by Lake, C. J.
“Yes, I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet, though,” she stated.
“No problem!” Emma continued, being deliberately cheery. “Listen, I also wanted to say that I really enjoyed having you over to my house the other day, and I’m sorry if I seemed to be rushing you out. The truth is, I was concerned about the weather and having to pick up my sons at school, and I know that’s no excuse for my rudeness, but if I in any way offended you, please accept my apology. And--I hope you’ll come again!” she added for good measure.
At that point, haughty Marta Vincent did something totally unexpected. She responded kindly, reasonably, and even humbly. “Oh, no, I understand!” she rushed to say. “Really, I’m not upset with you! And I shouldn’t have been going on and on when we both had other obligations that day. Let’s forget the whole misunderstanding,” she offered.
“Great, okay,” Emma said, smiling, feeling a sense of relief that Marta wasn’t such an unlikable diva after all. (It was ironic how much negativity seemed to weigh.) After getting a second cup of coffee, she booted up her laptop and started her work.
~
“Oh, my God, the floor looks amazing!” Emma gushed later that afternoon when she entered her kitchen. Matt had started putting down the new floor panels first thing that morning, and now it appeared he was three-quarters of the way done. “It looks gorgeous!” she exclaimed, almost about to reach out and hug him, but snapped to her senses just in time.
Matt gave her an easy smile as he stood upright. “Glad you’re happy,” he said.
“Are you ready for a break?”
“Sure.”
“Good.” She pulled out today’s crossword puzzle, which she had folded and tucked into her daily planner. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “I saved this for you. I know how it eats at you when two or three clues are left unanswered.”
“Right, sure,” he said, eying her with amusement. “You’re only thinking of me.”
With a grin, Emma said, “Of course. You understand me so well.” Even though she didn’t mean it, she realized in that second that there actually was a shred of truth buried in her sarcasm. Just then the phone rang. When Emma leaned over to glance at the number on the display screen, she just shrugged and ignored the call. “I don’t recognize the number. So anyway, will the floors be completely finished today?”
“No, you can’t walk on them today. They need to sit overnight. So I’m keeping that section over there undone until tomorrow, so you have somewhere to walk,” Matt said, and before Emma could react to the information the machine picked up.
“Hi, Emma. Phil Parker here.” Softly, Emma gasped--not expecting to hear from the man, and, for some strange reason, feeling awkward about it in front of Matt. It didn’t make logical sense; it was just a gut reaction. As she walked over to the machine to lower the volume, she heard Phil saying something about going to dinner and a movie that weekend. He was still talking when she muted the sound, and glanced over at Matt.
“Hey, don’t not listen on my account,” he said, picking up some of his materials off the floor.
“No, I’m not,” Emma lied. “I just don’t know why he’s calling me.”
With a short, brusque laugh, Matt said, “Isn’t that fairly obvious? Mr. Homework’s still sweating you.”
“No, it’s not like that. I saw him at the Bake Sale this week, that’s all,” Emma said, realizing only after she said it that it was more of a non-sequitur than an explanation.
“Well…are you free this weekend?” Matt asked, not looking at her, as he packed up his tools.
Suddenly her heart began to race. Where was he going with this…? “Y-yes, I’m free,” she answered cautiously.
“But I assume you’re not going to go?” Matt said, now eying her.
“Oh. Out with Phil Parker you mean?” she said, feeling both relieved and disappointed that Matt hadn’t been trying to ask her out himself. Mostly relieved, her mind insisted. “No, I hadn’t planned on it. Why?”
“Why not?” Matt asked. “He sounds nice.”
“He is,” Emma agreed as she took a soda from the fridge.
“So why don’t you want to go out with him?” Now Matt had set his stuff down and walked toward her. Her pulse ticked faster the closer he came; her fingers tightened around the cold soda can. Instinctively, her nerves fluttered when Matt neared, never knowing what to expect--or rather, not wanting to expect something, but in some secret part of her, wondering if he might try to touch her. And what would happen if he did? Was she really strong enough to resist? “What’s wrong with him anyway?” he said now.
