Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
JORDAN
Twelve Weeks Until the Guardianship Hearing
I grab my clutch and close the bedroom door behind me, the kettle’s high-pitched whistle calling for my attention from the stove. My heels click loud against the hardwood as I make my way across Matt’s kitchen for a second cup of tea.
After last night, two feels like a necessity. Bare minimum. Might even need a third.
My nerves are shot, and the faint buzz in my head is making it hard to focus. I didn’t sleep. I tossed and turned all night, replaying different versions of today, what being engaged to Matt this afternoon might look like.
Grabbing the kettle I bought years ago for his place, I pour the steaming water into the infuser. The scent of mint fills the air, and I inhale deeply, savoring the familiar, calming smell.
I brought my own tea. Matt doesn’t drink it. But when I came out earlier to start the kettle, I was surprised to find five different canisters of loose-leaf tea lined up neatly on the counter.
I guess surprised isn’t exactly the right word. Matt’s always been like this, thoughtful, always one step ahead. He never misses a beat, even when he has funerals and custody battles weighing on his mind.
I glance at the oven clock.
11:03.
Where is he?
I haven’t seen Matt all morning. He texted earlier to say he was heading out and needed to clear his head. But that was hours ago, and we need to leave by eleven-thirty if we want to arrive early for the funeral.
Cece called Matt a few days ago to ask him to be a pallbearer. It’s the least she could do. At least she’s honoring something Nate would have wanted.
After five patient minutes, I pour my tea into a mug and slide onto one of the barstools. My gaze drifts to the front door every sixty seconds while I wait for him, like it might magically open if I stare hard enough.
After dinner last night, he was still quieter than usual.
But so was I.
That’s to be expected, I guess, when friends with a history the size of Russia decide to fake an engagement at a funeral for a cousin whose son they’re trying to get custody of.
Good God.
You really can’t make this shit up.
I roll my neck and press my fingers into the tight muscle behind my shoulder, trying to work out some of the tension. It barely helps. This always happens when I’m stressed and don’t sleep well. I’ll need to schedule a massage when I get back to New York.
Ten minutes later, the front door finally swings open and Matt strolls in like we don’t have anywhere to be.
God, he looks good.
I don’t know why that ever surprises me. He always does.
He’s somber.
I force a smile for both of us. “Hey,” I say, as upbeat as I can manage. I stand and meet him halfway, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Where have you been?”
“Just… out.”
I step back and place a hand on his chest. “You look good. You ready to go?”
“Yeah. In a minute.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Cartier jeweler’s box.
My heart skips a beat. A ring.
I know this isn’t real. I know he’s not in love with me or about to get down on one knee. And I definitely haven’t forgotten that we’re standing in his kitchen, getting ready to leave for a funeral.
Still, my stomach flutters, and my pulse picks up when one corner of his mouth lifts.
“Figured you’d need a ring,” he says lightly, “if we’re going to tell people we’re engaged.”
Words don’t come. I just stare at him.
What do you say to a man who casually spent a small fortune on a ring you’re only supposed to wear to sell a lie?
He opens the box, revealing an emerald-cut diamond set into a delicate band embedded with smaller diamonds.
It’s beautiful.
My breath stutters. “Oh my God, Matt...” I trail off, too stunned to form anything coherent.
He shrugs like this is nothing. “I met a jeweler this morning. A friend of Leo’s. It’s not much. But last minute and without you there, it’s the best I could do for now.”
Not much.
It’s Cartier.
He slips the ring from the box and turns his palm upward. I get the cue and place my hand in his, and he slides it onto my finger.
My God. It’s perfect.
The diamond is big, three carats, if I had to guess, but the band is dainty and elegant. The cut’s just right. Clean. Classic. It whispers money without screaming it.
“It’s perfect,” I say finally, when my brain catches up. “It’s exactly what I would’ve picked for myself.”
He smiles, soft and amusing. “I know.”
Of course he does.
He curls his hand around mine and lifts it, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. It’s gentle and sexy and my insides melt despite myself.
I remind myself this isn’t real and force myself to breathe.
“We have until the end of the week to exchange it,” he says. “Or return it.”
“Let me see,” I say, pulling my hand back to admire the perfectly sized rock on my ring finger. “It’s beautiful, Matt. Thank you. I’ll let you know before I leave tomorrow. Promise.”
