Reparation (5 page)

I glance over at the
bar and take Matt in. He’s leaning against it casually,
watching a basketball game that’s on the TV while he waits for
my drink. Do I love him? Or am I just drunk? Can it be both?

No immediate answer
comes to mind, and I realize I’m not quite the philosopher I
thought I was just a few minutes ago.

“I don’t
know,” I tell Macy. “I know I’m ridiculously happy
with him. He’s given me everything I asked for.”

“Well, you’ll
know when you know. For now—enjoy the ride. And I do mean that
with every bit of sexual innuendo I can muster.”

Looking back at Matt
again, I tell her, “Oh, he’s giving me the ride of a
lifetime. I’m definitely enjoying it.”

***

After that one last
Slippery Nipple, Matt convinces me it’s time to head home. When
we walk into the apartment, Matt says goodnight to Macy and drags me
back into my bedroom. I wave at Macy, and she shoots me a smile that
says,
I’m really happy for you, Mac
.

At least I hope
that’s what the smile means. Or it could mean,
I hope you
don’t puke on your shoes but if you do, it’s Matt’s
problem
.

As soon as my
bedroom door is closed, I spin toward Matt and reach out for his belt
buckle. My fingers fumble for a second but then his hands close over
mine, quieting my movement. “No way, baby. You’re too
drunk.”

I make a
pffft
sound, which, in hindsight, really makes me sound drunk. “But
honey… I want it.”

I’m going for
seductive and sexy, but I think I may be coming off as drunkenly
whorish. To my relief, Matt gives me a soft smile and pulls me into a
hug. He kisses the top of my head, and I can’t help but sigh in
contentment to be wrapped up in him.

“You can have
it,” he assures me. “Tomorrow…when you’re
sober. So for now, go brush your teeth and takes some aspirin.”

I huff and puff but,
honestly, the room is sort of spinning, so I totter off to do what he
says. After brushing my teeth and popping two Tylenol, I quickly
remove all of my clothes, leaving them lying on my bathroom floor. I
probably am too drunk to have sex, and seriously, I don’t want
to have sex with Matt and not remember it. That would be a freakin’
travesty.

When I come out of
the bathroom, Matt is lying in my bed. His chest is bare, and the
covers are pulled up to his waist. I know him well enough to know
that he’s completely naked underneath. He loves to sleep in the
buff.

Although I’m
drunk, I still have enough of my wits to enjoy the hotness of Matt
Fucking Connover in my bed. He looks like perfection lying there.

I crawl over him to
reach my side, wrestling my way under the covers and collapse beside
him in a fit of giggles. Scooting closer to him, I put my head on his
chest while his arm comes around to hold me close. Reaching out to
the lamp beside the bed, he turns it off and plunges us into total
darkness.

And as always
happens when you’ve had too much alcohol and the inhibitions
are completely obliterated, I lay it all out on the line.

“Hey, Matt?”
I whisper loudly. Really, really loudly.

“Yeah.”

“I think I
love you.”

I’m met with
silence, but he squeezes me in response. I wait for something else,
but he remains quiet.

“I’ll
probably regret saying that tomorrow, but I just had to say it.”

“You won’t
remember it tomorrow, Mac.”

“Yes, I will,”
I assure him with confidence. “I may not remember telling you,
but I will remember I love you. That’s just not something I can
forget.”

He leans over and
glides his lips over my forehead. “You’re something else,
Mac.”

His words are soft
and genuine. He is not displeased by my proclamation. I may not get
the words back in return, but I know that our relationship just got a
little deeper.

There have been many
times over the last several weeks that I’ve been nervous in my
relationship with Matt. The first time we met and I stripped in front
of him, my first day of work when I realized he was my boss, and my
drunken proclamation that I loved him.

Yes, those were all
moments of extreme apprehension.

And yet, none of
them compared to the way I feel right this moment before I knock on
his apartment door.

Matt has Gabe this
weekend. It wasn’t his regularly scheduled visitation, but his
ex-wife called him late last night and asked if he could take him.
She apparently wanted to take an impromptu weekend trip with her new
boy toy.

Of course, Matt
jumped all over it. If there is one thing I’ve come to know
about Matt, he loves Gabe beyond all measure. His entire reason for
living is that little boy.

I was in no way
disappointed when he told me last night—Friday night—that
he had to go pick up Gabe and wouldn’t be able to see me. I had
just been packing up my briefcase with some weekend work when he had
come into my office to give me the bad news.

Except… it
wasn’t bad news. When he told me he needed to forsake me in
favor of Gabe, I was genuinely happy for him and I made sure he knew
that. He gave me a soft kiss goodbye and murmured, “I’m
not sure I deserve you.”

Those words alone
made it all worthwhile.

But then Matt called
me this morning—Saturday—and asked if I wanted to go with
him and Gabe to Coney Island for the afternoon.

I had asked, “Are
you sure, Matt? You want me to meet Gabe?”

He never even
hesitated. “Absolutely.”

But now the
nervousness abounds because, holy hell… what if Gabe hates me?
If he hates me, there is no future for Matt and me… no matter
how good the sex is.

With moist palms, I
knock on the door and, when it opens, I’m staring at a little
miniature Matt. Dark brown hair and soft amber eyes. He smiles at me
and, woe to his future girlfriends, he even has Matt’s dimples.

“Hi,”
Gabe says. “Dad says come on in. He’s just finishing up
some work.”

