Matt’s face undergoes an amazing transformation. The terrible lines of rage disappear. The darkness of his eyes lightens to amber, and his hand falls from my elbow. In an instant, he’s no longer furious but appears stricken by my words.
His eyes lower from my face, and he reaches up to brush his fingers through his hair in bewilderment, turning slightly away from me. Shoulders sagging, he walks back around his desk and sits heavily in the chair. He stares at his computer, but I can tell he sees nothing. He’s only staring at it to avoid looking at me.
“Get out,” he says quietly. “I want another draft of those Answers by the end of the day.”
It’s eerie… the level of uncertainty in his voice right now. Gone is the furious animosity, and all that’s left behind is confusion.
And pain.
My heart tumbles over itself in empathy, and I have a brief moment of hope that maybe… just maybe, that Matt will be receptive to discussing our relationship. I take a step toward his desk. His gaze rises up, and he stares at me blankly.
“Matt… I’m sorry you’re hurting. I am, too. Maybe if we talked this out, we could figure—”
He cuts me off, his face starting to harden again. “There’s nothing to talk about. Now leave.”
I’m losing him, and it makes me desperate. “Please… I want to make this better—”
I’m cut off again by Matt’s mocking laughter. His eyes are once again dark, and my stomach flips over in wariness. “You want to make this better?” he sneers as he stands up from his desk, his hands going to his belt buckle. “The only way you can make this better, Miss Dawson, is if you get over here on your knees.”
Agony courses through my bones over the hurtfulness of those words. This is not the Matt Connover who held me while my mom died. I have no clue where he is, but he’s gone, and I can’t stop the tears that well up in my eyes.
We stare at each other for a moment. His eyes piercing… mine wet.
I suck in a shaky breath, just so I can have the oxygen necessary to say quietly, “You’re despicable.”
Turning around, I start walking toward the door, glad he has only my back so he can’t see the tears that now slide down my cheeks.
“Mac,” he says in a desperate sort of way, but I don’t stop.
When I open the door, he tries again… this time a little more desperate. “Mac.”
I ignore him, stepping out of his office and closing the door behind me. I jump slightly when something crashes from inside his office, and I hear him yell, “FUCK!”
I’m on autopilot. I walk to my office and log off my computer. Packing a few files in my briefcase, as well as shoving Matt’s slaughter of my document in there, I turn my office light out and close the door.
Walking past Bea’s desk on the way through the lobby, I say, “Send all my calls to voice mail. I’m taking two sick days. I’ll be back in on Monday.”
I get just a flash of a surprised look from Bea as I walk by her, and she hesitantly asks, “Are you all right?”
“I will be by Monday,” I tell her confidently.
And I am confident. I’m purging Matt Connover from my mind.
Correction… I’m replacing Matt Connover.
It’s time for another trip to One Night Only.
It’s Friday night. Macy and I have decided to have a “junk” night. That’s where we buy or prepare our favorite “junk” food, and we slug out on the couch to watch movies. It was actually Macy’s idea, which surprises me because this is really not how my girl likes to spend her weekend nights. She’d much rather be knocking boots with some hot stud.
But this is perfect for me. I have my bestie hanging out with me, food to help console me, and my yoga pants on so when I gorge on my “junk” food, I can still feel comfy.