Little Miss Lovesick (15 page)

My hands moved to his waist. The shirt he wore was so soft. One of his hands brushed tears from my cheek, then tangled in my hair as he pulled me closer. I let my arms wrap around his back. Soft shirt and hard muscle and warm kisses, all making me crazy with sensation.

Matt backed off the kiss.

In embarrassment, I rested my forehead on his shirt. I sniffled and tried to pretend our first kiss had not been marred by tears. Matt’s arms wrapped tightly around me, one hand stroking my hair. I felt safe and protected for the first time in a really long time. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. Now woul
d
no
t
be the time for a good cry.

I cried anyway.

I felt him kick the door closed and lean against it. He held me close and stroked my head and back while all the stress of the last week rushed out. In a few moments, I felt drained but better
.
Embarrasse
d
, but better.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his cheek on my hair and his voice soft near my ear. “And tonight. And the times I’ve ignored you.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what was coming, either. He must’ve felt my tension because he started rubbing my back again.

“I’ve worked for GT for a long time,” he said. “He’s a good guy, but he gets too involved in other people’s personal lives. He doesn’t understand boundaries.”

I humphed. Boy, did I know that.

“I was…” Matt paused, either trying to find the words or trying to decide if he should speak them. “…involved with a woman a few years ago. I thought it might become, you know, permanent.”

Wow, this guy couldn’t eve
n
sa
y
the word marriage. Did I know how to pick ’em or what?

“We were working things out in our own way, but GT got it in his head that we needed help. Instead of patching things up, we ended up not speaking to each other.” He sighed. “Have you ever met someone and right away you just clicked?”

I smiled into his shirt.

Oh
,
hav
e
w
e
, exclaimed Lovesick.

“But you weren’t prepared and you acted stupid and then you had to figure out how to fix it?” He pulled away a little and tipped up my chin, looking into my watery eyes.

“That’s what happened with her?” I asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “Tell me what to do to fix it.”

I stared up into those beautiful blue eyes and felt safer than I had in years. Getting a glimpse of Matt’s heart, I felt the raw wounds of my own heart begin to heal.

CHAPTER 16

THE next week flew by. Matt and I were both “summer-busy.” In Northern Michigan, particularly in our fields, the lion’s share of the work has to be done during the non-snowing months. Which forced our relationship to a snail’s pace. But we made important progress on “fixing” it.

When I came over to show GT some houses Friday morning, Matt smiled and talked to me for a moment like we were old friends. I didn’t embarrass him by acting like anything more than a fellow professional. He didn’t embarrass me by pretending I didn’t exist. Then we went back to work. Easy. Simple.

In a better mood, I didn’t take offense to GT’s touchy-feely nature as I walked him through a house. (Of course, I was so relieved we’d found one he actually wanted t
o
se
e
, nothing could’ve bothered me.)

Emily and I got in a couple quick conversations on the phone, enough to catch up on each other’s blossoming love lives. She about swooned when I told her how Matt asked “what to do to fix it.” We giggled and sighed. She said Geoffrey had nervously asked her if she wanted to go fishing next weekend. She was afraid she’d make a fool of herself, but she was excited. I assured her she’d be great.

I was doing paperwork in my office one afternoon the following week when my cell phone rang. Absently, I picked it up and hit Talk as I continued typing on the computer.

“This is Sydney.”

“Hi, Sydney.”

My hands stopped on the keyboard. My stomach tightened.

“What do you want?” I tried to take a deep breath and relax. I’d thought I was getting over him until he showed up again. Life wa
s
no
t
showing me its best side lately.

“I want to see you again.”

“No.” I resumed typing.

“Too busy with your new boyfriend?”

Breathe. Don’t let him get to you. “Dirk, you’re the one who ended our relationship.”

“I know. I made a mistake. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“No.” I backspaced a typo and tried again.

“Did you like the flowers? And the chocolates?”

I’d gotten a fresh vase of flowers and another box of chocolates on Monday. “Please don’t send any more.”

“I bet you didn’t throw them away.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think so. They’re sitting on your desk, aren’t they?”

“No. They’re not.” It was true. The newest ones were sitting on Carmen’s desk. Last week’s flowers still looked nice, so they decorated the conference table. I shared the truffles with everyone who came by. That was going ove
r
grea
t
with new clients.

“Listen, I understand that you might be seeing someone just to get back at me, or because you’re lonely or bored—”

I clenched my teeth and hung up.

The phone rang again. I let it go to voice mail.

I went back to work, finishing the paperwork at a slow burn. I wa
s
so angr
y
. I knew I had to let it go, but boy! I wanted to punch something.

Done with the office work, I went out to look at some properties. I had three other ready-to-buy clients besides GT, and I was hustling. Driving made me feel better. The tourists were annoying and the traffic was always clogged and slow in the summer, but I love driving, especially since I bought the Sportage. I’d never had a new ca
r
o
r
an SUV. Awesome.

I pulled through a drive-thru for lunch and drove up the East Bay side of Old Mission Peninsula. The weather was perfect today, breezy and blue and eighty degrees.

I sighed with pleasure. This is better.

My mind wandered. What was I going to do about Dirk? Maybe if I heard him out, he’d leave me alone. It was something to consider. But it wa
s
no
t
true that I was lonely or bored and that was why I was seeing Matt.

We’d had lunch on Sunday and — of all things — made a trip to Home Depot. We both needed to go and so — we went. Matt dropped me back at my car, we unloaded my things from his truck, talked for about twenty minutes, then decided to get ice cream. It was nearly five o’clock by the time we were back at my car again.

