by Leigh Landry
Even more so after Dustin’s little appearance.
Thankfully the lighting was dim, since the bottoms of his jeans were splattered with mud from the party. Robin had asked on the way if they should change first, but he’d reassured her they would be fine. Even though most of the customers here were dressed for a fine dining experience, the whole place had a casual hipster vibe. Besides, people wore jeans to just about every restaurant in this city, so he wasn’t worried about a little mud on the bottoms of his pants.
They studied their drink menus in silence—all three oversized pages. Robin’s eyes grew increasingly wide until their server greeted them wearing a pink plaid bowtie and suspenders over a pale blue shirt and jeans.
Matt ordered a drink with Jameson, cucumber, and simple syrup. When he handed over the menu, he noticed a frantic, near panicked expression growing on Robin’s face.
In a too-small voice, she asked, “Got any locals on tap?”
“We don’t serve beers on tap. But I can get you something in a bottle?”
Matt couldn’t quite place whatever expression she was trying and failing to hide in response to that bit of information.
“Just bring me a local IPA then,” she said. “Any one.”
Then they were alone again.
Robin traced the grain of the lacquered wooden table. Something was brewing behind that pretty mouth of hers, but he couldn’t figure out what. He’d seen her in a whole lot of different moods over the years, but he’d never seen her speechless.
“So,” he said when he couldn’t stand the silence another second. “Glad you went this afternoon?”
“Yeah.” She nodded nervously and avoided eye contact, still tracing her finger across the table top. “Thanks for inviting me. It was good to see Heidi.”
“Just Heidi?”
“Well, it’s not like anyone else was glad to see me there.”
“Scott seemed glad to see you.”
She made eye contact, only to cast him a doubtful frown. “Scott was just excited to have gossip to bring back to his wife for once, rather than the other way around.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But who cares?”
“I don’t. Not really.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She could deny it all she wanted, but she was nervous. Someone else might not pick up on it, but he sure as hell couldn’t miss it.
The server placed their drinks in front of them. “Do you folks need a minute to look over the menu?”
“Uh, yeah,” Matt said, opening his tall, skinny menu. “We haven’t looked yet.”
“Take your time,” they said and turned to greet another couple that just sat at the other end of their long table.
Robin silently browsed the menu while he did the same. He glanced around as other tables received their orders. Oversized plates topped with tiny nibbles of food, the plates streaked with brightly colored sauces. None of it looked even remotely appetizing.
At least his drink was tasty. Bright, slightly sweet flavor with that smooth whiskey base. Robin took a long sip of beer while she studied her menu. She was starting to look a little green. But maybe that was the lighting.
“You finding anything?” he asked.
“What?”
The place had filled up fast, and the cement walls absorbed none of the increasingly loud conversations fueled by alcohol and weirdly bouncy music, which someone had turned up as the lights dimmed during the last several minutes.
“I asked if you found anything that looks good,” he practically screamed, spacing out each word.
“Oh.” She frowned and looked back down at the menu. “Working on it.”
“Hard to concentrate.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “Never mind.”
It definitely wasn’t the lighting. And it wasn’t the sheer volume of this place bothering her, because he knew how loud it got on that stage when she played. But something sure as hell was bugging her.
Not that he was exactly comfortable in here either.
He’d chosen this place because…well, because he’d wanted to impress her. Or something like that. He’d wanted to take her someplace different. Special. Fun. He’d wanted to show her that he could be fun. But neither of them were having much fun right now.
“Hey, you want to finish these drinks and get out of here?” he asked. “Find somewhere quieter? A little less…” He looked around him. “Less this?”
Her eyes lit up for a second, but she shook her head. “No, this is fine. You were excited to come here. Sorry, I’ll find something, just give me a second.”
She looked guilty. Like she felt bad for taking too long looking at the menu.
He reached across the table and put a hand on her forearm. Her eyes widened as she stared at him above her menu. “If you really want to stay, we can stay. But this place is…a lot. And I’m good with paying for our drinks and taking you some place you’ll really enjoy.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Where’s that?”
He caught the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, and he knew exactly how to fix this. He’d screwed up royally, trying to guess what he thought she needed, when all along he should have asked himself what Robin would really want. Where she’d be most comfortable.
He motioned the server over and asked them to bring the check. Then he downed the rest of his drink and said, “You’ll have to wait and see.”
* * * * *
Robin leaned back in her wobbly wooden chair and took a long sip of her draft beer, the weight of the whole week melting away from her body as they waited for their seafood platters. Couples twirled around the small dance floor in front of them, and Matt nodded his head beside her, bouncing as his foot tapped along with the lively two-step the band played on the tiny stage across the room.
It was loud in here, maybe even louder than that other place, but it was a relaxing explosion of sound. Joyful, comforting…home. Even Matt seemed more relaxed in here.
“Can I ask you something?”
He eyed her curiously. “Sure.”
