Her breath caught in her throat.
“Oh?” she said when she was able to.
“Look at us, Phyllis,” he said, warming to his subject—and scaring her to death. She’d been afraid us was what he’d meant by finding his life. “We not only get along well, we work together well. We enjoy each other’s company. After all these weeks of living in each other’s pockets, we haven’t gotten tired of each other. And we have two children on the way. That’s no small thing.”
Not much of a declaration of undying love, but the words meant more to Phyllis than any declaration would have.
Which made it that much harder to shake her head. “I’m not in the market for either a relationship or a father for these babies.”
“We’re attracted to each other.”
He had her there.
“Very attracted,” he said, leaning forward to grab her hand and pull her onto the couch with him.
Phyllis was just needy enough to fall into those strong arms, lean against that gorgeous chest and turn her face up to welcome the kiss he was giving her. Her entire body quivered, her blood running hot through every vein in her body…and her belly filled with a much more insidious warmth.
God, she wanted him.
“Stop.” She was so out of breath she wasn’t sure how she got the words out. But she was grateful she had.
Matt’s lips left hers, but he didn’t let go of her.
“I can’t.” Phyllis pulled out of his arms, put some distance between them, one cushion’s length.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Matt said, apparently not perturbed that she’d just rejected his lovemaking.
She wasn’t sure she appreciated being so easily forgotten. And yet she was so immensely relieved she felt like crying.
“About what?”
“We both know why I wasn’t interested in a relationship, even after we’d discovered that we made fantastic love and had a baby on the way, but we’ve never really talked about you—why an intelligent, beautiful, loving woman would want to live her life all alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
“You live alone.”
“Only for five and a half more months.”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re such a caring person, Phyllis. How can you be happy having no one?”
Phyllis grew completely still. The air around her seemed to freeze, encasing her. “I have someone.”
His black eyes were bright, intense, as he leaned forward. “I’m not talking about the babies.”
“Neither am I.” She held his gaze, feeling defensive and not knowing why.
“You’re alone in the ways that count, just as I’ve been alone for the past seven years.”
She shook her head, still cold, still tense. Closing down. Shutting herself in. Familiar territory. Safe.
“Don’t project your own emotions onto me, Matt. That’s not how it works.”
“So tell me, who shares your life with you?”
“Half this town!” Shelter Valley, the people here, had been a godsend to her, helping her through the pain of Christine’s death, giving her a new life. “I have more friends than I know what to do with,” she told him, remembering Becca’s earlier call. Her second invitation to Christmas dinner.
Because he’d held himself apart from Shelter Valley’s people, he had no idea what this town was made of, what belonging to this community could do.
“You know,” he said, frowning, “maybe it’s because I’ve been alone so much these past few years, but I’ve spent a lot of time watching people. You’d be surprised what you can learn if you have nothing invested, nothing to risk.”
“Actually I wouldn’t be,” Phyllis said. “I’ve been watching people my entire life, even before I developed an interest in psychology.”
“So, can I tell you what I see when I look at you?” he asked.
No. She slipped a little further inside, barricaded herself. “I guess, since I analyzed you last night, it’s only fair that I hear you out,” she said faintly.
“You helped me.”
“And now you’re ready to jump into the fray?”
She knew they’d been breaking down his walls these past weeks—but she hadn’t expected such a quick and thorough razing.
“No,” he told her. Somehow, with his denial, he gave her more confidence in his sudden reversal. “I have no idea how much—or how little—I’m going to be capable of,” he said. “All I know is that I don’t necessarily have to dismiss the notion of a future different from the one I expected. And because I have two children on the way—children I’m finding it difficult to turn my back on—I also find myself exploring the possibility that I might have fallen in love with their mother.”
Phyllis choked.
And then started to cry, quiet, painful tears.
Matt watched her, his eyes narrowed. But nothing she did seemed to put him off.
“What I see when I look at you is a woman who was so badly hurt by something that she’s in hiding.”
“How can you say that?” Phyllis cried, anger her only defense at the moment. “I’m the one with all the friends!”
“Yes. There’s safety in numbers.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Think about it, Phyllis. You don’t have to share your life with anyone because no one knows all of you. You flit from one person to the next, giving this here and that there, and everyone’s happy thinking that if you aren’t with them, you’re with someone else.”
“That’s because I usually am.”
“Except when you’re by yourself.”
She watched him warily.
“And that’s what you do whenever you’re hurting, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “That’s the real reason you didn’t want to tell everyone you were pregnant. Because you were frightened and in pain and you had to handle that on your own, deal with the confusion and uncertainty before you shared the news with the very people who should’ve been there to support you through it.”
“They have their own problems to worry about, families and kids and lives.”
“Exactly,” Matt said, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t describe. It wasn’t pity. And it wasn’t simply caring, either. “You’re always on the outside looking in. And what I really want to know is why?”