We talked for another couple of minutes, then Matt kissed me goodbye. It was a very nice kiss, too, considering we were out in public. Warm and sweet and — well, leaving me wanting more. But it was nice.

I turned down a side road looking for a house that might interest an older couple I was helping. I sighed in frustration. I couldn’t find it. I turned around and tried again.

GT had faxed me another list that morning of things he wanted for his mother-in-law. I tried to point out that some of them were contradictory like “low maintenance” and “pool and spa.” But he told me when I called that he didn’t have time. He had to fix a problem with a company in New York. And he left.

Okay. Fine. We’ll discuss it when he gets back. Meanwhile, I’ll continue to look for houses that hav
e
mos
t
of the qualities he wants.

Darn it! I pulled the car over and took out the listing. It read “1764 E. Plough Road.” There’s 1748 and 1770. And nary a house in between. What in the world?

A mailbox on the side of the road caught my eye. Painted neatly on the box was “1748 W. Plough Road.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” I turned around again. This wa
s
Wes
t
Plough Road. I had to go farther to get t
o
Eas
t
Plough Road.

Pebbles flew as I hit the gas. Everything in my life was further away than I wanted it to be. I figured I’d be married by now. I thought I’d own my own home by now. Nothing was turning out the way I expected.

By the end of the day, all I wanted to do was go home and take a long bath, maybe read a book. Maybe a really good romance novel where the girl ends up with the perfect man for her. Maybe a crime novel where the detective has to figure out if the girl really did murder her ex.

That evening, I was running the water in the tub, reading the backs of two novels, trying to decide which one to start, when I heard someone knocking. I opened the door and there was Dirk. Note to self
:
look through the freaking peephole next time!

I sighed in exasperation. Nice and long and loud so he’d get the point.

“Ten minutes,” he said. “You can time me.”

If it would get rid of him, I’d give him ten minutes. Good thing I bought a six-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade on the way home. The kiddie stuff wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

I opened the door further to let him in and took off my watch. I looked at it, then back at Dirk. “Go.”

We stood in the living room facing each other. He took a deep breath.

“Sydney, I meant it when I said I’d made a mistake. Lisa was — we weren’t suited. We’re not together—”

“So you’re coming back because you don’t have anyone else? Flattering, Dirk.”

“That’s not how it is. I love you. I’m just a typical idiot guy who doesn’t know how to — I don’t know. Have a relationship.”

“Pardon me, but I would think that four years together would rather disprove that theory.”

“I know, I know.” Dirk rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his shoes. “But that’s exactly what I mean! Why was I feeling like we were a mistake? Am I afraid to get married? Am I too old to enjoy sex with—”

The shocked look on my face must’ve stopped him. What? Sex with me? Sex with multiple partners? Sex with one person forever?

“What I mean is I miss you. Not, I miss someone. I mis
s
yo
u
. And I want to show you that you are the most important person in my life.”

I frowned at him. “Did you get fired?”

“No, I didn’t get fired.” He sounded angry. Obviously his work was as important to him as ever. Insulting that was worse than insulting his mother.

“Do you have cancer? Do you have six months to live?”

“No!” Now he was mad. Good.

“Then what made you suddenly change your mind afte
r
month
s
of silence? You never even called me to see how I was doing. That really doesn’t sound like someone who’s been pining away for his lost love.”

Oh crap, I forgot about the bathtub.

“Sydney, part of loving someone is forgiving them their faults and weaknesses.”

I held up my hand and marched toward the bathroom. “Shut up!”

“Syd—”

“Just hang on! And don’t follow me!”

I turned off the water and stomped back out. I hoped the downstairs neighbors weren’t home.

“Go on.” I said between clenched teeth, glancing at my watch.

“I was just saying that that’s what love is about. Marriage is forever. Are you saying if you got mad at me when we were married you would’ve just walked out? That’s it? No forgiveness?”

“If I walked out? I
f
I
walked out
?
Yo
u
walked out, asshole! You told me you were in love with another woman and that you were so sorry but you had to follow your heart! Do you remember any of this? Does it ring a bell?”

I felt like throwing something, and I would’ve if we were at his place. But I wasn’t about to break my own stuff.

“You’re right. I’m wrong. That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I’ve been trying to say it with words, but you won’t talk to me. I’ve used the time-honored tradition of apology — flowers and chocolate, but I—”

“And I told you to keep your flowers and chocolate! You’re wasting your money.”

I looked at my watch. “You have two minutes. Anything else?”

“Just one thing.” Dirk stepped closer and I forced myself not to retreat. “I love you. If you felt nothing, you wouldn’t be so angry. I want you to stop seeing that other guy and let me show you how much I care.”

I opened the door. “Let me show you how much I care.”

Dirk started through the door but paused on the doorstep. “I mean it. I’m going to prove to you that I love you.”

“Goodbye, Dirk.” I closed the door with enough force that he had to move or get hurt. I turned the lock as loudly as I could. Maybe the symbolism wouldn’t be lost on him.

I marched into the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of Mike’s and headed for the bathroom, picking up my two abandoned books on the way. I paused, tossed the romance novel onto the couch, and continued toward my bath with the crime novel.

I hoped it was bloody and awful.

As I eased into the hot water and closed my eyes, I thought about how long it had taken Dirk to even discuss what had happened.

I sighed. And waited. Nothing.

I looked over at the Mike’s and grabbed a cold bottle. It was a shock to my bath-heated hand. I took a couple swallows and rested the bottle and my arm on the side of the tub, so I could hang onto it with two fingers.

I just sat there staring at the bathtub wall. Waiting for the tears that always came.

“Huh,” I said aloud. “Two beers, but no tears. I’m making progress.”