She flinched, looking guilty as all get-out once again, but folded her arms defiantly. “Or?” she prodded, lifting her chin.
Matt had no choice. “Our relationship is over.”
* * *
JEN COULD SEE MATT MEANT what he said.
It didn’t change her course of action.
There was only one person who could change Emmett’s mind about leaving, and that was Matt. “You need to talk to your father before it’s too late.”
His eyes gleaming dangerously, Matt stared down at her. “Too late for what?”
Not about to let him make her feel in the wrong here, she grabbed his arm and commandeered him toward the door. “Just go after him.”
Matt’s eyes were utterly implacable, his lips grim. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think by the way you’re acting that this was a matter of life and death.”
Just as it had been with his mother, when Emmett had neglected to tell Matt that Margarite was ill.
“Please, Matt,” Jen said hoarsely, “just do as I ask, for all our sakes.”
Confront your dad. Work it out with him. Then, and only then, come back to me. See if there’s anything left to work out. And right now, Jen wasn’t sure there was.
Matt still refused to budge.
Sadly, Jen could see this was no different from her marriage. Her ex had expected her to be loyal only to him, and then had blamed her for everything that went wrong with his relationship with his folks, too. There was no happiness down that path. None at all.
“You understand I can’t be with a woman who keeps secrets from me,” Matt warned, very very softly.
Knowing what was at stake here, Jen worked to control her growing disillusionment. “And you understand,” she countered, mimicking his low, reproach-filled tone, “that in not respecting my commitments, you’re not respecting me?”
Like it or not, she’d made a promise to Emmett. She could not break that vow. Not even for Matt. Not even when it was a condition for continuing their relationship.
An unhappy silence fell.
They stared at each other, neither giving ground. Neither willing to cede control.
Or say what they both now knew to be the truth—that they never should have become involved in the first place.
Because it was true.
They were just too different.
She would never be the woman Matt wanted or needed, not long term, anyway. She had the wrong background, the wrong priorities, and a heart that turned out to be way too vulnerable and open to loving him, after all.
It was ironic, Jen thought, that only now—when it was clearly too late for them to bridge the gap between expectation and reality—that she’d realize what she really felt for him.
Silently, with tears sliding down her face, Jen watched Matt walk out of the door…and out of her life.
Chapter Fifteen
“You weren’t kidding when you said the Briscoes had fixed up your van.” Celia engulfed Jen in a warm, welcoming hug. “It’s even painted!”
Jen shifted her sunglasses higher on the bridge of her nose. August in Austin was hot—and humid, too. A fact that only added to the misery of her day.
She’d caught a ride back to Laramie County with Emily and Dylan, both of whom had pretended not to notice that she was way too quiet the entire ride and struggling not to cry.
Once at the Triple B, she’d been relieved to find that neither Matt nor Emmett were there, which made packing up her things in the van quick and easy.
Numb with remorse—for being naive enough to let the Triple B feel like home—she’d driven back to Austin, missing Matt already.
And now she just felt numb again. So numb. As if she’d never be happy again…
But there was still work to be done. And thanks to her multitude of recent mistakes, many new problems to be solved.
Pretending a nonchalance she couldn’t begin to feel, Jen stretched the stiffness from her body. Glad her eyes were hidden by the dark lenses, she flashed a crooked smile and turned away from the probing glances of her friends. “Now all I have to do is figure out how to pay for the ten thousand dollars worth of repairs Matt ordered.” She plucked her handbag from the passenger seat and looped it over her shoulder with unnecessary care.
Shrugging, Jen straightened and shut the van door. “Which isn’t going to be easy, given the fact I’ll no longer be doing a whole series of work for Emmett Briscoe.”
Celia looped a comforting arm around Jen’s shoulders. “You’re not?”
She shook her head. “I’m just finishing the one I’ve started—in payment for the hospitality they showed me the last two weeks, putting me up, loaning me a car, paying for a trip to Fort Worth, and so on.”
Cy moved to Jen’s other side, looking ready to do battle on her behalf. “Things are really that bad?”
Meaning unsalvageable?
Jen hated to be the bearer of bad news to the happy parents, but since their financial futures were interlinked, she had no choice but to be honest.
She opened the back of the van and brought out the cooler containing the very carefully packed, half-completed clay sculpture. “They really are,” she said softly. “At least with Matt and his dad.” She squared her shoulders as Cy went on ahead to open the service door to the gallery. “The good news is I met a lot of collectors at this party I went to in Fort Worth last night. I’ve already gotten a couple of emails from prospective clients wanting to talk about commissioning a sculpture.”
Celia beamed as Jen set the cooler down on her desk. “Well, that’s great,” she enthused.
Jen set her shoulder bag down, too, declaring with forced optimism, “There’s always a silver lining somewhere if you look hard enough.” And right now she was determined to forget she had ever been foolish enough to fall in love with Matt. Determined to pick herself up and get on with her life.
She tiptoed over to the bassinet tucked in a corner and for the first time laid eyes on the newest member of the gallery team. Dressed all in pink, the sweet-faced baby girl had long-lashed eyes and wisps of dark curly hair.
