16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
The plush cushions on the chair do nothing to ease my discomfort.
The sharp smell of acetone mingles with lavender, enveloping the air in the salon.
The salon is ridiculously small, seeming to fit only five people at a time. But Mom claims it’s no ordinary salon and that we should be privileged to have gotten an appointment here.
So, here I am, pretending to be comfortable as Mom scrutinizes a row of nail polish bottles with the same gravity one might reserve for signing a will.
“Bonding,” she called it when she dialed my number this morning. “A little girl time with me and your sister.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the idea of suffocating in a godforsaken salon doesn’t sit well with me. Low pop music plays in the background. Every nook and cranny of the tiny space is so harshly pink. Like colors being thrown at my face.
It makes me hate pink.
Dinner with my family and Matthew was a near disaster. Now, they’ve been making an effort to reconnect.
I should see it as a good thing, especially since it’s the one thing I’ve been hoping for the last five years. But now, I’m not so sure what I’m supposed to feel.
Mom’s voice snatches me from my thoughts.
“Coral or rose?” she muses aloud, holding two bottles to the light. Her eyes are sharp but the wings of her eyeliner are even sharper.
“Coral,” Ella chimes in, as she moves her phone around to take pictures of the salon. “Obviously,” she adds with an eye roll.
“I was thinking Rose,” Mom says, glancing at her designer wear. “They match my dress.”
I stay quiet, staring at my black polish, a shade I’d chosen to escape the pastel parade my family seems to worship. Mom and Ella haven’t noticed, just like they haven’t noticed how silent I’ve been since we walked into this place.
This so-called bonding experience feels more like a stage play, one where I have no lines. Not once have they asked about Leo or what it’s been like raising him on my own. I’m just a spectator, a background character sitting on the sidelines while Mom and Ella take center stage.
Maybe it’s my fault for not being like them. It’d be better if we shared similar superficial interests. But I’ve got too much on my plate to be worried about the perfect shade of pink polish or what spa treatment to choose.
Ethan and Fara remain MIA, their absence gnawing at me. I don’t know if visiting them is a good idea, but I’m running out of excuses to keep ignoring it.
“Hailey, what do you think?” Mom’s voice cuts through my thoughts, her sharp gaze snapping to me.
I blink, shifting in my seat. “About what?”
Irritation flashes in her eyes. “I’ve been talking about booking a facial or a massage next week. Were you not listening at all?”
“Uh, either works,” I mumble.
Ella snorts, her smile dripping with sarcasm. “How helpful.”
Mom sighs and places the polish bottle back on the counter as her phone buzzes with a text notification. She glances down and brightens slightly. “It’s your father. He says we shouldn’t be late for the golf.”
“I don’t know how to play,” I admit.
“That’s sad,” Ella snickers, not bothering to hide her amusement.
Mom ignores her. “You don’t have to. What’s important is that you bring Matthew along, all right?”
Of course. Of course, she’d say that. My presence here doesn’t matter. How I’m coping as a single mom doesn’t matter either. What matters is the shiny, presentable ‘son-in-law’ they believe I’ve brought to them.
It shouldn’t surprise me, but it still does. The disappointment hits harder than I want to admit. What’s worse is the stubborn flicker of hope I can’t quite extinguish―the hope that this isn’t just a waste of time, that someday they’ll see me for who I really am.
Hours later, I’m standing on the sprawling green lawns of an exquisite golf club. The late afternoon sun bathes the golf course in a golden glow, but I feel anything but warm.
I stand at the side, my grip tight on the golf club, watching as my family cluster around the green.
Dad, who always finds a way to make himself the center of attention, instructs Matthew on his swing (despite being told that Matthew isn’t a rookie), while Ella and John lounge in a golf cart nearby, swiping through their phones and occasionally laughing at some inside jokes.
Leo tugs at my sleeve, his cute face scrunched in boredom. “Mom, can I go sit under that tree?” he whispers, pointing at a shady spot a few yards away.