On the outside looking in. How dared he? This man who’d rejoined the living less than twenty four hours ago was suddenly the expert?
Phyllis closed her eyes. Searching for the perfect rebuttal, the logical conclusion, so she could throw it at him and shut him up.
Except that, instead of finding the logical conclusion she expected, instead of voicing the rebuttal she’d planned, she started to shake.
“Maybe it’s because I’m not all that lovable.” The words hurt so much she could barely say them. “Simply by being myself, doing what I can’t help doing. I…seem to intimidate people,” she continued slowly, staring at the Christmas tree that had brought such hope the night before. “And since my ability to understand people, to see what they need, sense what they need, sometimes even before they do, isn’t something I can change or control, I control what I can. My environment.”
“If you don’t get close enough to people, don’t spend too much time with any one person, you don’t have to worry about any of them deciding they can’t stand to be around you.”
Sounded pretty damn pathetic and sad to her. It also sounded exactly right.
“I guess.”
“Can I pose another theory?”
“Of course.” Not that she hadn’t already been around and around this thing a hundred times herself. But he really was the sweetest man. Sensitive and strong…and still there.
“I think maybe you just hadn’t met the right people yet when you felt rejected for having gifts that can heal hearts and minds and lives.”
They were pretty words. She continued to stare at the tree, discovering that if she allowed her vision to blur just a
little, the colored lights all flowed together and formed a rainbow.
“I suppose, if someone’s insecure or, worse, being dishonest with you, having his head examined all the time would be a drag.”
She could hardly see the ornaments now, only rows of rainbows.
“But a smart man, or woman, is going to welcome your talents, Phyllis. Smart people understand how lucky they are to have such great values in their lives. You make people happier with your help—it’s that simple. How could any reasonably intelligent person turn that down?”
Rows and rows of rainbows. Swimming rainbows. Floating in a sea of tears.
“CAN I ASK JUST ONE more thing?” Matt broke the silence a few minutes later. He’d started to think Phyllis wasn’t going to say anything at all, ever. He felt pretty certain he was correct where she was concerned, but had no idea how a guy like him reached a psychologist who knew everything he knew—and so much more.
“Yeah.”
“Who is it that hurt you so badly?”
“There wasn’t just one person. I wouldn’t make life decisions based on a single incident, but rather on a series of them.”
“So this series of incidents, they were all with men?”
“Every one of them.”
“Guys you dated in college?” He pictured the cocky college boys he’d known.
“Most of them.”
Could easily see them being too self-absorbed to know what a gift they’d had in Phyllis.
“You said you’d been married. How long ago was that?”
“A few years.”
Matt didn’t like to think of her married to another man. Loving another man. But she must’ve loved him. A lot. To have given him the power to hurt her this much.
“And how long were you married?”
“Four years.”
“So what happened?”
“Brad thought I was a know-it-all. Couldn’t stand how I always had the answers, as he put it. It got to the point where he never heard a word I said. Never really even listened to me when we talked. He heard what he thought I was going to say and nothing else.”
“Sounds like a great guy.”
“It wasn’t completely his fault, you know,” Phyllis said quietly.
Attacked by a pang he hardly recognized, Matt had to wonder if Phyllis was still in love with her ex-husband.
“And why is that?”
“Brad had to quit listening to me or lose himself. He quit listening to protect himself. I didn’t mean to, but I made him feel stupid, insecure, unsure. And in retaliation, he was always trying to educate me,” she said with a hint of bitterness. “Holding forth on political theory or the Industrial Revolution or Manifest Destiny—or whatever. Because it made him feel smarter than me.”
What the guy deserved to feel was stupid, Matt thought but didn’t say. Brad was stupid, and a jerk besides.
“So which one of you finally decided you’d had enough?” he asked, instead. Not that it mattered. She might still be in love with this Brad, even if she’d been the one to leave.
She laughed, a brittle laugh, still watching the tree that had been holding her attention for the past half hour. “It wasn’t as straightforward as that.”
“What happened?”
“Brad eventually grew so insecure that he turned to another woman. I caught him with her.”
“He had an affair.”
“More than one from what I understand.”
Damn. He could imagine what that had done to Phyllis.
“You know that was because of a weakness in him, don’t you? Not because of anything to do with you.”
She finally turned her eyes on him, and Matt almost wished she hadn’t. The sadness there was painful to see. And worse, he wasn’t sure he could make it go away.
“Logically I know that,” she said. “But I still have to wonder—if I’d been different, would I have been able to hold his interest?”
“Not if he was too shallow to know what a treasure he had in you.”
Tears filled her eyes again and Matt wanted to reach over and wipe them away.
“Look at what you do, Phyllis, what a great gift you have. Your friend Tory is just one example. You helped a woman who was on a fast course to hell, and she’s now a happily married woman, and a mother with a loving extended family.”