Emma brushed off the question. “Why does something have to be wrong with him?”
Crossing his arms, Matt gave her a knowing look. “C’mon, why else wouldn’t you be interested? The guy’s gotta be doing something wrong.” For a passing moment, Emma wondered if Matt was really talking about Phil Parker--or if he was merely circling around the larger topic of what she was looking for in a guy.
“Nothing is wrong with Phil Parker,” Emma stated emphatically. “I mean, as far as I know. Like I said, I barely know the guy, but yes, he seems very nice.”
Matt appeared to mull that bit of information over for a moment and then said, “I think I get it. You don’t go for ‘nice.’ You’re into bad boys. Is that it?”
At that, Emma had to laugh. “Hardly!”
Nodding, Matt stepped closer. “Okay. Is he missing teeth?”
Skeptically, Emma replied, “Not to my knowledge--but I doubt it.”
“Losing his hair?”
“No--but I wouldn’t care about that anyway.”
“That’s sweet,” Matt commented sincerely.
“It’s true.”
“All right, let’s think. Oh, I know! He’s shorter than you.”
“I’m five-four!” she burst, setting her hands on her hips in a stance of amusement and disbelief.
With a laugh, Matt held up his hands. “Hey, shit happens. So is that it?”
“No, of course not. In fact,” Emma continued, “he’s practically as tall and fit as you are.”
At that Matt’s expression faltered. “Really,” he said, his voice flat.
“Really. Actually, to be completely honest…Phil is a nice-looking guy.”
“Is he?” Matt said tightly.
“Yes. Hence, there is no secret reason why I’m not pursuing Phil Parker. I’m just busy, that’s all. You see how much I’ve got to get done in the next few weeks.”
Matt’s gaze seemed to be assessing her. “Yeah, but Emma, no one is too busy to spend a little time with the opposite sex. It’s human nature. Are you just…not attracted to him?”
Now she was almost sure Matt was asking about more than just Phil Parker. Either way, she had to deflect the topic and get off this path. “So you expect me to stand here and discuss who I’m attracted to? That’s a little personal don’t you think?”
Just like that, Matt stepped back an inch, pausing before he said, “I’m sorry, Emma--I crossed a line. I didn’t mean to…”
“No, no,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “It’s not that serious. You’re my friend; I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Matt began shaking his head, too, insisting, “No, but still. I had no right to--”
“Stop, please,” she implored. “I’m not upset, okay? If you really want the truth, here it is: I’m moving. I’m leaving. There’s no future in any relationship I start right now, so I’m not going to start one.” Before Matt could say anything, she held up a hand to silence him. “I know what you’re going to say. ‘Hey, why does it have to be a relationship? Just go out and have fun.’ Well, I’ll tell you why. Because: that’s not me.” Though he appeared slightly taken aback by her tirade, Matt remained silent as she continued: “I was married to someone who went from being my high school sweetheart to my college sweetheart to my husband. He was my best friend and that’s all I know. That’s me.”
Seeming at a bit of a
loss, Matt hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry, Emma.”
“Don’t be sorry!” she nearly snapped. “I can handle talking about this; I’m not a fragile teacup! I’m just trying to explain that I’m…I’m fine on my own,” she finished.
Abruptly, and inconveniently, her eyes began to water. In seconds, tears were welling up, threatening to spill over, and Matt was rushing up to put his hands on her upper arms and comfort her. “Jesus, Emma, I’m the biggest asshole in the world. Now I’ve made you cry.”
With a humorless laugh, she shook her head, brushing tears away with the back of her hand. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I clearly see that you’re crying,” Matt said gently.
“It’s not you. I’m just so emotional today.” She sniffed and explained, “Connor’s parents picked up the boys yesterday. I just miss them so much, that’s all,” she mumbled as a couple more tears fell down her cheeks.
“Oh, Emma…” Matt said, his voice warm and sympathetic. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know.” She sniffed again, looking at the floor.
