15. Matt #2
Goosebumps break all over my skin, and when she finally steps past the threshold, her emerald eyes meeting mine, I feel the heat crawl up my neck.
Everything I’ve been telling myself since Friday night proves to be useless. I have to physically stop myself from reaching for her by shoving my hands into my pockets.
I want her. Still. More than before. Too much.
“Emma. Hi,” I manage, taking a step closer. She’s carrying a duffle bag over her shoulder, a small notepad sticking out of the side pocket.
Black leggings that flare at the ankles hug her hips in a way that’s dangerous, the white spaghetti strap top showing a hint of bikini tan lines. I shouldn’t, but I look anyway. From the top of her head to her Vans.
“Matthew.”
Her voice is monotone. She doesn’t even call me out for staring.
“Please, sit,” I tell her, or I’m going to start imagining where those tan lines lead. “Before I say anything else, I want to make sure you know I had absolutely nothing to do with this. I didn’t even know you were coming.”
Emma must sense something, because the corner of her mouth curves into a faint smile.
“I know. Jennifer told me you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Well… no. Not exactly.” I rub the back of my neck. “I thought you didn’t want to see me. That you were probably writing, and the last thing you wanted was to spend your weekend with me.”
If it were up to me, I’d have everything to do with her.
“Jennifer always gets her way. But if anyone has the guts to say no to people it’s you,” I confess. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
“I did tell her no. Our personal problems are private, so I told her I was writing.” Emma shakes her head. “She offered to convince my boss to give me some leeway. Didn’t even have her call, to be honest. Martha loves these kinds of things.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
She’s basically here against her will. Stuck next to me and expected to smile like she means it.
“This trip much be such a headache for you,” I groan. “You can still leave. I’ll cover for you. A stomach bug, family emergency. Whatever you need.”
Emma giggles, my chest loosens, and my heart starts warming up after two days of being frozen over. I’ve missed her. Didn’t know it was this much until she walked in.
“You’re my headache, Matthew,” she teases. “It’s fine. I’ll admit, when Jennifer sent me the itinerary, I thought you’d be in first class, and I’d be stuck middle seat at the back.”
She glances around.
“Didn’t expect for a car to pick me up and drop me off here.”
“It’s hard to stick to a normal departure schedule most of the time,” I rationalize. “For the record, there’s no way I’d let you fly on your own.”
“Didn’t think you cared.”
Only I can manage to have the opposite effect of what I’ve been trying to do this whole time. But staying away doesn’t mean I can’t be honest now.
“I always care. More than you think,” I say, the words coming out quieter than I intend. It’s like when I try being vulnerable with her, she absorbs all the confidence out of me until I’m a pile of mush. I hate how easy it is for her to do that.
She doesn’t make a sound. I’m not even sure she’s processing what I’m saying.
“Listen, I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. Ask me to move and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the trip. But… if you’d like to, I have some things to say.”
Her gaze focuses on me, as she considers for a second, then nods.
“Alright,” she says. “I’ll bite.”
“I hope not,” I joke, trying to ease the growing tension.
“I messed up. I’m sorry. Like, really sorry.
It’s inexcusable. I was out of line, out of control.
I’m embarrassed. And I know this probably won’t make you feel any better, but I did apologize to Stella.
She’s a friend. I’ve known her for years, and I shouldn’t have dragged her into my mess. ”
Her eyebrows lift, like she’s not entirely believing me. With my reputation, I don’t blame her.
“Why did you?”
“I told you. I was jealous.” I sigh and look down, buying myself a second. “You’re incredible, Mills. You’re smart. Ridiculously beautiful. And somehow still the kindest soul I’ve ever met.”
Her cheeks start turning a bright pink.
“It’s hard to stay away. These past couple of weeks, I thought I was finally breaking through that wall that’s always been between us, and seeing you pull away when I was so close…” I shake my head. “I couldn’t handle it.”
“That’s a lot to… unpack,” she says, our gazes locked. “You could’ve asked me out.”
“Yeah, I could’ve.” I huff a quiet laugh. “I was scared. No excuses today.”
“Scared of what?”
“I didn’t think you were being serious,” I admit. “My past hasn’t really made me the most comfortable showing my true self to others.”
“I think,” she says slowly, “nerdy Matt is better than action star Matt.”
“Thanks. Good to know I’ve got one fan,” I answer lightly. “Either way, I’ve realized you deserve so much better. Someone who’ll go surfing with you. Someone who’ll follow you in every adventure.”
