“I get that,” I said, “but why are you hosting people? Why not just do one of those Zoom watch parties or, I don’t know, nothing at all?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I felt like I had to,” he said. “I was the one who’d bungled things by shooting my mouth off at Comic Con, so when the publicity folks came to me and said, ‘This will help fix the problem,’ I didn’t feel like I was in a position to say no.”
“Matt.”
“I’m not good at this.” He seemed to focus away from me, keeping his gaze on my parents’ inflatable Elvis. “I’m not good at maintaining relationships for long periods of time. I don’t have any contact with my family, I’ve screwed things up with my fans and the people who work on the TV show.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I didn’t know how to atone for what I did on my own”—he chuckled, waving his hand—“and now I’m throwing a party.”
He reached for me, and I laced my fingers in his.
“When my characters screw up, I’m able to write their way out of the situation.” He frowned. “Why can’t I do that for myself?”
“Because real life isn’t as clean and logical as a story.” I pulled him closer to me and wrapped my arms around him, taking a quick moment to breathe in his woodsy scent.
He squeezed me tight and kissed the top of my head. “I wish it would be.”
I placed my hands on his shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “The way I see it is, we’re only responsible for what we do and how we react.” I swallowed. “For two decades, I stayed with someone I didn’t love because I felt stuck. You would’ve written me out of that marriage in a heartbeat.”
His thumb touched my lower lip, and my stomach fluttered. “Yeah, I would have.”
I stared into his big blue eyes. Again I yearned to say, Screw, Indianapolis. Stay with me here. “You put too much weight and pressure on these social situations. Like tonight,” I said, “was that so bad?”
“No.” He grinned down at me. “Because you were there.”
The weight of this conversation was going to crush me. I kept having to remind myself that I was a stopgap for him, a vacation fling. He was going back home soon, and he just reiterated for me that he wasn’t good at maintaining relationships. Even if I wanted to keep this going long-term, I’d have to set expectations for myself that Matt might let me down or vice versa. I was only responsible for my part in this, and I was not going to let any big feelings stand in the way of cold, hard reason.
But all of that was a problem for another day. Tonight and for the next week or so, Matt and I would get to remain in our little bubble. “Well, my friend.” I grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles dramatically. “I have good news for you, because I’m going to be at your premiere party.” I winked at him. “I’m making the food, remember?”
He grinned. “How could I forget?”
“So, if things get hairy for you while rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, you can come hang out in the kitchen with little old me.”
“Promise?” His sapphire eyes widened, and I had to fight not to get lost in them.
“I will set aside a plate of cookies just for you.”
He squeezed my hand. “Come back to the house with me tonight. Stay with me. I want to wake up with you in my arms.”
I glanced back at my parents’ house. This would be a new step. Matt and I hadn’t done that before. I’d always snuck home before the crack of dawn.
“Tomorrow’s a total freebie,” he said. “I sent the emails and turned in the manuscript. I have all day tomorrow to mess around before the guests start arriving on the twenty-second.”
“You might,” I said, “but I don’t. I have to make sure the rooms are ready, and I have to work on the food for the party.”
“I’ll help you,” he said, smiling. “I have all the time in the world.”
“Like you helped with the cookies?” I asked.
“Okay, maybe I’ll leave the cookies to you, but I can fold napkins or clean toilets.” He raised his eyebrows. “Remember, I was a maintenance person.”
“That’s true,” I said, “you were. I think I’ll be able to find plenty for you to do tomorrow.” Hand-in-hand, the two of us walked back to his rental house together, almost like we were returning home to our own, permanent place.
I banished that thought from my head. No, we were two casual adults enjoying what time we had together before going back to our real lives. That was it, and it was enough. At least that’s what I was telling myself.
…
Matt
December 21st, one day past deadline
I pulled Dani closer and nestled my face in her hair. This morning marked the first time we were able to wake up together. Last night, we watched a few episodes of The Simpsons, made tired, groggy, happy love, and fell asleep together. It was the most normal and complete I’d felt in a long time.
I’d turned in my manuscript. That was out of my hands, and now I could just be normal Matt. Dani and I could finish out the month together—I could spend Christmas Eve with her family, we could ring in the New Year together, and then we’d say good-bye.
Damn it, it hurt to think about that.
But Indianapolis was my home. That house was where I’d grown up, and where all my happy memories were stored. Jane and I had come here for the holidays and only for the holidays. She’d made me promise her, and I’d agreed. Coming to Wackernagel was supposed to provide a change of scenery for a short time, full stop.
Dani had given me no indication that she wanted me to stick around, and I understood why. She just got out of a long marriage and was not looking for anything serious. I wouldn’t force that upon her. Better to cut our losses before things inevitably went south.
Plus, I’d never been able to keep a relationship going for more than a few months. Why would Dani and I be any different? If I stuck around, she’d no doubt end up hating me. I couldn’t bear that.
I kissed the back of her head, and she stirred, flipping around to face me. She kissed me, a dry, tight-lipped kiss. “I have morning breath.”
“I don’t care,” I said, kissing her again and wrapping my arms tighter around her. “I want to stay here in bed with you all day.”
She jokingly pushed me away. “Yeah, well, like I told you last night, I don’t have time to mess around. My boss expects to eat, and he’s throwing this big party in two days—”
“Seriously. Screw that guy.”