I give him a small smile and nod, ruffling his curls. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”
A part of me is jealous as I watch him scurry off, wishing I could escape just as easily.
“Hailey, come on!” Dad calls, impatiently waiting for me to step up to the green. “You can’t just stand there. Show us what you’ve got.”
I hesitate, biting back a refusal. I’m not good at this. I was eighteen the last time I played golf, and dad made it painfully clear that I lacked any real talent.
Still, I step forward, aware of Matthew’s gaze on me as I line up my shot.
His hand meets my shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring.
“Careful, Hailey,” Ella calls from the cart, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Matthew.”
John snickers. “Too late.”
Their words don’t irritate me. It’s the smugness in their tone.
Beads of sweat roll down my chest, nestling in my cleavage. My jaw tightens as I take a shot, but it veers wide of the hole. An embarrassing distance apart.
My mediocrity doesn’t surprise Dad in the slightest. Instead, it irritates him.
“This isn’t a difficult game, Hailey,” he frowns, disappointment bleeding off his words. “I’m embarrassed.”
My face burns, but I don’t respond. I toss the club away, fed up with pretending I’m comfortable here. But before I can say anything, mom’s voice rings out.
“She used to be such a klutz when she was growing up,” she chuckles, touching Matthew’s arm.
“When it came to sports, she was only good at basketball. She’d always come back sweaty and dirty, messed up hair, scraped knees and whatnot.
I always told her she could bs a cheerleader instead or play something more refined. Like Tennis. But she never listened.”
Then she turns to me, adjusting her sunglasses. “You know, sweetie, you’re really lucky Matthew’s stuck around. With how chaotic your life is, I can’t imagine anyone else putting up with it.”
She says these things so sweetly, you’d think she was complimenting me. But she’s not, and I’m used to being slapped on the face with words that reduce me to my struggles and shortcomings.
And she’s right. My life is chaotic after all, but I don’t think she, of all people, or anyone else in this family for that matter, should have the right to tell me that.
“Mom,” I say, my voice steady but tight, “my life isn’t chaotic. I’ve built a stable home for Leo―”
“Stable?” my brother interrupts, his tone dismissive. “You let that poor kid be fathered by a bastard mechanic drunk.”
“Exactly,” Ella agrees. “Let’s be real, Hailey. You wouldn’t have managed without Matthew.”
Mom swiftly delivers another statement, before I can come up with a comeback. “And honestly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t left you yet. I’m your mother and I admit that you are exhausting to keep up with, darling. But thank goodness he’s here to keep you afloat.”
My hands ball into fists by my sides. Tears burn the back of my eyes and anger pushes me to respond. But just before I can get any vile words that will ruin everything, Matthew speaks.
“That’s enough,” he says, his voice sharp and cold as ice.
Everyone turns to him, shocked by the 360 degree change in his demeanor. His usual easygoing charm is long gone now, replaced by an intensity that makes everyone fall silent.
I rarely see him as angry as this. His expression mirrors the one that overtook his face when Ethan engaged him.
“Do you even hear yourselves?” he demands, his voice rising with barely contained anger. “Day by day, Hailey does everything possible and impossible to raise her son. She works a demanding job and holds everything together on her own. She’s not ‘lucky’ to have me. If anything, I’m the lucky one.”
Dad blinks, clearly taken aback by his anger. “It’s all goose talk, Matthew. I assure you that they didn’t mean―”
“No, you did,” Matthew cuts him off, glaring at each of them in turn.
“You’ve spent the entire day belittling her, ignoring everything she’s accomplished, and treating her like she’s a burden.
Do you have the faintest idea of how insulting that is?
How hurtful? Do you know how hard she tries to be a part of this family?
And yet, with every effort she makes, you all do well to demean it.
“She doesn’t need anyone to stay afloat,” he continues, shoving his golf club into the bag. “She’s more than capable of standing on her own. And frankly, she deserves a hell of a lot more respect than she’s been given today. Don’t expect me sit back and watch you bully my woman.”
My woman.
