“No, I mean—” he crossed to me and lifted his hands to touch me but I flinched away, causing him to release a frustrated sigh and pull his fingers through his hair, “I mean, I didn’t have sex with her. We kissed, but that’s it. I haven’t been with anyone since the crazy lady two years ago. There’s been no one until you.”
Startled, my mouth fell open and I blinked at him for several seconds as this information permeated my brain. “You didn’t?”
“No. I didn’t. But,” he reached for me again and I let him hold my arms, “yes. That was my plan. I’m not going to lie. Being with you all the time and not being able to . . .” He ground his teeth. “Not being able to touch you, be close to you, not in the way I wanted, was extremely frustrating. As much as I loved being with you, I hated how I felt after we spent time together.”
“How did you feel?” I asked numbly, trying to keep up.
“Not good.” He released a humorless laugh. “Like I wasn’t good enough, for you to—”
I cut him off with a kiss, unable to bear the rest of his words, and wrapped him in a tight hug. His hands came around me, immediately sliding to my bottom and squeezing, pressing my hips to his. But then in the next moment he’d ended the kiss, cradling my jaw in his palms.
“I’m not finished.”
“This is difficult to hear.” My stomach hurt, thinking that I’d caused him misery simply by being with him. “I want to make it up to you.”
“Then listen.”
I nodded, covering his hands with mine, bracing myself. “Okay. Okay. Tell me.”
“When I spotted you in the hall, I was happy to see you, as always. But then, you looked upset. Really upset. And surprised. And that confused me. But it also gave me hope.”
“Oh.” I blinked some more, processing his words and trying to figure out how I felt about them.
“You were who I wanted, and you were also unobtainable, off limits. But when I saw how upset you were, I made her coffee, apologized for wasting her time—admitted I was hung up on someone else—and sent her home. I texted you about coming over. You told me not to.”
“That’s what made you change your mind about long-term commitment? Seeing me hurt?”
“No. Not just seeing you hurt. I considered what it would feel like to see you with someone else.” Matt released another harsh laugh. “And, I have to tell you, it made me feel like shit. I hypothesized there existed a possibility that you were thinking about me the same way I’d been thinking about you, given the way you reacted. And if that was the case, if you were even a modicum as infatuated with me as I was with you—”
“Infatuated?”
“Besotted.”
“Besotted is better.” I nodded encouragingly.
“If you were besotted with me, even a very little, or were willing to give me a chance at something real, then I’d be an idiot not to try.” Tilting my chin up, he brushed a soft kiss against my lips, his tongue darting out at the last moment to taste me. “I had to do everything in my power to convince you to love me back.”
“Oh, Matt.” My fingers slid to his wrists, my heart fluttering. “Why didn’t you say something? When we went for coffee that Monday? Why not tell me all this then?”
He gathered a deep breath, his hands falling from my face, responding flatly, “You asked me to set you up with Dr. Merek.”
I winced. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.”
He shook his head at me, giving me a look of teasing disgust. “How could you?”
“What? He’s cute. I like his beard,” I teased back.
Matt’s mouth fell open with more teasing disgust. “He’s a psychologist, Marie.” Then, whispering loudly, he added accusingly, “It’s one of the soft sciences.”
I scoff-snorted. “Kerry was right. You are a snob.”
He smiled, I smiled, we smiled at each other, and then I released a sigh. Even though I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying around this burden of frozen feelings, with the exhaled breath I felt myself thaw.
“See? Aren’t you glad we talked about it?”
“Yes. You were right. I’m glad we . . . resolved that.”
“Is it resolved?” he asked imploringly, his expression turning stern. “We have to do things in order. I don’t want to have make-up sex until all the arguments are done.”
“But if we save some arguments for later, we get to make up more than once.” I reached for the waist of his jeans, widening my grin.
Still frowning down at me, although now it looked more like a suppressed smile than a frown, Matt’s hands lowered to my thighs, skimming his fingertips up the back of my legs. “You’re brilliant.”
“I know.”
He placed a featherlight kiss on my neck. “I love you.”
“I know that, too.”
“Talk to me, Marie.” His arms came around me once more, squeezing. “You have to talk to me, even when it hurts. Nothing will be right between us if you don’t.”
I nodded, returning his embrace. “I will,” I said, knowing that not every argument would have a happy ending. Yet, I trusted his goodness. I trusted he’d never knowingly hurt me, and I hoped he likewise knew I would never knowingly hurt him. That trust meant we had to give each other every opportunity to prove the other right.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t take Quinn up on his offer to hire a cleaning service.” Greg was holding his youngest daughter, now eleven days old, while helping his son sort through the materials list for middle school and order the items online.
“Because, Mr. Fiona, it’s more meaningful if we clean the apartment, because we do so with love. And Quinn and Janie will have to suffer through our love tomorrow.” Sandra was at the kitchen sink, washing the refrigerator’s crisper drawers. All the perishables were on the counter and Alex had bagged up the spoiled or old food for the trash.
Meanwhile, I was wiping out the inside of the fridge, scowling at a very stubborn, crystalized bit of goo. “What is this? I’m going to need a jackhammer.”
It was Tuesday evening and we’d all convened for our usual knit night gathering. But instead of knitting, we were cleaning Fiona and Greg’s apartment, making them dinner, and doing their laundry. Quinn and Janie were the only ones absent, but we’d made plans to clean their penthouse tomorrow.
Drew and Ashley had driven up from Tennessee. They were only staying for three days, but it was wonderful to have them even for a short period of time.
“The second bathroom is finished.” Kat walked in, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “I think we only have vacuuming left, but I want to wait until Fiona wakes up.”
“Is Dan still re-organizing Grace’s toys?” Sandra tossed over her shoulder. “Who knew he’d be so into color-coding Barbie doll shoes and arranging dream house furniture.”
Greg made a discontented face, but said nothing. I knew he didn’t like the fact that Grace owned Barbie dolls; he felt they perpetuated unrealistic and unhealthy ideas about female beauty.