Chapter 19 #2
“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Okay. Well, that’s cool, that’s cool.”
I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of me. “I’ll give you an A for your response, but you’d definitely fail acting class. I was joking. I had one serious relationship, a few situationships.”
“It would have been fine either way,” he says. Yet, the subtle drop in his shoulders tells me otherwise, almost like the thought of me with other men makes him… jealous. Which, again, doesn’t make sense.
“Well, that guy you were serious with,” he adds, “did he know how to get your mind off the job? Did he take care of you the way you needed?”
I have no idea how he does it, but time and again, he hits me right where I didn’t know it would hurt. He’s uncovering all my invisible wounds, one question after another. And I’m just standing here, clueless how to respond, trying to patch myself up before I bleed out on the floor.
“I mean, he was there, yeah. In some ways.” My nose stings, but I refuse to cry. “It’s my fault too. I missed so many… I wasn’t the best… You know, it’s not—”
He rests his hand on top of mine, and I snap my mouth shut. He’s done this so many times in the past two weeks, and yet this touch feels different. It grounds me.
I fill my lungs with air and exhale. “I don’t want to excuse my behavior by placing the blame on him. I was— am —busy. I did neglect him and our relationship.”
“Sure,” he concedes. “Maybe you could have been more present. But even after a few weeks of knowing you, I can’t imagine a world where you wouldn’t be involved in the life of the person you love.”
He studies me too closely and for too long.
I feel like I’m under a microscope. I’m tempted to make a run for it, but outside, the rain is still coming down hard. Not to mention I’d look like a crazy person.
So instead, I sink deeper in my seat, hoping it’ll somehow make me disappear.
“We weren’t compatible, that’s all,” I finally say. “It’s a poor explanation, but in hindsight, it’s also the truest one.
“Let me guess,” he chuckles half-heartedly. “He was the guy who said you weren’t good at sex?”
Throat clogging, I nod.
Matt huffs out a bitter snarl. “A real winner, this one.”
“I wish that was the worst of what he did.” The whispered words are only meant for me, but, of course, this man listens to everything I say with a keen ear.
Matt’s jaw works, his grip tightening mindlessly around his cup. “Why do I have an inkling of where this is going?”
I want to tell him all of it. Lay it all out—the hurt, the pain, the self-doubt.
I want to, but… instead, I freeze.
Where am I supposed to start? What am I supposed to say?
I’ve never truly opened up to anyone before.
Not about my life, my needs, my dreams. Certainly not about this .
No one knows how broken and ashamed I was, except my therapist, who sat through entire sessions while I sobbed and hurled insults at my ex and former best friend.
So putting this trauma into words, sharing the story with a man who hasn’t been paid to help me unpack it, borders on impossible.
Especially when the scars are still tender.
With a long sigh, I focus on the table in front of me and garner all the strength I have. “Jake and I were together for almost two years.”
“Sorry,” Matt cuts in. “You said Jake? Or Jerk?”
I smile, though I’m not sure he notices, given how tight the rest of my body is. “The last six months of our relationship, he cheated.” I pause, swallowing as the memories of that night flood back in. “With my now ex–best friend.”
Matt lets out a low whistle, sitting back in his chair. “Damn, Zoey. That’s… that’s cold. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s in the past now,” I say with a shrug.
“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less,” he replies. The rasp in his voice carries everything he doesn’t put into words. An understanding that only comes from someone who’s known the same kind of heartbreak.
“True.” I let out a shaky exhale. I lean in and take a sip of my coffee, the cup warming the still-cold tips of my fingers. “But I have to move on at some point… right?”
He nods, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond my shoulder, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against his mug. Then he looks at me in a way my heart can’t handle, his gaze slicing through my armor, as though it’s nothing more than thin cotton, not years of fortified hurt.
“Sometimes it’s a bit harder than flipping a switch, though, isn’t it?
” The softness he infuses in that statement stitches a piece of me back into place.
Like he sees the handle with care warnings written all over me.
“Even more so when the people who should’ve held you together are the ones who tore you apart. ”
He leans in, gently prying my fingers away from the cup and lacing them with his.