He chuckles softly. “Christ. No pressure.”
“I know.” I look at him, then the ring again. Damn. It really is stunning. It’ll be hard to part with it, whether that’s tomorrow or five months from now.
I lift my gaze to his, take both of his hands, and give him a reassuring smile. “You ready?”
He huffs out a breath, squeezing my fingers gently. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The car ride to the church is mostly quiet. Comfortable, but heavy.
Matt handles stress better than I do. Better than most people.
It’s why he’s been able to accomplish everything he has.
It’s actually impressive, especially knowing all he’s dealt with growing up.
I’ve always admired him for that. Sure, he had his moments of recklessness and rebellion.
But somewhere along the way, he changed. He matured in ways money can’t buy.
Matt’s someone who has his shit together, though I was questioning his sanity for a moment there last night.
“What’s your favorite memory of Nate?” I ask, trying to lighten the air.
His shoulders rise with a deep inhale, then he blows it out quickly.
“That’s tough. There’s so many.” His lips curve just enough to make me smile.
“He came to visit me over Spring Break one year. It was after I’d moved out, and you were gone.
” He darts a quick glance at me. “Senior year,” he says somberly. As if I need the reminder.
“I was in a pretty dark place mentally, drinking a lot, getting high, and… sleeping around,” he says hesitantly, like it might hurt my feelings.
It doesn’t. I’ve always been aware of Matt’s extracurriculars, even back in college. It might have bothered me back then, but it hasn’t in a long time. Matt’s never cheated on me. He’d never cheat on anyone. Loyalty has always been one of his best qualities.
He continues. “But Nate—God, he was so good. He didn’t want anything to do with any of that. And after everything that happened with the DUI… I didn’t want him getting into trouble or lowering his standards just because he was with me.”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “Jensen came over the first day he was there, and I don’t think he even went home that week.
The three of us just video gamed, stayed up late shooting the shit, ate way too much pizza, and laughed our asses off until we cried.
” His whole face lights up. “It was one of the best weeks of my life. I was happy, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
And I did it completely sober. No booze. No drugs. No girls.”
He nods, his expression turning serious. Then he swallows, trying so damn hard to not get emotional. “That was Nate. Fun. Solid. Good. Just… good.”
He presses a knuckle into his mouth, eyes brimming with tears. But he doesn’t blink. Doesn’t let them fall.
I reach for his hand, pulling it down and wrapping it in mine. “He was good,” I whisper. “And so are you.”
He lets out a sound of disbelief before turning into the church. He pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine, releasing an audible breath. “My parents are going to be here,” he says, staring straight ahead.
“I figured they would be.”
“Both of them.” He turns to look at me. “My father too.”
My pulse beats harder with the mention of his father. Partly for me, but mostly for him.
I squeeze his hand, hoping to ground us both. It’s what I would do, engaged or not. “You okay?”
His eyes roam over my face, like he’s trying to read me. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“I’m fine.”
“Jordan—”
“I’m fine, Matt. Promise.”
“Alright then. Let’s get this day over with,” he mutters.
We walk toward the church hand in hand, the warmth of the sun beating down on my skin, one small mercy keeping me from bursting into tears. Two of Nate’s friends are standing off to the side, just outside the entrance, with who I assume is the funeral director.
Matt stops and turns to me. “I think this is where I need to be. Meet you inside?”
“Of course. I’ll save you a seat.”
He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Thanks, babe.”
Inside, an usher greets me and leads me toward the front pews, directing me to the reserved family section. I take a seat in the third row.
Organ music plays a familiar song, but I can’t quite place what it is.
I look around, noticing all the tiny details: the intricate carvings traced with gold, the stained glass casting soft streams of yellow across the room.
The elaborate paintings and how they somehow manage to reflect whatever you’re feeling back at you: hope, sadness, joy, guilt, peace.
I reach for that feeling of peace, buried somewhere beneath the grief and anxiety that I’m feeling now.
But it’s out of reach.
It’s just me and my overstimulated nervous system. Me and all my thoughts.
It’s been a long time since I’ve attended a Catholic Mass. Probably high school, with Matt and his mother. I haven’t even attended my own church in years. The last time I was even in one was a few months ago. The day I was supposed to get married.
The day I left Richard.