“Tory did most of that herself. I just listened.”
“And counseled.”
“Maybe.”
After a lifetime of being alone, Matt didn’t really know how to open up, but he owed it to her to try.
“Look what you’ve done for me,” he said, imbued with an unfamiliar and powerful emotion. “When I first met you, I hated myself so much I could hardly look other people in the eye…because I had to spare them what I saw as my tainted presence.” He held her gaze steadily, but the effort it took cost him. “Somehow, without my even realizing it, you gave me back a sense of worth I didn’t know I possessed. You found value in me, and through you I’m now beginning to find it in myself.”
“Anybody you’d let close enough could have done the same.”
“But you,” he said, nodding toward her once, “you were able to meet me where I was and bring me out to where you were. And I know that not just anyone could’ve done that. It took someone with special vision, Phyllis. Someone who could see something I couldn’t see myself.”
She watched him silently for several long minutes, obviously assessing everything he’d said.
“Where did you come from, Matt Sheffield?” she whispered at last, a tremulous smile hovering on her lips.
“I don’t know,” he told her a bit hoarsely. “But I’m glad I ended up here.”
Leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, Phyllis laid her head sideways on her hands, looking over at him. “It would appear that we’re a pretty sorry pair.”
“But a matching one.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“Which is a good thing, because until I know whether or not I have enough trust left inside me to build on, I can’t accept any.”
“Is that enough of an understanding to take me to bed?”
“I thought you’d never ask….”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PHYLLIS WAS UP making breakfast the next morning while Matt showered. They both had to be on campus early for a meeting, but he still had to drive out to his place to change. She’d already showered and was proudly wearing a black skirt she’d had to pin closed beneath the matching red-and-black jacket.
The oatmeal and toast were ready at about the time she heard the water shut off. And while she’d like to have stood there daydreaming, recalling what Matt looked like, imagining that gorgeous body dripping wet from the shower, she had to decide where to put his bowl of oatmeal, instead.
Setting a place at the table seemed like such a commitment. Yet didn’t leaving his bowl on the counter, where he usually ate, mean they were taking a step backward?
Unable to make a decision and hating the fact that she was thrown off course by such an inconsequential thing, Phyllis finally left the bowl empty by the pan of oatmeal.
Let him decide.
With damp hair, but completely dressed, including his leather lace-up shoes, Matt joined her in the kitchen.
Her heart leapt, just looking at him. Out of incredible desire. And an equal measure of fear. Could she do this? Could she really allow herself to believe to that this man wanted her?
How could she trust that much?
How could she not?
“There’s oatmeal…”
“I don’t normally eat breakfast.” He glanced at her, and she could see the desire, banked but still glowing, in his eyes. Yet there was uncertainty, as well as satisfaction in his demeanor. She could read it in the way he was rocking, almost imperceptibly, back and forth on his feet. The tension in his hands. The brevity of his gaze.
“I didn’t, either, until I was eating for three,” she said.
He grinned at
her. At least the babies were something certain between them. “Then you’d best get to feeding them before they start to complain,” he said.
Phyllis nodded, grateful to have something to do as she filled a bowl, buttered a piece of toast and, in bare feet, crossed the room to her usual place at the table.
“Will’s going to be taking a final count at the meeting this morning of all the faculty planning to attend his New Year’s Eve party,” she said. She’d been planning to go—she’d gone the previous year, when it was still an annual Christmas open house, and she’d had a great time—but suddenly wondered about the protocol of things here. Did they go as a couple? Were they a couple?
Or did she just go alone, as usual?
This was all so awkward. So complicated and confusing.
“Seems to me that would be a good time to come out—so to speak,” he said, still rocking. His eyes were jumping from one object to another in her kitchen. “You won’t be able to hide your pregnancy much longer….”
“I’d already decided to tell everyone.”
He looked directly at her. “But the telling’s going to be different now, isn’t it?” His gaze was steady now, calming her just a bit. “Those babies have a father.”
Something lifted inside Phyllis. A weight she hadn’t known was there. “They always did have.”
He was still watching her. “We’re in this together, then. The New Year’s Eve party would be as good a time as any to get everybody used to that fact.”
Phyllis nodded.
Grabbing his keys from the pocket of his jacket, Matt moved toward the hall that would take him to the front of the house. “Kind of fitting, in a way,” he said, standing there with one foot in the kitchen, one in the hall. “New Year’s Eve—time of new beginnings.”
And with that—and no kiss—he was gone.
Phyllis wondered which of them was more relieved.
IT WAS SATURDAY afternoon, three days before Christmas and two days since Matt had spent the night at her house. Although he’d been over the day before, there’d been no repeat performance of that incredible lovemaking. But they’d talked. About their pasts. And about the future they both wanted, but weren’t sure they could trust.
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