by Lake, C. J.
“I should probably go. Stacy Creston is supposed to come over later to take pictures for the listing.”
“Oh,” Matt replied, a bit disappointed. “All right. By the way, I’ll come by to put in the storm window this week.”
“Um, okay,” Emma managed, because it was easier than trying to convince him not to install it. “But you know what? Come Thursday night.”
“How come?”
“That’s when my mom’s having the boys over for dinner.”
“Yeah, but today’s Monday,” Matt said, then gave her an adorable, hopeful look. “That’s four whole days away.”
Averting her eyes, Emma shook her fingers through her hair, which was surely a tousled mess, and explained, “But if Jake and Ben are at my mom’s house then, you know, it’s better that way. They won’t have to see you.”
“What?” Matt said with an incredulous laugh. “I thought they liked me.” Now he climbed out of bed, too, and walked behind Emma into the living room where they’d left their torn-off clothes.
“They do,” she said, bending to scoop up her pants. “They like you a lot.”
“So then…why…?”
“Look, I just don’t want them to get the wrong impression,” she said, still not making eye contact with him, as she jumped into her pants and looked around for her bra.
“And what impression is that again?” Matt said, his voice now edged with impatience.
Uncomfortably, Emma shrugged. “The impression that you’re going to be in their life or something. I mean, obviously they shouldn’t get used to seeing you around since we’re leaving soon.”
“Ah, I see,” Matt said, now sounding annoyed. “You want me never to see them again. That’s basically what you’re saying.”
Emma rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Matt, I’m just trying to make a clean break, okay? For all of us.”
With a humorless laugh, he motioned toward the bedroom door. “Is that how you normally make a clean break with people?”
Heat rose to her cheeks as she slipped on her bra, then stiffly replied, “I’m just trying to do the right thing. I don’t want the boys to get attached.”
“The boys--or you?” Matt challenged, his tone sharp.
“Matt, please…” Emma muttered, yanking her sweater over her head.
“No,” he said, reaching for her arm. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”
“I…”
“Damn, Emma, what are you so terrified of?” he said with obvious aggravation.
Trying to deflect, Emma yelped, “All I asked was that you come Thursday! What the hell’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that I don’t fucking understand you,” Matt barked. Without question, tension was running high--they had never cursed at each other before. “You act like you really are moving to France--which, by the way, was an obvious load of crap that I never called you out on.” As her face flamed, she turned away from him and out of his grasp. “Ithaca is five hours away. Yes, it’s inconvenient, but still: why would we never see each other? We could see each other,” he said to her back, “if you wanted us to.”
Inhaling a steely breath, Emma said, “What would be the point? Obviously this isn’t going to go much further. Once we move, I’m going to be so busy with my promotion and looking for a place to live and getting Jake and Ben settled in new schools--and you’re going to be busy with work and your friends. I’m not a carefree twenty-three-year-old like you, Matt. I can’t just pick up and visit you for the weekend. That doesn’t exist in my world.”
With a brusque scoff, he said, “Yeah, I’m really carefree. I’ve got a staff answering to me and a ton of responsibilities. My parents count on me, my friends count on me. And now I’m crazy about a girl who can’t give me a straight answer. What else is new there?” he muttered, sounding disgusted. “Yeah, you really get what I’m like. I’m just an immature guy wasting your time.”
Still facing the door, she struggled to keep it together. “Now you’re twisting my words.”
“No I’m not. I always feel like you’re holding back something from me.” After a beat, he put his hands on her arms and turned her around. “Emma…is this about Connor?” His voice softened as he said, “I’m not going to die, all right?”
The words pierced right into the heart of her, into the vulnerable mess that was her soul. Bristling, she said, “You don’t understand anything.”
His expression hardened. “Right. Because I’m too young,” he said acidly.
“I’m just going to go,” Emma said, reaching for the doorknob.
