18. Matty
Chapter 18
Matty
I SHOULDN’T BE as nervous as I am. She knows me. She knows me.
She knew who I was when we…did what we did…and I have never been self-conscious about sex or myself, but suddenly I am.
It’s not embarrassing, exactly, but it’s unnerving. Like she had an unfair advantage.
The thing is…I think I know who it is. Who she is. Despite all logic. Despite a long-buried, un-inspected wish.
Regardless of whether it’s her or not, I’m still getting there an hour ahead. She had me beat the last time we met, and now, it’s my turn.
I wear my cowboy boots, as promised, along with my favorite jeans and a dark teal T-shirt that Willa always says makes my eyes ‘pop,’ whatever that means. I feed Hedgie and the dogs, then crate Killer with his favorite stuffed lamb before heading to the bar.
Anthony is behind the bar as always. He uncaps my favorite beer, a pilsner from the brewery in town, without me so much as asking, and it’s sliding into my hand as I ease onto the stool.
“By yourself?”
“Meeting someone.”
He nods and turns away without another word. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. The man couldn’t be more different from his gossip-mongering brother if he tried.
I take a swig of the beer. And another, and another, until it’s gone and Anthony is sliding another in front of me. I’m halfway through it when a flash of yellow in my periphery has me turning.
My vision narrows to pinpoints, and everything else gets blurry. I grip the glass like it’s going to keep me from drowning.
A faint humming sounds in my ears, and it’s impossible to think as I scan her head to toe, the entire world grinding to a halt as I try to make sense of the woman in front of me. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I can’t speak. My brain is malfunctioning. I’ve glitched.
Goldie Dash.
The woman I suspected, but didn’t dare hope for.
Looking at me as though she’s in trouble and biting her lip. A lip I’ve tasted.
“You,” I croak.
She nods wordlessly.
I force my jaw shut and swallow thickly. “Holy shit.”
She perches on the stool next to me, one foot resting on its rung and the other tipped on the floor, clearly ready to bolt at the slightest misstep as my life flashes in front of me.
Goldie running to catch up with me and Willa. Goldie building sandcastles with us on the beach. Goldie’s hand as we walked home, pudgy and sticky in mine after too many popsicles. Goldie in middle school, Goldie as a sophomore when we were seniors. Goldie here. Goldie there. Goldie everywhere.
Goldie. Goldie.
Reality is crashing over me in waves as I stare at her. Is this okay? Am I okay?
Oh, God. I’ve seen her. And she’s seen me.
It was the hottest night of my life.
With my best friend’s little sister.
It’s a freaking trope from a romance novel. I’ve read this book before. Only this is real fucking life. My life.
“You,” I breathe again. “Your hair.”
“Temporary wash.”
“Your tattoo.”
“Covered by the gloves.
“Your voice.”
“Easily changed,” she says, sounding like Dawn.
“And your scent,” I whisper.
Her lips curve. “Didn’t change.”
I nod, everything locking into place. Of course it was her. How could it have been anyone but her?
She remains quiet, meeting my gaze unflinchingly.
Anthony saunters over. “Tito’s and water with a lime?”
She startles at his gruff voice. “Please.” When his back turns, she mutters, “I’m gonna need it.”
A soft, disbelieving laugh escapes me as her eyes lift back to mine.