Chapter 19 #3
“My parents got married on a whim,” I explain. “My mom is from Quebec, but she met my dad while on a business trip to Vancouver. They had the most cliché meet-cute ever. Both were attending conferences in the same hotel on the same day. Him on hotel development, her on cancer patients.”
Matt raises a curious brow, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“She’s an oncology nurse. My father went into the wrong room, where my mother was giving a presentation on the emotional toll of chemo treatment on patients.
He stayed until the end so he could buy her a drink after.
The rest is history. Not even a year later, my mom was pregnant with me.
She uprooted her whole life and moved to BC.
They got married, they had me, and voilà. ”
“That’s a sweet story. But I remember you saying they’re not together anymore, right?”
I shake my head, brushing my thumb over his.
“They’re not. But I don’t think it has anything to do with how quickly they got married or because they stopped loving each other.
They were happy, for the most part, but marriage takes time and effort, and I think my dad loved his legacy more than he ever loved my mom.
And at some point, he wasn’t enough for her anymore. ”
“Is that why you’re alone? You think you’re bound to repeat your father’s mistakes?”
Here he goes again, with questions that hit the bull’s-eye. “Not by choice, but in the end, it’s better this way. I’m not imposing this on anybody.”
Matt gives me a lazy smile. “It’s a job, Zoey. You’re not part of a cult and demanding others join in.”
“Kind of feels like one sometimes,” I mutter.
“You’re so dramatic.” He chuckles, but the sound dies quickly, his smile fading as his expression darkens. “If I’m honest, I don’t think what Andie and I had was remotely close to your parents’ relationship.”
“Why did you do it, then? Propose?” I gently rake my nails over the top of his hand.
His eyes flutter closed, and he inhales deeply.
“I don’t know. I guess because I believed her.
It felt nice to…” He pauses, attention darting away for a second, like he’s tasting the word on his tongue.
“Lean on someone. Allow her to share the weight I’ve been carrying by myself, the worries about my business, my parents, my sister.
Andie was there. She listened to me. She was just as pissed when my mom took Daph to the movies, knowing she hates loud noises.
” His shoulders dip as he gives a slow, weary shake.
“Rubbed my back after I’d worked late another night, searching for ways to keep my business open after I closed my first year in significant debt.
I felt lighter than I had in years. And I think…
” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud.
I think, now that I’ve made it to the other side, I might have liked the feeling more than anything. ”
Or anyone .
I hear the unspoken parts in the spaces between his words. Fragments of him are still scarred. Still healing. And if I wasn’t such a chickenshit myself, I would tell him that I wouldn’t mind being the one to mend his wounded pieces.
“Maybe she wasn’t ready for the commitment,” he adds. “But deep down, I don’t think she truly loved it here. She liked the idea of living in a slow-moving town, but after a while, it wasn’t what she imagined it’d be.”
He shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter that she quietly unraveled his heart when her rosy expectations didn’t meet reality.
I can’t help but loathe her for it. You don’t get carried away like that with so much on the line. You think it through.
“And instead of being honest with herself and with me,” he continues, “she looked for things that’d hurt me. That’d put distance between us.”
“Like Daphne.”
He nods, his eyes flicking down to where my fingers are still grazing his hand.
“Sometimes,” he starts, a carefulness in his voice, “I wonder what it’d be like to try again…
to get back out there.” He peers at me for the briefest moment before his gaze flits away.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. ”
My heart picks up its pace, matching the tempo of the rain spattering on the café windows. “You have?”
He locks his eyes on mine, raw intensity smoldering in them and melting me from the inside. “More than I could ever admit. It petrifies me. Some days I want to say fuck it. Most days, I remember how low I was after the breakup, and it’s enough to pin me in place.”
He reaches up and gently tucks a lock of damp hair behind my ear. It’s such a simple touch, and yet my heart takes off in a way I’m not prepared for. “You’re not the only one who’s afraid, Zoey,” he says, his voice steady.
I swallow, searching his face for any sign of doubt. All I find is the same brutal sincerity he’s been offering me since the day we met. I want to believe him. I need to believe him.
Am I ready for this? To stand in front of my fears, to let go of the walls I’ve spent years building?
“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know where to begin, how this,” I wave a hand between us desperately, “could ever work.”
He tightens his hold on my fingers, the warmth of his touch anchoring me. “We don’t have to have it all figured out now. We still have time, right?”
The reminder of our looming deadline sends my stomach plummeting to the floor.
Do we? The vote is next week, and then what?
If the locals approve my proposal, I’ll be around for a while, in and out to oversee the progress.
But after that? I’ll be appointed CEO, and the sliver of free time I have now will be whittled down to nothing.
If I don’t get the hotel? Well, why would I stay?
How would any of that be sustainable for either of us? To entertain the possibility of a relationship would only feed our delusions of a positive outcome.
And yet I can’t put an end to that possibility. I can’t ignore the thread he’s been weaving around my heart since I met him. Can’t bring myself to sever it.
I peer outside, at the rain that’s finally slowing, my mind racing in a hundred directions. But when I look back at him, there’s nothing but raw hope in his eyes. And I’m too weak to fight that.
“One day at a time?”
Matt grins, wide and bright, dimples and all. “One day at a time.”