“Why’d you pick that other place if you didn’t want to eat there? Or was it just not what you expected?”
He took a sip from his own glass and shrugged. “It felt like someplace I was supposed to take you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I guess I was trying to impress you.”
“Matt,” she said. “You don’t have to try to impress me with anything. And we don’t have to go anywhere or do anything because it’s what other people would think we should do. I don’t give a crap what other people think.”
He gave her a judgey eyebrow raise. “Oh really? Says the person who was tied up in knots over a kid’s birthday party?”
“That’s not the same.”
“Why not? You trying to tell me you weren’t nervous about my family judging us?”
“That wasn’t about what other people think.” But the moment she said it she knew those words weren’t entirely true. It had stung like hell when she’d seen him talking with his aunt, because she knew exactly what that grumpy old goat was saying about her. Robin always knew she was one of Tante Mae’s least favorite people, but it still hurt to watch her detail Robin’s faults to Matt from across the room. She might not care much about what other people thought of her, but try as she might to deny it, she did care what Matt thought of her.
“Well then,” he asked, “what were all those nerves about?”
Dang it. She hadn’t meant to get into this with him. Not tonight.
But she knew she’d have to lay out her feelings on all of this eventually, so she decided to do what she always did with Matt: tell him the truth.
“If I wasn’t enough for one Blanchard, what makes you think I’m enough for another?”
Matt stared at her for a good long while, blinking wordlessly. Eventually his shock morphed into anger as his pupils flashed dark with rage. “I’ll kill him.”
Robin shook her h
ead. “You know none of this was Dustin’s fault.”
“It’s his fault if he made you feel for one single second like you were ever not enough.”
Her heart danced in her chest at those words. He was off base just a bit, but his fierce protectiveness set her on fire in an unexpected way that was also slightly embarrassing. She didn’t need his validation or his protection, but damn, it felt good to have them.
Still, neither of those would solve their larger problem.
“Didn’t you see that whole scene we just left back at your sister’s house?” The moment she’d seen Matt running around with those kids, she’d had a sinking feeling that this was all a very bad idea. Seeing Dustin on that video call had only solidified that feeling.
His brow furrowed in confusion. “The birthday party? What about it?”
“The kids, the family scene, the whole thing. I couldn’t give Dustin that. Can’t give it to you or anyone else, either.” She paused, catching her breath and steeling her nerve. “I haven’t changed my mind since Dustin and I had this conversation years ago. I’m not having kids. I can’t cook either, and you sure don’t want me hosting any parties. Not to mention my store and that band are my everything. They’re my family. I don’t plan on giving either up.”
Even if she and Dustin had been able to mesh their careers and dreams in a way that worked for both of them, they never would have bridged the gap between him wanting kids and her not wanting them. At all. She’d loved all those Blanchard kids, and Nat’s kid was just the sweetest thing ever. But Robin didn’t have any desire to be a mom. After thirty-five years, she’d fully accepted that also meant she would never find a man who felt the same way. That gathering had just reminded her of what she already knew.
The band switched gears to a slow, mournful waltz while Matt stared at her a good long minute, waiting for more. “Is that all?”
“There’s probably more.”
“Well, we can deal with those when you think of them,” he said. “As for the other stuff, I never asked you to budge on a single one of those. I love that you’re talented and driven. I can cook for myself, and I can host a damn good party on my own, if I do say myself.” He leaned in closer and held her gaze with his own. “But I don’t need a yard full of people all the time, and I damn sure don’t need a yard full of people I’m trying to escape half the time.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but couldn’t find any words to counter what he’d just said. She’d been without her own family for so long, and she knew firsthand how much family meant to the Blanchards. She’d figured once she reminded Matt of all this he’d come to his senses and realize the truth.
“You conveniently avoided the part where I don’t want kids.” She took a long, deep breath, steadying herself. “Dustin tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal either. I was a fool then to let him, but I was young and didn’t know better. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I wasn’t avoiding it,” he said. “I was thinking of a tactful way to say my sister’s got plenty if I ever get bored and want to borrow one.”
She fought back a smile. “I don’t know if I could ever be that bored, but that’s good to know.”
“Good.” He grabbed his beer from the table and relaxed against the back of his chair again. “Now how do you feel about fish?”
“Tasty, if fried or blackened.”
He frowned. “I mean alive. In a tank.”
“Like as a pet? Oh Lord, no.” She thought back to all of their conversations. Not once did he ever mention having or wanting a pet of any kind, much less some useless aquatic thing. “Since when do you have fish?”
“Since an employee moved to Ohio with her boyfriend last month and couldn’t take a tank with her cross-country,” he said. “Since when are fish a deal breaker?”
“They’re not. Probably.” She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of scaly things are we talking here? Goldfish? Frilly, pretentious bettas? Guppies? You know they eat their young, right?”
He bit his lip. Instead of answering, he pulled out his phone and showed her a photo of the biggest, ugliest, most bug-eyed creature she’d ever seen.
