Chapter 8
EIGHT
THE CAB TURNS onto a street that is already painfully familiar.
In the daylight, Matthew’s house is even larger than I remember.
A modern structure of sharp angles and expansive windows looming over the manicured lawn.
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the expanse of green, highlighting a faint dryness at the edges.
Despite Matthew’s ties to Bancroft, a surprising sense of refuge blooms inside me. A traitorous feeling.
Find the ring.
Leave before he gets home.
The car comes to a stop.
My heart sinks.
Matthew sits on the two wide stone steps, tracking the cab. His posture is tense, blocking my path up to the lawn.
“Thank you,” I force out to the driver. My fingers fumble with the bills.
I step out and grab my handbag. The car door slams, a sharp thud cutting through the quiet afternoon air.
Matthew stands. His expression is neutral, except for the tightness around his mouth and the shadow in his eyes.
“I would have gladly driven you here.” His tone is clipped. “But you stormed off.”
I kick off my stilettos, the release a welcome relief. “Thank you, but I have a car,” I reply, voice sharp. “It just happens to be stuck at the apartment with the rest of my belongings.”
His brows draw together. Emerald green eyes search mine.
No… not now.
I’m here to find the ring.
I need my life back.
The past few hours have unravelled me, a jarring descent from hope to despair that leaves my chest aching with every breath.
A tremor runs through me. “Matt…” His name dies on my lips.
“James is bad news, Amy.”
My cheeks burn. The memory of James’s tirade, of Matthew witnessing my humiliation, makes me want to disappear.
“Yes, I’m well aware.” I look away, scanning the expanse of lawn. “But right now,” I take a ragged breath, “he’s holding my entire life hostage. So I have no choice but to find that ring.”
And get back to that prison.
I sidestep him and ascend the steps, the cool stone soothing my bare feet.
“I know Harold refusing to renew your lease feels like another personal attack, especially after everything you’ve been through since last night,” he says, his tone gentler, following me onto the grass.
“Please,” I scoff, raking my fingers through the grass. “My whole life is under attack.”
Matthew winces. His reaction makes my chest ache.
Is this what it looks like when someone actually cares?
The rich smell of soil and crushed grass rises to meet me. Coolness seeps into the fabric covering my legs. My fingers sift through the grass, each blade a tiny whisper against my skin.
Where is it?
“I’m telling you, it’s not intentional,” he insists, lowering himself to the ground a few feet away, scanning the area closer to the tree.
“Not long ago, everything seemed to be falling into place.” I swallow hard, fighting back tears. “Life felt stable. Personally. Professionally. Like I’d finally found a home here.”
And now it’s all slipping away.
“You’re not from Madison?” he asks.
“Only my second year,” I say, wistful. “Like with all the other states, the plan was just to be passing through. I never intended to stay this long.”
“Other states? So you’ve been driving from state to state?”
“Something like that,” I admit, suddenly self-conscious. “Never found a reason to stay. Until Madison.”
He tilts his head, thoughtful. “And what’s the reason?”
I hesitate. Thoughts reel. How can I explain the sense of belonging I found at the café, the connection I felt with Mary and Helen, the love, the illusion of love, I had for James?
“The people,” I finally reply. “The people and the place.”
“The people and the place,” Matthew repeats softly.
“That was my reason then anyway,” I say, shrinking a little under his gaze. “But now…”
“Now?” he repeats.
“Now,” I shrug, my lips pressed in a wry smile, “it’s anyone’s guess.”
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but all is not lost,” he reassures me, his gaze softening.
“How can you be so sure?” My question is a broken, uncertain whisper.
He goes to speak, then hesitates, as if weighing his words. “Because you’re the same woman who flung her ring into the darkness. That’s not a woman who just loses.”
I stare at him.
James saw a heartless bitch.
Matthew sees a fighter.
Speechless, my throat tightens as tears prick my eyes, blurring his earnest face.
Matthew clears his throat and turns his attention to a low-hanging branch, pushing it aside. “But you sure put some muscle into that throw,” he calls out.
“Believe me, if I had known it would unleash all this hell, I would have thrown it directly at him instead.” I rip a handful of grass from the ground and fling it into the air, watching the green blades flutter to the ground like angry confetti.
Matthew’s soft chuckle reaches me from deeper within the trees as I continue to say, “Ever since I stepped out of that club last night, it’s felt like I’ve stepped into a nightmare.”
The rustling stops. A sudden silence falls over the yard. His gaze is fixed on something in the grass. The corners of his mouth lift, and his eyes crinkle with a genuine smile. He reaches down, fingers brushing aside a blade of grass.
“Well,” he drawls, “nightmare over. I found it.”
My heart leaps. “You found it?” I scramble to my feet, rushing toward him.
He’s still kneeling, the ring held between his thumb and forefinger, a wide grin on his face. He looks up as I approach, and our eyes meet. For a fleeting moment, the world shifts. The late afternoon sun catches the diamond, sending a dazzling ray of light straight into my eyes.
It’s as if he’s offering it to me, not as a recovered possession, but as a promise. A promise of a different life, a life free from James and the suffocating weight of his control.
A life with… him?
The thought hits me hard. My heart forgets to beat.
His smile falters. His eyes widen, brow furrowing with unease. He looks away, a faint flush creeping up his neck.
“Here,” he says, almost shoving the ring towards me, his hand jerky. “Take it.”
I stare at him, confused by the shift.
What just happened?
One minute he’s beaming, the next he looks like he’s seen a ghost.
I hesitate, fingers hovering over the ring. A part of me wants to take it, to end this ordeal. But a rebellious spark ignites, a fierce desire to reject this symbol of a life built on lies. A desperate urge to defy the invisible strings pulling me back to James.
My internal battle rages. But I force myself to reach out. My fingers brush his as I close them around the cool metal. A tingle shoots up my arm.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice thin.
He avoids my gaze, jaw ticking. “I—I need to get back to work,” he mutters, pushing himself to his feet. “I didn’t get much done today. Lots to catch up on.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Right,” I whisper. “Of course.”
He doesn’t want me here. The thought is a cold, hard certainty.
Time to get back to the apartment, face James, and figure out what to do with my life.
I turn and head back towards the steps, each footfall heavy with defeat. I bend to slip my stilettos back on, the pointed toes pinching my swollen feet. My fingers fumble with the clasp of my handbag.
How did I get here?
I thought I was building a life, a future.
Now it’s all crumbling around me.
Just a day ago, I had a fiancé, a café…
Now, I’m just a woman scrambling for scraps of her own existence.
“Amy.”
I stiffen, my hand freezing mid-air. A pulse of apprehension fights with a flicker of curiosity. I clamp down on the unwelcome surge of hope. This is a man I barely know. A man who, despite his fleeting kindness, is contributing to my ruin. God knows I don’t need any more ruin right now.
Matthew stands a few feet away, his expression unreadable, jaw clenched. He takes a step closer, then hesitates.
“Be careful,” he says.
“Really?” I scoff.
After witnessing the wreckage of my life, all he can offer is a flimsy ‘be careful’?
He looks away, his gaze fixed on some distant point past where I stand. “Just… be careful,” he repeats, his warning strained.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, turns abruptly, and heads for the house. I watch him go, my heart sinking with every step he takes away from me.
Is this really it?
The warmth of the late afternoon sun feels like a distant memory as a chilly breeze whips through the trees.
The invisible strings tighten, pulling me back towards the life I desperately want to escape.
With a heavy sigh, I turn and walk towards the street, the weight of the ring heavy in my handbag.
I cross the street to hail a cab, my thoughts already focused on the confrontation that awaits me. The apartment, once a haven of love and security, now feels like a prison.