Jen placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, guys. She’s absolutely gorgeous!” And the image of her parents.
Cy beamed. “We sure think so.”
Celia lifted her out so Jen could hold her.
Jen cuddled the sleeping newborn against her chest. Cassandra was so soft and fragile, so perfect in every way.
Jen’s throat tightened. Just yesterday, she had hoped that she and Matt would one day share the same kind of happiness.
But they weren’t going to, so…
Once again she dragged her attention to the present, and the problems she could do something about. She frowned at Celia and carefully handed the infant back to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on maternity leave?”
Snuggling her baby close, her friend shrugged off the concern. “I just came in for a few hours to do the end of the month books, while Cy worked on molds for the latest crop of baby shoes and rattles we’re bronzing.” She stepped nearer and rested her head on his shoulder. “This way, we could all be together.”
They made such a happy family.
Another wave of longing swept through Jen, and she swallowed. “Be sure you take enough time off,” she scolded affectionately. “Both of you. I want you to enjoy every minute with little Cassandra.”
Because happiness, like everything else good in life, was fleeting….
Jen helped them pack up the baby and head out to their station wagon. “Maybe you should come home with us for dinner,” Celia said, still looking concerned.
Before Jen could reply, a big Escalade drove up.
Emmett Briscoe got out.
Cy looked at Jen, protective as always. “Do you want us to stay?”
“No.”
Cy looked at the aging rancher headed their way. “You sure about this?”
She nodded. “Emmett and I have a few things to talk about. Preferably alone.”
&n
bsp; “Okay, but you call us if you change your mind,” Cy said.
Jen thanked them, then ushered Emmett into the gallery. She noted with a pang that both his hands and one knee were shaking.
Looking as if he felt a little weak, he sat down in a chair, opened his briefcase on his lap and then got right down to business. “I have the contracts for the Emmett Briscoe museum. They need to be signed immediately,” he told her gruffly.
A couple weeks ago, Jen would have jumped at this opportunity. Now, because of all that had happened, it just created a boulder-size pit in the bottom of her stomach.
Oblivious to her dismay, Emmett continued briskly, “My attorney will let you know how to contact me, once I’m settled, because I want to be kept informed of how the museum is progressing.”
“Will Matt know how to get in touch with you, too?”
Emmett handed over a thick file. “I’m still working on how I’m going to manage that.”
Jen passed the file right back to him. “Then my answer is no.”
Emmett held it as if it were nuclear waste. “I beg your pardon?”
Jen moved to the other side of her desk and sat down. Heartsick, but no less resolved, she rocked back in her chair and pressed her fingertips together. “I’m turning down your offer and—save the one sculpture I’m working on now and do plan to finish—ending our association.”
For a long moment, Emmett just stared at her. Then he set the file on her desk and rose, a little unsteadily, which confirmed Jen’s assessment that the rancher’s symptoms were getting worse. “Is it money?” he asked, clearly upset. “Am I not paying you enough? Because if it is—”
Jen lifted her palms. “No. For heaven’s sake, no—it’s not the money!” she said emotionally. What was it with rich people, anyway? Why did they think it always came down to cold hard cash?
Shakily, he settled back in his chair and gripped the armrests. “Then what is it?” he demanded.
Knowing honesty was always the best policy, Jen told it like it was. “I can’t do this, Emmett,” she said brokenly. “I thought I could take the situation with you and Matt the way I take everything—one day at a time.”
Emmett clasped his hands together hard, listening intently.
“I’d let you and Matt each handle your problems, and I would handle mine…and we’d all be accountable for our own actions.”
Her visitor continued working to quell the trembling in his hands, with little success. “Sounds good to me.”
Jen struggled to not get too involved. To not feel responsible for caring for this man who was unlike her father in so many ways—and so like him, too, in how he refused to let anyone get close, and refused to acknowledge his pain.
“It’s not good, Emmett.”
He stared at her in unhappy silence, begging her to change her mind.
Jen leaned across her desk, every bit as intent as he was. “You see…I know what’s going on with you.” She swallowed. “That you may be seriously ill and are refusing treatment, and worse…that you’re keeping your son in the dark about all of it.”
Emmett’s façade began to crack.
She sucked in a deep breath. “I know you think what you’re doing is in Matt’s best interest. But the truth is, you’re not behaving honorably at all.”
“I promised myself I would always protect him.”
“You’re not sparing Matt pain,” Jen countered. “You’re inflicting it on him. And as much as I care about Matt, as much as I would like to be able to just go to him and tell him the truth about my suspicions, I can’t do that.”
Emmett leaned back in his chair, his whole body suddenly, incredibly still. “Why not?” he challenged gruffly. “If you’re so convinced I’m in the wrong?”
Jen stood, picked up the folder and his briefcase and handed them to him. “Because it’s not my place, Emmett. It’s yours.” Aware that her heart was breaking for the second time that day, she helped him to his feet and ushered him to the door.