Emma hums. “Maybe. But then again, that’s not really for you to decide.”
“No. It’s not.”
She turns to stare out the window, lost in thought. I want to ask what she’s thinking, but it’s not my place.
The plane door clicks shut. It’s not until we’re told to fasten our seatbelts and start taxiing that she meets my eyes again.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” she says. “I wish you would’ve said all of this the other day.”
I nod.
Might’ve changed everything.
By the time we’re wheels down in New York, it’s past midnight.
Emma stayed up until Lauren served us a surprisingly delicious dinner for reheated food. Resting seemed like the smartest option. Once Emma was out, I tried. No matter how many times I counted to a hundred, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed.
This primal need to protect her overrides the exhaustion from the day. So, I… watch her. Not intensely, but enough to learn she’s a heavy sleeper. No amount of turbulence wakes her up.
At one point, I lean over to fasten her seatbelt back up. My fingers brush against her side, brief, accidental. I pull back like I’ve burned myself.
It isn’t until Lauren opens the door back up that I nudge her gently. I would’ve carried her out of the plane myself, but I don’t think she’d appreciated the closeness as much as I would. Instead, I grab her duffle bag and let her lead the way.
The car drops us off at the entrance of The Ritz-Carlton Central Park.
It’s too dark to admire the city properly, but it still roars with summer tourists.
Even now, still clings to my skin as soon as I step out into the open.
There’s a stench of warm asphalt mixed with a faint undercurrent of garbage with each passing car.
Emma doesn’t seem to care. She’s looking around, taking it all in, and I wonder, for the first time, if she’s been here before. Feels like something I should know.
The shift indoors is immediate. The city follows us in for half a second before the air turns cool and filtered, exactly the same as every other time I’ve been here—leather, polished wood, citrus. Everything controlled.
You’d think I’d be used to it, but with every trip, the difference hits harder.
Still, the Ritz has always been my safe place in the Big Apple. Quiet entrance. A doorman who doesn’t blink twice. Dim lights with marble underfoot, and never a single spectacle.
I walk ahead, listening for Emma’s steps behind me. The receptionist checks us in and hands me our room keys.
When I glance back, she’s standing in the middle of the lobby, her eyes lifted toward the high ceilings, unfiltered awe all over her face.
It catches me off guard more than any camera could.
And as she takes in the room, I watch her. How she makes this place feel brand new for me too.
“Hey, Miss New York,” I tell her. “Time for bed.”
She nods and follows me into the elevator. I try to keep my eyes on the numbers, but they drift back to her anyway.
“You’re suite 408,” I say, handing her a key card. “There’s no room service at this hour, but I can run out and get you whatever you want.”
“Thank you, Matt. I appreciate it, but I think I’m going to go right back to bed,” she says with a soft laugh, sneaking a glance upwards. She’s been strangely quiet.
The elevator dings. It opens on the fourth floor, but I’m not ready to let her go yet. I hold onto her bag for just a bit longer. She leans against the middle, one foot in, one out, like she’s still deciding her next move.
“Tomorrow the crew will arrive around midday, so you don’t have to wake up super early. They have wonderful breakfast, although I know nothing beats a McDonald’s Egg McMuffin. I can sort that out for you too.”
I’m rambling. Emma knows it. And yet she doesn’t leave.
She watches me, the tender smile on her face growing with every word that comes out of my mouth.
“Hotel breakfast will be okay,” she says.
Her hand comes up to my forehead, her thumb brushing across my skin.
“Stop stressing. You’ll get wrinkles.”
Another ding. The metal doors push her forward into me. I brace a hand against them, boxing her in without thinking.
She tilts her head up to meet my eyes.
“You’ll call me if you need anything?” I whisper.
Emma nods, tugging on her bag until it slides down my arm.
“Imagine how different things would be now if you’d been honest since the beginning.” She rises onto her tiptoes, one hand on my shoulder, her lips brushing the edge of my ear. My breath catches.
“Trust me, I know,” I mutter.
Emma kisses my cheek, lingering long enough to mess with me.
She pushes me back, and I clench my hands into fists to stop myself from grabbing her waist and pulling her back into the elevator.
“I accept your apology. Quit fussing,” she says, a subtle, but seductive sway in her step. “See you tomorrow, Matthew.”
I suppress a groan, along with the need to follow her into the room.
She forgives me, alright.
Doesn’t mean she’s letting me off easy.