Dad, normally unshakable, is quiet for once in his life. My siblings are silent as well, their smugness fading. John looks at his hands like a lost puppy and Ella is red with embarrassment.
Mom awkwardly clears her throat, about to speak. But Matthew cuts her off before she even begins by striding toward me and grabbing my wrist.
“We’re done here,” he says, his gaze fixed firmly on me. My heart is a mess behind my ribcage as I lose myself in his eyes. “Come on.”
Without waiting for a response, he walks over to Leo, releasing his grip on me to help gather his things. I stand there, legs shaky and breath heavy, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel invisible in the presence of my family.
We’re quiet as we walk away from the course, fingers brushing while the golden light of the setting sun casts long shadows behind us.
Leo runs a few steps ahead, blissfully chasing his shadow, unaware of the quiet tension that hangs between me and Matthew.
I’m struggling to gather my thoughts, not sure of the first thing to say.
But Matthew breaks the silence. “You’re not mad, are you?”
“Mad?” I echo, glancing up at him. He’s staring straight ahead, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a tight line like he’s bracing for my disapproval.
“About what I said back there,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I know I overstepped, but I don’t regret it, Hailey. I couldn’t just stand there and listen to them talk to you like that.”
“No,” I say quickly. “No, I’m not mad. I’m just―” I pause, searching for the right word, my voice softer as I continue. “I’m grateful. To be honest, no one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”
Matthew looks at me then, his expression relaxing as he lets out a breath I hadn’t realized he was holding. “Good. Because I meant every single word I said today.”
I nod, looking away, pretending like my heart isn’t pounding. His words play on a loop in my head, each one hitting harder than the last.
Matthew sees me―he truly sees me―in a way no one else has, and it makes my chest ache with a mix of gratitude and something else I’m too afraid to name.
He starts to say something else, but I don’t hear the rest. I can’t. The more he speaks, the more my emotions swirl into this storm that I can barely contain.
Instead of listening, I’m staring at him, taking in the way his eyes light up as he speaks, the way his hair catches in the sunlight, and the quiet passion in his voice as he takes my side.
My chest tightens and I don’t realize how hard I’m gripping the strap of my bag until my knuckles turn white. Every word he says, every glance he spares my way, only makes the feelings I’ve been trying so hard to suppress bubble up to the surface.
They’re not mere feelings anymore. No. They’re far from it.
I’m falling for this man. It’s not an easy fall. It’s a chaotic tumble to the ground.
It hits me like a tidal wave because no matter how much I try to fight it, I can’t stop the overwhelming urge to reach out, to close the stupid little space between us and kiss the shit out of him.
But I don’t. I can’t.
Instead, I force myself to focus on the movement of his lips, nodding along as if I’m still paying attention.
“You sure you’re okay?” Matthew asks suddenly, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. He stops walking, his brows drawing together as he studies me.
I blink, realizing that I’ve stopped too. “Yeah,” I say quickly, my voice a little too high-pitched, too breathless. “I’m fine. Just…thinking.”
“About what?”
About how much I need to kiss you right now.
“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Just everything you said back there. It meant a lot to me.”
His expression softens, his perfect mouth curving into a small smile. “Good. Because you mean a lot to me.”
My breath hitches, and for a moment. I think I’ve lost my battle against the pull I feel toward him. But then Leo calls out from ahead, snapping me back to focus.
“Mom, look!” he shouts, holding up a weirdly shaped rock he’s found.
I turn, grateful for the distraction. My cheeks are scorching hot as I call back, “That’s great, sweetie.”
When I look back at Matthew, his gaze lingers on me, my body hot under his scrutiny.
“Come on,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “We should catch up with Leo.”
Matthew nods, a tiny smile on his lips, as he falls into step beside me. He’s all I can think about as we head toward his car.
On the drive home, my thoughts grow lustful so badly that I have to cross my legs tightly and look out the window so he won’t see just how much I want him.
Matthew Pierce is a psychic mind reader. That’s good enough for me. Because if he knew what I was indecently thinking of right now in the confines of his car, I’d be six feet under from embarrassment.