This time, Matt didn’t take hold of her or try to stop her. Instead he replied, “Mm-hmm, fine, Emma. That was your plan from the beginning anyway--to go.”
“Yes,” she shot back. “It was. Good-bye Matt.” She almost made it all the way to the elevator before she realized she was trembling.
Chapter 39
Stacy Creston stood in Emma’s kitchen two evenings later, praising the improvements Matt had done while “absently” twirling the oversized diamond on her finger. Emma decided to humor her and finally take the bait. “That’s a beautiful ring,” she said with a polite smile. “Did you recently get engaged?”
“Yes!” Stacy gushed, touching Emma’s arm, all too thrilled to share. “Last month! He proposed over Thanksgiving. Marc’s a mutual funds analyst; we live in Beacon Hill,” she offered proudly.
“That’s great. Congratulations,” Emma managed, even as a bitter part of her chanted, Enjoy it while it lasts. As soon as the thought entered her mind, though, it felt wrong. Maybe Stacy Creston and her finance guy actually would have a great, long life together. Maybe Fate would smile on them. Maybe they would be blessed with babies and bling for years to come...
“Emma?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I was saying that I already have a potential buyer interested in seeing the house.”
“Really?” Emma said, pleasantly surprised. “You only just listed it.”
“I know, but the pictures online look amazing! The improvements you’ve made in the kitchen are incredible. The room’s a show-stopper now. A bit small, of course--you never knocked down that wall as I’d hoped--but overall, it looks terrific!”
After thanking her again, Emma spontaneously added, “I used Winter Contracting & Construction for everything, including the faucets. They were amazing and very reasonable. You know, in case any of your other clients are looking for recommendations about who to use.”
Nodding encouragingly, Stacy said, “That’s good to know. Winter Contracting. Okay, I’ll remember that.”
Just then Jake came into the kitchen and said, “Mommy, can we go outside?”
“No, sweetie, it’s dark out,” Emma replied.
“But we want to try the trampoline,” he said, as if that were helping his chances.
“Trampoline?” Emma echoed, trying to conceal her annoyance in front of Stacy. But honestly--had Cheryl from next-door run her mouth about the trampoline to Emma’s sons directly, after Emma had asked her not to? Oh, why was she surprised?
“Forget it. I don’t want you playing on that,” Emma said simply and didn’t provide further explanation.
“But--”
“Jake, I’m talking with someone right now,” Emma said firmly, giving him the mom-warning glance. With a defeated sigh, he turned and left the room--walking extra slowly so as to convey his utter dejection. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem, I have to run anyway. But I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know when I’ll be bringing prospective buyers over.”
Emma thanked her and soon after, Stacy left.
Now Jake and Ben were stacking LEGO blocks in front of the Christmas tree and the house was peaceful. With a sigh, Emma sank onto the couch and watched her boys playing. They were so adorable, so sweet--they were everything.
The tree she’d picked out with Matt was beyond perfect. Standing tall in their living room, it looked majestic and gorge
ous, adorned with ribbons and candy canes, and sparkling with lights. Her sons had literally jumped around, excited, when they first saw it.
Every time Emma admired the tree, she thought of Matt. Even though she hadn’t talked to him since their argument at his apartment, he was never far from her mind. So many times over the past two days she’d considered calling or texting, to apologize or to offer some sort of olive branch. What always stopped her was the knowledge that there was nowhere to go from there. If she reached out to him now, she only risked giving him mixed signals. Or worse, pissing him off with platonic subjects like mnemonic devices, in an effort to smooth things over.
No, it was better this way. Anyone could see that. In fact, “it’s better this way” was the drab, trite mental refrain she had latched onto recently and she planned to stick to it. With any luck, it would get her through Christmas.
Chapter 40
The doorbell rang the following evening, startling Emma while she was working on her laptop. Up until then, the house had been quiet. That is, after Emma’s mom picked up Jake and Ben to take them to dinner, and after Stacy Creston showed the house. The only real disturbance since had been the unfortunate trail of cloying vanilla musk that Stacy’s prospect had left behind after his tour.