“What the hell is that?”
“That is Apollo.”
“That abomination has a name?” she shrieked. “That thing belongs way down deep with those glow-stick fish and goblin things.”
“Well, I don’t know about where he belongs, but he lives on my dresser now.” He cleared his throat and put his phone down. “At least he doesn’t shed.”
“That’s one point in Apollo’s favor.” She wrinkled her nose. “Bless his ugly heart, he needs all the points he can get.” She looked up into Matt’s dark gray eyes, those deep, sensitive pools, and nearly drowned in them. “You are by far the kindest man I have ever known.”
“It’s just a fish.”
“It’s more than a fish. It’s always more than a fish.” The room began to tilt around her, as she found herself lost in the intoxication of Matt. Kind, generous, steadfast Matt.
He leaned in his chair, closer and closer until his lips met hers, warm and inviting. His aftershave or body wash smelled like hints of cedar, and he tasted like hoppy ale. Her mouth came alive the second his tongue entered. She hadn’t been this excited, this anxious, this alive in…well, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this way about a man. Not even the one she’d married.
His kisses were slow and experimental, testing out the feel of her as she did the same. She could kiss this man all night. For all the rest of her nights.
He gave her one more soft kiss, then touched his forehead to hers. “So I have a great idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s ruin this friendship.”
“I think we may already have,” she teased. “Besides, technically we aren’t friends. I divorced your brother.”
“So what does that make us?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then let’s make something new.”
She couldn’t find the words to tell him this already felt new. Brand new. Exhilarating. “That sounds like an equally bad idea.”
“Why?”
She didn’t have the answers to most of the questions spinning through her head, but she knew that one. “Because I’ll ruin you.”
He pulled his head back and studied her for a moment. Then, with a sly grin, said, “Let me worry about that.”
Then he leaned in to kiss her again, and the whole restaurant and the whole world around them fell away.
-6-
Late Sunday morning, Matt sat on his couch, feet propped on the coffee table, laptop open on his legs. Classic rock played softly on the speaker, while he drained the last of his second mug of dark coffee. He’d checked all the social media channels, confirming all the posts for the week were set to run. All Robin and the band needed to do now was monitor and reply to comments for the next five days. Technically he’d finished everything yesterday, but he wanted to be thorough…and he needed a distraction.
Ever since he left Robin last night, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. About that kiss. But he needed to take things slow, even if slow was the last thing he wanted.
More than anything, he wanted Robin to be happy. He’d been certain that he couldn’t be the guy for that job. But her smile…that kiss…the whole evening made him rethink that. For the first time, he thought that maybe, just maybe, there could possibly be a future for him and Robin together.
His phone rang on the couch beside him. He glanced at the screen. Great. This was not the distraction he was looking for.
“Matthew Blanchard.”
“What did I do this time?”
“Nothing,” Heidi said. “Well, nothing I didn’t know about, but still shit you need to straighten up.”
“Let me guess. You caught hell because I brought Robin yesterday.”
“Bingo. Mom was lighting up my phone with texts at seven-thirty this morning.”
“Did you tell her to
mind her own business?”
“And get yet another lecture about disrespecting her on the Lord’s day? Uh-uh. No thank you. Got enough of that shit living in that house. I’m not fighting your battles on a Sunday morning. You need to handle this on your own. Or y’all need to at least leave me out of it.”
“I don’t get it. We talked to her at the party. She was fine.”
“You know she’d never make a scene in front of other people.”
“I know, but I don’t think it was that. She seemed legitimately glad to see Robin.”
“You sure about that?”
Heidi wasn’t wrong. Their mother was all about appearances, and not just on Sundays. Usually Matt could see through her facade, but maybe she’d gotten better at faking it. Heidi was right. Their mom would never make a scene in front of other people, not with all their family there. Not like other people.
Shit.
“Tante Mae.” His voice was low and guttural, like he was spitting out the name of a movie villain. “She cornered me before we left. I might have accused her of stirring up mess.”
“Jeez. Out loud?”
“Yup.”
Heidi laughed softly. “I’d high-five you, but now I’m in her line of fire. Fix it.”
“How the hell am I supposed to fix that old bat?”
“That old bat’s unfixable. But you gotta do damage control on Mom. Reassure her everything’s fine.” She paused. “Everything is fine, right?”
“Yeah,” he said without a breath of hesitation. “Better than fine.”
“Oh yeah?” Her voice had a playful lift to it.
“We had dinner. Talked. That’s all. It was nice, though.”
“Liar.”
“Fine,” he said. “I kissed her.”
“I knew it!” He heard the loud clap of her hands through the phone. “I’m happy for you two. I know things are messy, but you both deserve this. Each other. Happy endings and all that.”
“We’re a long way from happy endings, Heidi.”
“You sure are if you don’t handle Mom.”
“Jeez. Fine. I’ll call her later.”