Suddenly Matt’s phone buzzed.
“Damn,” he muttered, sounding annoyed by the interruption, and took his cell out of his back pocket. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? Oh, shit. You’re kidding me.” Glancing up, Emma eyed him with concern, watching as Matt’s head dropped back and he looked to the ceiling in frustration. Expelling a sigh, he said, “All right, Dad. I got it. Yep--call you later.”
“What happened?” Emma said as soon as Matt slid his phone back in his pocket.
“One of our newer guys, Brady, showed up at the work site today drunk.”
“Oh, my God!” Emma yelped.
“Yeah, the woman who owns the house is freaking out on us. I’ve got to go down there.”
“What can you do?” Emma asked, as Matt hurriedly picked up his tool box and oversized duffel bag.
“Smooth things over. Convince her that our company knows what it’s doing--that I’ll take over the job myself. Oh, yeah, and fire Brady.”
“Wow, you have to do all that?” Emma said, surprised. It was a lot of responsibility for a twenty-three-year-old guy. But Matt didn’t seem overly fazed by it.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Of course,” she said quickly, “I understand.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before Matt left, he stopped at the entrance, turned back toward her. His dark eyes seemed intense as they cast over her, lingering on her face. “Emma, just…no more tears, okay? Promise me.”
Her heart swelled a little in her chest as she looked at him. She didn’t promise that, but she smiled warmly at him instead.
Chapter 20
Several hours later, Emma was on the phone--trying to distract herself from the butterflies in her stomach by talking to Andy.
“Can you even believe I’m going on a date tonight?” she said excitedly, nestling her cell between her ear and her shoulder as she curled each eyelash and applied black mascara.
“I honestly can’t,” Andy admitted. “You have to tell me everything when you get home. Or tomorrow, at the latest.”
“Of course I will.”
“Where’s he taking you?”
“Um, we’re supposed to do dinner, but I’m not sure where.”
Earlier, after Matt left, Emma had had the whole afternoon to think about their talk. The whole afternoon to feel lonely and incomplete, knowing Jake and Ben would not be back for days. Finally, when her pity party had reached pathetic levels, she’d made an impulsive decision to return Phil Parker’s call. After talking for about half an hour, he’d asked her out for tonight.
“I should go soon, actually,” she told Andy now. “He’s coming at seven.”
“Okay. Oh, wait. Just one question. I’m just curious…”
“Yes?”
“How come you’re going out with this guy when you said no to Matt originally?” At a loss for the answer, Emma’s mouth hung open for a few moments, and Andy said, “Oh, I get it.”
“Get what?” Emma snapped.
“You’re not afraid you’ll fall for Phil Parker. But Matt’s a different story.”
If Andy had been the least bit smug, it would have given Emma an excuse to pick a fight. But instead, her sister just sounded calm and perceptive. Ugh, Emma thought, rolling her eyes in the bathroom mirror.
“Where do you come up with that?” she said. “You tell me you want me to have fun in my life, and now you’re overanalyzing me and taking all the fun out.”
Quickly, Andy scrambled to make amends. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that! Don’t be mad, okay?”
“I’m not.”
“All right, well…have fun!” Andy said brightly.
With a twist of her lips, Emma thanked her and promised to call her later. Andy made it impossible to stay mad at her so why even try?
The doorbell rang just as she was slipping on high heels. As she hurried to the foyer, Emma felt a tremendous flutter of nerves assail her belly, and prickle aggressively up her chest. She hadn’t been on a date in forever, and the only guy she’d ever dated was Connor.
When she glanced through the side window, she saw the sleeve of a familiar jacket. “Matt?” she said as soon as she swung the door open. His eyes widened when he saw her--then coasted down over her black dress. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“Hey,” he said, seeming distracted as his eyes traveled back up to her face. “I’m, uh, sorry to show up like this, but in my rush before, I left my tablet here. Do you mind if I grab it?”
“Oh--um--sure,” Emma said quickly, ushering him inside the foyer. She followed him to the kitchen and watched as he looked around and then spotted it near the windowsill.