Since she hadn’t heard from Matt since their fight, Emma had to assume that he, too, had realized the futility of dragging out their inevitable goodbyes. The only other person who might show up was…Cheryl? God, she hoped not. She didn’t feel like making small talk and besides, she was still ticked at her neighbor for putting the horrible garage-trampoline idea in Jake’s head. He and Ben had been pestering Emma about it ever since.
When she glanced through the side window, she let out a soft gasp. Though she could only see his arm, she recognized Matt’s coat. Her heart sped up as she tried to calm her nerves. What was Matt doing here? What would she say to him?
Biting her lip, she hesitated. God, she couldn’t resist him. If she opened the door and let him come inside, how could she stop herself from feeling things for him? What if he tried to kiss her? Could she honestly find the willpower to push him away?
Briefly, she contemplated pretending she wasn’t home, but then dismissed that utterly transparent plan. Her car in the driveway and half the lights on in the house didn’t exactly sell the idea.
The truth was, she still missed Matt all the time; she had to force herself not to think about it. At night, putting him out of her mind was nearly impossible. How could she lie in bed and not think of him next to her--not remember how warm and strong he’d felt beside her? Her loneliness was more acute over the past few days than it had been in years.
Finally, she gulped down a calming breath and opened the door.
“Hey,” Matt said gruffly as soon as he saw her. His tone and his demeanor were to-the-point. No easy smile, no warmth.
“Hi. Come in.” She stepped aside as he entered, carrying a thick, flat square wrapped in bubble wrap. She doubted he was bringing her a painting as a peace offering. Raising her eyebrows in question, she waited for him to explain.
“Storm window,” he said curtly.
“Oh…”
“You said come Thursday night when the boys aren’t here.”
“You’re right,” she said quickly, because technically he was. Though, she never figured he would come after how they’d left things. Why would Matt help her if he was angry with her? Which he clearly seemed to be, based on his aloof manner.
Unless…could the window just be an excuse to see her? A ploy to seduce her? she wondered hopefully. Then mentally cursed her lack of willpower. She needed to stay in control here. What was her lame mantra again…? Oh, right. It’s all for the best, she told herself.
In fact, it was probably a bad idea to become even more indebted to him. He’d already done so much for her already. She really didn’t want to take advantage. “Matt, listen, it’s very sweet of you to offer, but given our situation and--”
He swiftly cut her off. “Emma, believe me, I’m not here to talk about us. Or to try to hook up with you, or for any other hidden agenda. I’m here because there’s a storm coming this week, and your laundry room window is sub-par. I don’t want Jake and Ben to freeze.” Keeping quiet, Emma pressed her lips together. “It’ll only take ten minutes. So are you going to let me do what needs to be done, or are you just going to stand there being stubborn?”
She raised her hands in surrender and watched as Matt bypassed her, heading to the laundry room at the back of the house. While he worked, Emma stayed safely in the living room, out of arguing- or kissing-distance. Sitting by the glittering tree, Emma listened to the faint sound of bubble wrap tearing and intermittent hammering, and just like that, he was done. When he crossed to the foyer again, she noticed that he hadn’t even taken his jacket off; he’d done the whole job like it was nothing.
“Um, wait,” Emma called out, coming to her feet, “how much do I owe you?”
Matt spared her a brief, annoyed glance, then continued to the front door. Emma’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Somehow it was easier to assume that Matt no longer liked her than to see it played out in person.
“Well…see ya around, Emma,” he said on his way out, and shut the door behind him.
“See ya,” she murmured sadly to an empty room.
Chapter 41
Christmas passed too fast, as it always did.
Jake and Ben were ecstatic over their abundance of presents. Between Emma, Andy, their mom, and their dad shipping more gifts from Switzerland, Emma’s sons had been beyond spoiled this year. Andy invited Emma to come to Tragan’s parents’ house on Christmas Eve, but she declined. As a mom, Christmas Eve was her big prep night. Also…she knew Matt would probably be there. As immature as it was, she just couldn’t face him.
