“Okay…” I was being perp-walked out of here. “You’re sticking around?” At least someone should be here for him.
“I have to go to a Christmas party.” When she saw the concerned look on my face, she said, “He’ll be okay. He’s got this.”
Jane folded her arms and watched as I gathered up my things and shrugged into my coat. I felt like I was a bystander character in a book or movie, one of those gothic dramas or mysteries where a visitor knew something fishy was going on in the house, but they couldn’t get close enough to confirm their suspicions.
I was being silly, reading too much into it. Matt was working, and Jane was only making sure he had his space. That was her job, as much as making dinner and cleaning the bathrooms were mine.
I grinned brightly as Jane pulled the door open for me. “See you tomorrow,” I said.
She gave me a tight-lipped smile back. “See you tomorrow.”
I left the house and started heading up the walk, glancing back a few times to see if Jane was watching. I couldn’t be sure, but I felt eyes on me. Maybe it was just the eeriness of the dark evening, the way the moonlight made shadows through the tree branches.
The pit in my gut would not subside. I remembered back when my ex and I had first separated. I told everyone I was fine, that I wanted my space. And, honestly, it was what I thought I’d wanted at the time. But then I’d find myself alone in the house while Kelsie was out with her friends, living her life, and I’d sink into a profound loneliness I’d never experienced before.
Back then, I hadn’t known how to ask for it, but I’d longed for someone to talk to, someone who’d go out of their way to make sure I was okay, but I’d been so focused on appearing “fine” that I’d fooled everyone in my life into thinking that was the case.
Maybe that was where Matt was right now, emotionally, and I knew him well enough to know he’d never even consider asking for help from anyone.
When I reached the edge of my parents’ driveway, I paused for a moment, weighing my options. I could do what Jane asked and leave Matt alone, or I could do what I wished someone would’ve done for me and show him I cared.
I opened up my phone and sent him a text. “Hey, Matt. Just making sure you’re okay. Let me know if you need anything, like company.”
There. That’d do it. Now no one could say I didn’t at least try.
I let myself into my parents’ house, which was empty. Everyone had gone out somewhere. I patted Ralph, made myself a snack, and sat down in the living room to try to read a few pages of Matt’s book. The words blurred, and I couldn’t focus.
I checked my phone. No new messages.
Maybe he’d left his phone in another room or he’d turned it off to shut out distractions like my text message.
I attempted to read again.
Jane would be heading out soon for her holiday party. That would leave Matt all alone in the house with no one to fetch him food or tea. Someone should be there, simply to be on call if he had any requests. He needed to focus on his writing, and he shouldn’t have to waste time boiling water. Besides, I had plenty of work to do over there. I could get a head start on the food prep I’d planned for tomorrow. I wouldn’t be going over there just for him.
That settled it. I snapped the book shut, set it on the coffee table, and headed confidently back to Matt’s house. This was the right thing to do. He needed to know he wasn’t alone.
By the time I returned, Jane was already gone, so I let myself in and paused in the foyer, listening. Nothing. No sound at all. So I headed upstairs and knocked on Matt’s office door.
He didn’t answer. I knocked again. “Matt, it’s Dani. I’m just making sure you’re okay and letting you know I’m here if you need anything.”
For a few moments, he didn’t respond. Then the door opened. He looked tired, haggard, wearing the same T-shirt he wore under his sweater yesterday and a pair of wrinkled jeans. His hair was a mess, and I knew he’d been running his hands through it. I had to hold myself back from pulling him into a hug and telling him it’d be okay. “Dani, I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” I said. “Jane told me you had a tough conversation with the show people…”
He looked past me, at some spot over my shoulder. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“Can I get you anything—?”
“No.” His eyes snapped to me. “No,” he said again, softer this time. “Seriously, I just need to write.”
“Okay…” I kept flashing back to the two of us this morning, giddy and anticipating a fun, stress-free day, a stress-free next few weeks together. For Matt, things had turned upside down out of nowhere. Maybe he thought he didn’t need me right now, but I wouldn’t abandon him. “I only wanted to tell you that I’ll be here all evening, getting ready for the party, if you need me to make you tea or if you want to talk—”
“No, Dani. Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I noticed the full tray of food on the floor behind him. “Eat something, Matt,” I said. “Please. You have to take care of yourself.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he said brusquely, still not looking at me. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “You’re distracting me,” he said. “You’re a distraction.”
“Wow. I’m sorry,” I said, fighting tears with my eyelids. I smiled brightly, trying to convince myself that this wasn’t about me. He was under a lot of pressure, and he simply needed to be alone right now. “I was only trying to help.”
“I know.” Running his fingers through his hair, he nodded back toward his office. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, but I found out this morning that I have to completely redo the manuscript by January fourth.”
“Oh, no.” I reached for him, to pull him into a hug, but he stepped backward, away from me. I attempted to play it off like nothing had happened. “That will be tough, Matt, but I know you can do it. I believe in you.”
“Thank you,” he said, blinking.
“I’ll be like a mouse, leaving your food outside your door. Eat it, don’t eat it, my conscience won’t allow me to let you starve. You won’t even know I exist.”
“But I will, though.” His blue eyes met mine. “I’ll know you’re doing all this for my benefit, and that will stress me out.” He pointed to the room behind him. “I have to lock myself in there and work. I can’t worry about how I’m neglecting you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I don’t expect anything. You know that. I mean,” I said, grinning, trying to lighten the mood, “except for you to show up at your own party and eat my food, but that’s it.”