“I’m not those boys, Zoey. I can handle you. There’s not a single side of you that scares me, that’s too much or not enough.”
I bite my cheek to stave off the tears welling up in my throat.
“Not even when I’m wearing my high heels and expensive clothes and threatening to slash your tires if you almost run me over again?”
I deflect. It’s safer than letting my foolish heart get carried away.
“Not even then, beautiful.” He cracks a devastating smile.
Good god, will I ever catch a break? If he’s not finding the exact right words to mend my heart, he’s flashing me those ridiculously cute dimples that melt it. I can’t win.
He brushes his thumb against my skin absentmindedly as silence stretches.
“You say that,” I finally force out, “but I don’t think you’d have given me a second thought if you’d met me in Vancouver.” I lower my gaze. “I’m… different here. You wouldn’t have liked that other version of me.”
He tsks, shaking his head. “Why do you keep referring to yourself as if you’re multiple people?
You think I don’t see you? All the parts that make you whole?
” He bends, searching for my eyes. “You refuse to let people past that hard, in-control exterior. But it’s never worked with me.
I see you for everything you are. Tough and soft.
Funny and serious. Smart and goofy.” He swipes at his bottom lip with his tongue and adds, “Full of confidence but just as scared.”
My breath catches. “Scared of what?”
“Of being vulnerable with someone else.”
“Aren’t you?” I murmur, my palms suddenly sweaty.
Something flashes on his face, and for a second, I think he’s going to change the subject. I wouldn’t be offended. I’m not entitled to his answers. He’s been very clear about that. Though some questions have been burning a hole in my tongue.
He leans into the chair, knuckles brushing his chin as he stares out the window. “I’m not scared of being vulnerable,” he says, his chest rising and falling. “But I’m scared of trusting someone with my heart again. See?” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “We all have our demons.”
I push my luck. “Because of Andie?”
Matt runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he says in one short exhale. “Because of Andie.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I offer.
“No, I do. Revisiting that part of my life is not something I particularly enjoy, that’s all.”
“I get that.”
I’m here. You can tell me. I got you.
“I ran into Andie for the first time when she came to visit Pine Falls with a group of friends for a bachelorette weekend. I’d never met someone so vibrant. Just a ball of energy. She was only supposed to stay a week, but she fell in love with the town, and… well, with me.”
He glances at me, eyes searching. I keep my face neutral, nodding to encourage him to continue.
“Things moved really fast. She only left once to pick up stuff at her place and bring it back to mine, and within two months, we were officially living together. The first few months were great. She got along with my friends, and they loved her. She fit into the cogs of my life effortlessly.”
He swallows audibly and shifts in his seat.
“Looking back, I should have been more wary. I should have asked myself more questions. Relationships are never perfect. They aren’t meant to be.
But ours was, or so I thought. I didn’t stop to consider why we never fought, why our lives wove so easily together, when she was a total stranger only a week before we became inseparable.
I thought I had hit the jackpot. So much so that after six months, I asked her to marry me. ”
My heart sinks to my feet.
Marry him . He asked her to marry him.
It was serious, then. I knew it must have been, considering the way everybody and their mother wear pitying looks when they mention her. But I didn’t think it was that serious. I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you serious.
I haven’t known Matt for a long time, but still, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d make rash decisions. But then again, maybe he used to be. And then Andie happened.
“You’re very silent,” he says, watching me from beneath furrowed brows.
“I’m sorry. I’m processing all this information.”
“Don’t apologize.” Once again, he’s angling himself over the table, cradling my hands in his. I like this way better. “Sometimes, when I look back on it, I’m surprised too. I never thought I’d be that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The guy who’d be reckless enough to ask a girl he’s known for two minutes to marry him.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” I say, squeezing his fingers. “You went with your gut, and it felt right back then. Time holds no meaning when you love someone. It can be years or days; it doesn’t matter.”
I bite back a huff. Look at me rambling on love like I’ve got a PhD in romance. Like I’ve ever felt an ounce of what I’m describing.
His mouth quirks up slightly like he knows I’m full of shit.
That’s the miserable truth when it comes to my own life. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never witnessed it.