“Thanks,”
I tell him as I walk into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind
me. “I’m McKayla. But you can call me Mac. All my best
friends do.”

“Want to play
Wii bowling with me?” he asks, not even acknowledging my name
but instead, focusing on what’s really important to little
boys.

Before I can even
answer, I’m completely enchanted when he takes my hand and
leads me into the living room. “I’m really good. I beat
Dad all the time, and I’ll probably beat you.”

Chattering away,
Gabe sets up my avatar and hands me the Wii controller. After
explaining the basics to me, we begin the game.

Gabe clearly plays
the Wii a lot because he gets strike after strike. He’s a
little ham too, because every time he does, he does a little dance in
front of the TV and yells, “In your face, Mac.”

We’ve only
been playing for about twenty minutes when Matt comes out of his back
office. I’m just getting ready to bowl when he says, “Poor
form, Mac. I think you need to bend over a little more.”

I shoot a smirk over
my shoulder at him and say, “Behave yourself.”

Chuckling, Matt sits
down on the couch and watches his son totally beat my ass again. Gabe
shrieks in glee, mocking my defeat at the hands of a child.

Laughing, I hand the
controller back over to him. “You are just too good, Gabe. I’ll
never be able to beat you.”

Turning to his dad,
he says, “Want to play?”

Matt reaches out and
tousles Gabe’s hair. The look on his face is one of
overwhelming love for his child, and it shoots a ping of joy through
my heart. “Maybe later, buddy. Let’s get ready to head
out to Coney Island. Go get your shoes on.”

Gabe leaps up and
yells, “Hooray,” before he takes off running to his room.

Matt turns to me and
crooks his finger. “Get over here and give me a proper hello.”

There’s no
room for hesitation. I willingly walk up to Matt and let him pull me
down onto his lap. His lips find mine in one fluid move, and he’s
giving me a kiss that is possessive and deep.

It’s also
brief because that type of kissing usually leads to hands wandering
and clothes shedding, and we, of course, cannot do that with Gabe
here. He pulls back with a sigh. “So, what do you think of
Gabe?”

Matt’s words
are full of pride.

“He’s
wonderful,” I assure him, and then I ponder a moment. “He’s
you.”

The light in Matt’s
eyes over my words shines bright. He knows his son is wonderful, and
the fact I just said his son is just like him means that he is
wonderful, too.

Gabe comes tearing
back into the room and I start to get off Matt’s lap, but he
holds me tight. There’s apparently no personal space to a
seven-year-old because he runs to the couch and jumps on both Matt
and me. “I need you to tie my shoes, Dad.”

“Nope,”
Matt says. “You know how to do it.”

“I forget
how,” he pouts.

“Well…
I heard that in order to get into Coney Island, you have to prove you
can tie your shoes. If you can’t do it, we can’t go.”

Gabe looks at his
dad, trying to determine if what he is saying is true. He’s a
smart kid though and not willing to risk rejection at Coney Island.
He pushes away from Matt and me and starts tying his shoes.

Little stinker.

I look at Matt and
giggle, and he just shrugs his shoulders. “All the negotiations
skills I learned as a lawyer have been invaluable raising a child.”

When Gabe finishes
with his laces, he reaches over and grabs Matt’s hand. “Come
on, Dad. Let’s go.”

Matt and I stand up
from the couch and start walking toward the door. He grabs his wallet
and car keys off a table in the foyer.

“What do you
want to do at Coney Island today?” Matt asks Gabe.

Gabe starts rattling
off his agenda at about a hundred miles an hour. “I want to
ride the Cyclone, play skeeball, eat hot dogs and cotton candy, and
then go to the beach, and then we can ride the Cyclone again. I’ll
ride it once with you, and then Mac can ride it with me.” He
continues chattering, and I’m staring at him in wonder because
it’s amazing to me that a child can talk for that length of
time and not even pause to take a breath.

Matt opens the door
while my eyes are helplessly pinned to Gabe as he continues his
speech. We start to follow Matt out but he comes to an abrupt stop,
and I run into his back.

Looking up and
around Matt’s shoulder, I see a woman standing in the hallway.
She was apparently getting ready to knock.

She’s
stunning. Pale blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and huge boobs. She’s
every man’s wet dream.

For a brief moment,
I think this is some woman that Matt is seeing behind my back. But
then I immediately take in the way that Matt’s shoulders
stiffen and his jaw muscle starts popping. A sure sign that he is not
a happy camper.

Then it becomes
clear who this is.

Matt grits out,
“Marissa… what are you doing here?”

So this is Matt’s
ex-wife. The one that screwed around on him. The one that left him
with a bitter heart and made my work all that much harder.

The look she gives
Matt chills my bones. It’s calculating and vindictive. She
pushes past Matt into the apartment, and I have to step back so she
doesn’t run me over. “I’ve had a change in plans,
so I’m here to get Gabe.”

Turning to me, she
says, “And you are?”

Well, this is
awkward. Do I stick my hand out and introduce myself? Before I can
even think what to say, Gabe grabs ahold of Marissa’s hand and
says, “This is Mac, Mommy. She’s daddy’s friend.”

Marissa’s eyes
roam up and down me briefly, and then they are dismissive. Turning to
Matt, she says, “I don’t appreciate you bringing your
flavor of the week around our son.”

Matt’s eyes
flash in anger, but his voice is completely calm. “Marissa…
I’m not doing this with you. Not in front of Gabe. We’re
on our way out to Coney Island. I can bring him by your place later
this evening.”