She’d really blown it; based on their last brief interaction, it seemed that he didn’t even want to be friends. Emma knew they couldn’t be more than that once she left, but she supposed that lately she’d convinced herself Matt could stay in her life at a distance. Maybe they’d email here and there about his exam or crossword puzzle clues. Really, she supposed she was kidding herself to think that she could let him go and keep him at the same time.
The day after Christmas, Stacy Creston had left a message on the machine. “Exciting news!” she had squeaked. “We’ve got an offer on the house!” Apparently the prospect with the vanilla musk had taken the holiday to think it over, and decided he was ready to buy. Emma had yet to respond to the offer, her mind still scattered by the holidays…and other things.
Privately, she had told Andy that she and Matt were no longer seeing each other, making it clear she didn’t want to discuss it. Without pushing the topic, Andy had respected her wishes--until a couple of days after Christmas, when Emma’s mom was watching the boys, and Emma was over at Andy’s apartment, helping her take down decorations and polish off the leftover sugar cookies. That was when Andy “casually” broached the subject.
“So I saw Matt today,” she said, as she pulled tinsel off the tree and Emma sat cross-legged on the rug, de-threading hooks from ornaments.
Instinctively, Emma’s head snapped up. Then, after a beat, she nonchalantly said, “Oh, really?”
Andy nodded as she continued stuffing silvery tufts of tinsel into a bag. “He looked sort of miserable without you.”
“Please,” Emma said dismissively. “Did he say something?”
“He didn’t have to; it was obvious.”
At that, Emma rolled her eyes. “Sure. Okay.”
“Are you ever going to talk to him again?”
“Andy, I’m willing to talk to him. We’re not in a fight or anything,” Emma insisted, though it was only partially true. “We’re just not together, romantically. That’s all.”
“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but…”
“Because there’s not much to say,” Emma interrupted, focusing again on the pile of ornaments in her lap.
“It’s not like I’m keeping some big secret as to why Matt and I aren’t hanging out anymore. It’s not that dramatic,” she said, which also wasn’t particularly honest. Still she pressed on with deliberate aplomb, “You know, we had some fun, but it was a casual thing and now it’s over. It happens to people everyday.”
Her sister shocked her by barking out a mocking laugh. “Sorry, but… happens every day? We had some fun and now it’s over? Who are you?”
“What?”
“Emma, please. I know you’re trying to downplay whatever happened with you and Matt, but…” With a weary-sounding sigh, Andy said, “Listen. Can I say something in a very delicate, non-judgmental way?”
“Um, I really hope so,” Emma stated dryly. “Because, you know, I could be home having a glass of wine and watching a movie right now.” She held up her hands. “Just saying.”
“Are threats needed?” Andy deadpanned, giving her the side-eye.
Emma had to laugh. “Fine, so spit it out then and let’s move on from the Matt subject.”
“Okay. I’ll just say this one thing. You have major issues.”
“What?” Emma said, taken aback. “Where was the delicate, non-judgy part? I must have missed it.”
“It’s nothing insurmountable,” Andy reassured her, taking a seat on the rug beside her. “I just think that you’ve become emotionally closed off to men, and have possibly developed a morbid fear of love.”
“Oh, is that all?” Emma said tartly, now glaring at her sister--who had the audacity to continue!
Thoughtfully, Andy remarked, “In a way, it probably would have been better for you if you’d gotten involved with someone sooner. Because, let’s face it, after four-and-a-half years, you’ve become, well, almost too independent.”
“Too independent?” Emma repeated incredulously. “There’s no such thing! I can’t believe I’m being criticized for being independent.” Besides, if she were really that independent, she probably would’ve done the weather-stripping better, or conquered that mammoth spider without crumbling.