Her Godfather (18+)

Chapter 23

The following days were one of the hardest in Ivys' life.

She had not seen or spoken to her dad since the day he walked out of Matteo's apartment with the look of hurt and disappointment on his face. She had instantly felt guilty but she was also stubborn, a trait she'd gotten from him. While she knew she was wrong for not telling him and going behind his back with his best friend, she was also angry he chose to attack Matteo and not give her a chance to explain.

Her mother had called an hour later, shocked, angry, and confused. Ivys' dad had given her a quick version of what had happened and her mother had called, not believing the story until she heard it from Ivy herself. When she had told her it was the truth, her mother became hysterical.

"Ivy! What were you thinking?!" her mother cried over the phone, "and that bastard! he was supposed to be like a second father to you, for goodness sake we made him your godfather! how could he go behind our backs and do this.. we trusted him."

"Mom! Listen to me, Matteo didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who went after him.. I wanted him."

"No Ivy, he's older, he was supposed to know better. Oh gosh, how long has this been going on?" cried Ivys mother in horror.

"Mom, no! It's not like that. We weren't sneaking around, it just... happened."

There was a long pause on the other end, broken only by her mother's ragged breathing. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, wounded.

"Did he ever even see you as his goddaughter? Or has he always—" she stopped herself with a sharp intake of breath. "I can't do this right now."

The line went dead.

⸻

Ivy stared at the screen, the silence louder than the click of the call ending.

She had always known this would hurt her parents, but she had foolishly hoped that once they saw how real it was—how serious it was—they would try to understand. But so far, all she'd done was detonate the foundation of two lifelong relationships: one with her father, the other with her mother's trust.

And Matteo.

Matteo had been quiet, giving her space. He hadn't pushed, hadn't texted, hadn't even tried to talk about what happened after her father stormed out. Ivy hadn't decided if she appreciated the silence or hated him for it.

She looked out the window now, wrapped in her oversized sweatshirt, her legs curled beneath her on the couch. Rain tapped against the glass in steady rhythm. The whole world felt like it was punishing her for something her heart refused to regret.

A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts.

Not the doorbell. A knock.

Only one person ever knocked like that.

She stood slowly, her heart in her throat. When she opened the door, there he was.

Matteo.

His hair was damp from the rain, his jaw unshaven, his eyes—those familiar, unreadable eyes—looked straight into hers with a tired kind of longing.

"I shouldn't be here," he said softly.

She didn't answer. Just stared at him, taking in the bruised line of his jaw from her father's punch, the wrinkle in his brow that hadn't gone away in days.

"I just... I needed to see you," he said.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "I thought you were done."

"I'm not," he replied, stepping closer. "But I also can't pretend this is going to be easy. Your dad—"

"Matteo," she cut him off. "Do you regret it?"

His eyes burned into hers. "Not for a second."

She exhaled.

And in that moment, between the rain and the wreckage of what they'd destroyed, Ivy did something she hadn't allowed herself to do in days.

She reached for his hand.

"Then stay."