As he walked toward it, he threw her a quick look and said, “Are you going out?”
Inhaling a breath, Emma said, “Yes. I actually have plans. Try not to die of shock.”
“What does that mean?”
“I know you think I just hide in my house doing crossword puzzles,” she said lightly.
“No, I don’t,” he said, sounding sincere.
Self-consciously, Emma brushed her hair behind her shoulder and said, “Well, I thought about what you said before and I made plans.”
When she didn’t elaborate, Matt didn’t pry. Grabbing his tablet, he nodded and said, “Well, I don’t want to make you late for, you know, whatever your plans are.”
“No problem,” was all she said to that.
He looked like he wanted to say more--but instead, he kept his jaw tight as his eyes gave her another once-over. Then he headed to the front door. “Have fun tonight, Emma,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thanks, um, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said, watching the door shut behind him.
It was less than five minutes later that Phil Parker arrived.
As Matt got into his truck, he saw a silver Nissan pull into Emma’s driveway. His chest drew tight as he watched a man get out and straighten his button-down shirt. The driver of the car was a tall guy with dark hair, maybe in his early thirties, and he had the nerve to carry a rose with him to the door. As an angry swell of jealousy expanded in Matt’s chest, he shoved his truck in reverse harder than he meant to; swallowing his frustration, he pulled out of Emma’s driveway, glaring at the other car--and tried to ignore the raging heat of his blood as he read the vanity plate: PPARKR.
Just fucking perfect.
~
It didn’t take a very observant person to see that Matt’s head was not in the game. Tragan had noticed that his friend had been phoning it in all night with his lackluster poker playing, and still it continued. “Winter--hello?” Pellican barked. “I raised the bet ten bucks. You in or out?”
“Oh, um…yeah, I’m in,” Matt said distractedly and tossed a chip on the pile.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Tragan asked, tossing a chip in.
“Nothing, I was just thinking about Andy’s si
ster,” Matt muttered.
“What about her? Is there a problem with the job?” Tragan asked.
“No, it’s not that. It’s…look, it’s stupid,” Matt continued, eyeing the group briefly before giving a careless shrug. “It’s just that she went out with some guy tonight and I think it’s my fault. I think I accidentally convinced her to do something that she doesn’t want to do.”
Skeptically, Tragan said, “Nah, I’m sure you didn’t. She’s a grown woman. She wouldn’t go out with a guy unless she wanted to, right?”
Seeming agitated, Matt began tapping his thumb on the table as he studied his cards. “You don’t understand. She’s…naïve.”
“Doesn’t she have kids?” Bardo interjected. “How naïve could she be?”
Impatiently, Matt rolled his eyes. “Forget it.”
“Seriously, what’s the big deal?” Tragan said.
“It’s just that she’s a sweet girl and the guy she went out with tonight looked like a real douchebag,” Matt grumbled.
“Why?” Tragan asked.
“I could just tell.”
Bardo pressed for details. “Well, did he wear wingtips? A sweatband? What? C’mon, give us something.”
“Well he had a personalized license plate on a fucking Nissan--if you can believe that shit.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty douchey,” Pellican agreed, even though it was obvious Matt was reaching with that one. “Okay, I’m raising the bet again,” Pellican added.
With a sigh, Matt rubbed his temple, staring blankly at his cards. “It’s just that this is my fault,” Matt continued, half under his breath. “If I hadn’t said anything to her, she never would have gone.”
What the hell? Tragan thought. If Matt was this twisted up over Emma going on a date, then…
“Hey, remind me not to go on any dates when I’m having work done on my house,” Bardo said. “Apparently the contractor takes it very personally.”
While Pellican snorted a laugh, Tragan eyed Matt cautiously. If there ever was a time to rip into Bardo about still living at home with his parents, this would have been it. But Matt didn’t do that. Instead, he dropped his cards face-down beside his unused chips. “I’m out,” he said and pushed his chair away from the table.