She hated to do this, especially when he had been so kind to her, but she knew it was best for all of them to make everyone, including her, toe the line. And that meant no more covering, no more enabling, no more trying to solve anyone else’s problems for them.
“So…this is it?” Emmett muttered, looking shocked that she had said no to him.
She nodded, her own mood grim. “Until you decide to treat Matt like the loving, wonderful, compassionate and caring man he is…” a lump rose in her throat, and she had to swallow back a sob to go on “…until you take steps to relieve me of this terrible secret you have entrusted me with…” a secret that has damn near ruined my life
“…I can’t see or have any dealings with either of you.”
* * *
“SHOULDN’T YOU BE OUT roping or riding or trying to figure out how best to woo Jen?” Emily asked.
Matt knew closing time had come and gone at the Daybreak Café.
The waitstaff had pretty much packed up and gone home. “Just thought I’d sit here and finish my coffee,” he grumbled. Maybe find some sympathy and understanding. “But if you want me to leave…”
Emily put her hand on his shoulder, then slid into the booth opposite him. “I have three brothers. And a husband. I know a lovesick man when I see one. What’s going on? Is Jen mad at you for punching out Vince Owens on her behalf the other night?” She sighed. “’Cause I have to tell you, as flattering as it can be to find yourself in the center of a manly brawl, it’s also a little embarrassing.”
Matt scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Jen had been gone three days. Three days that felt like three years. “I don’t regret punching Vince.” He would do it again in a heartbeat. “He had it coming for speaking to Jen that way.”
Emily peered at him. “Then what do you regret?”
Matt’s gut twisted. He still found the depth of Jen’s betrayal hard to accept. He choked the words out. “She’s been lying to me.”
Emily scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”
He flattened his palms on the tabletop. It was true, much as he didn’t want to believe it, either. “By omission.”
“Okay.” Emily listened compassionately. “I’m still not following, but…okay.”
Knowing it was time he confided in someone, got a second opinion, Matt pushed on. “My dad has been acting crazy. Jen knows something about what’s going on, but she won’t tell me anything. She just says I should ask him, which I have, and it’s done absolutely no good.”
“And you think her first loyalty should be to you.”
“Damn straight I do,” he said in a sulky voice.
“And you’re angrier at her than you are at your dad.”
Matt thought about the way he’d let Jen into his life, into his heart. Thought about the sexy, incredibly satisfying way they’d made love. “Hell, yes, I’m mad.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought we had something.” The kind of something that would have induced Jen to stay in Laramie County long after the sculpting gig had ended. That would have kept her on his ranch, in his life, in his bed. That would have led to a happily ever after that hadn’t been in the cards for him until she’d entered his life.
“Something special,” Emily prodded gently, trying to get him to qualify it.
“Special” didn’t even begin to cover how Jen had made him feel. But knowing there were no words to adequately describe the tenderness she’d brought forth in him, or the heat of their passion, or the way they shared the most intimate details of their lives with each other, he simply shrugged. “Yeah.”
Emily studied him, like the sister he wished he’d had. “And now…?”
Matt grimaced as the hard facts of the situation brought him back to a reality he would rather not face. “How special can what we shared be if Jen sides with my father over me? If her first allegiance is to anyone but me?”
“Is that what’s she doing? Or is she just respecting a confidence?”
“What’
s the difference?” He glowered across the table.
“Well, a lot.” Emily got up and brought over two clean mugs and a pot of coffee. “If someone comes to you and tells you something he doesn’t want anyone else to know, then you have to honor that.” She cleared the old mug away and filled the two new ones.
“Even if that person is making a mistake? Or a lot of mistakes? Really big ones?”
Emily went back to the counter and returned with some freshly baked cookies. “I heard what your dad is doing, starting a museum. I think it’s great. He’s going to help a lot of new, young artists, including Jen.”
Matt blew out a breath and tried to make sense of the latest bombshell his father had dropped on him. “Jen’s not going to be a part of it.”
“You’re kidding.”
He thought about how dejected his father had looked when he’d relayed the news. As if he couldn’t believe what Jen had done, either. As if he felt kicked in the gut, as Matt did.
He gestured inanely. “Under the circumstances, she thought someone else should take over running of the museum.”
Emily stirred cream in her coffee. “That’s a pretty major sacrifice. Especially for someone who’s just on the cusp of really making it as an artist.” She sipped, then rested her chin on her fist. “I don’t know if I could be that unselfish.”
Matt knew where this was going. “You might as well say it,” he ordered grumpily, quaffing his fresh coffee so quickly he burned his throat. “You think I’m being a horse’s rear end.”
“What I think is that you’re unfairly holding Jen responsible for things that are out of her control. She never asked to be caught between you and your dad. Emmett put her in that situation, and then you made it worse.”
Matt’s gut roiled from too much acid and too little food. “If she had just told me what was going on with Dad…”
“Then your father would have been ticked off at her. So even if you were happy that she’d caved, Emmett wouldn’t be, and you would all still end up miserable. Face it, Matt,” Emily chided. “There are only two people who can fix this. And Jen isn’t one of them.”
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