenly linger on Charles' open door and I feel my heart stop.

Part of me knows as I stalk towards the door that if I find Matteo with him, it will obliterate my anger and replace it with agony. I can't stop myself from checking.

I pull open the door, sighing at the sight I find.

Matteo is still in his clothes from earlier today, overtaking the toddler bed with his large form. On his back, his arm around Charles, who is cuddling to his side fiercely.

The icy layer around my heart thaws as I stare at them, a painful tightness in my throat.

I wipe my tears slowly as they pour down my face, trying to find the old Emma. The one who could see the positive in everything. It's hard to be that girl now, but as I look at them together, a spark of hope ignites in my body. I walk in, still trying to control my emotions as I lie down carefully on the other side of Charles.

The mattress lowers and Matteo's head tilts towards the movement. His eyes open sleepily before his pupils land on mine. I lay my head down against the pillow, staring at him, hoping he can sense my silent plea of remorse.

I watch as he turns carefully onto his side, pulling Charles closer into him. Charles mumbles, deep in sleep. Matteo reaches out, resting a hand on my hip, urging me closer until we're cozied together, one family.

"I'm sorry," I whisper shakily.

"Me too," he replies, just as soft.