I frowned. “Matthew,” I said. “Connor. Hi, there.”
“Uncle!” Connor grinned up at me. I couldn’t help smiling at him. He was, in some ways, so like Matthew at his age that it melted my heart.
“Hi,” I said again. “Want to come in?”
“It’s cold outside,” Connor informed me firmly. “Why’re you dressed in so little clothes, uncle?”
I grinned and stroked his soft-haired head. Matthew picked him up and cuddled him close as he sat him down on the sofa.
“Uncle’s been working out,” he informed Connor solemnly. “Want to watch TV?” He pointed toward my dining room.
“Uncle has a bigger screen than we do, Daddy,” Connor informed my brother. “I like watching at his house. And he has popcorn.” He grinned at me.
“He doesn’t have any right now, but he can always make you some popcorn,” Matthew said, looking at Carter with a nod. I was very close to my nephew, and his ingenuous sweetness was just what I needed to distract me from my own pain now. I looked at Matthew, who grinned.
“Looks like you have a job, brother,” he said.
Matthew followed me into the kitchen.
When we made the popcorn, Connor watched TV in the living room, and my brother kept up an easy, one-sided banter about the weather and the weekend and how we were doing so well at work. I watched him carefully, not fooled by his show of nonchalance for an instant. I knew Matthew, and he was waiting for the right moment to address something big. He was mad at me, I thought, as I carried a bowl overflowing with hot buttered popcorn to my nephew.
“What?” I said tiredly. I sat down at the kitchen table. Matthew was already sitting there, a mug of tea in front of him. I noticed he’d made me some too. I glanced at the clock. It was four p.m. I sat down and caught his eye.
Matthew just looked at me. Suddenly, he sat up straight and looked me in the eye. “Somebody is messing up her life,” he said. “But it’s not that guy. She wasn’t upset about that. Tanya was over, she was fine. Amelia was upset about something else. She thought it was you calling, and she was hurt when it wasn’t you who turned up.” He stared at me.
“No,” I stammered. “That’s not it. Why would it be? She doesn’t even like me!” I felt my voice waver. Matthew was looking at me with that signature expression he saved for customers who did not tell the truth about what happened to their motorcycles.
“You’re hurting her,” Matthew said gravely. “I thought you might want to know that.”
“I know that,” I stammered. “I am fully aware that what I did was wrong.” I felt shame. I knew that—I really did. I felt weak and stupid.
“What you did?” Matthew asked. I cleared my throat.
I told him.
As I told him the series of events from last night, including our lovemaking, I sniffed. I felt bad. I was close to tears, I was so ashamed, but I was reluctant to let my brother see my moment of weakness. He had lost enough respect for me as it was. I was surer than ever before that Amelia was better off without me.
“…and I ran off this morning without a word,” I finished. “What else could I do? Amelia deserves better than me.”
Matthew was silent. He sat there for so long that I thought he despised me as much as I despised myself. Then he spoke.
“Probably,” he said. “I think that, too. But the fact is, she cares about you. And you’ve just made a horrible mess. You should do something about it, and soon.”
“I know,” I murmured. I wanted to do something about it. Really, I did. But what could I do? Anything I did, as far as I could tell, would only serve to create more trouble. Amelia was way out of my reach.
She was young and beautiful with the world at her feet. I didn’t deserve her, and I was worried I’d ruin her life by inserting myself into her world.
“You can fix it, Carter, if you want to,” Matthew said. “But I think you are ultimately afraid of being hurt. Get over it and yourself. This is your chance for love.” He stood up and I watched him walk across the kitchen, the sunlight from the kitchen window shining on his back.
“I can try,” I murmured somewhat pathetically.
“I know you can,” Matthew said, fixing me with a firm stare from the doorway. “You could always fix everything, ever since we were small children.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But this is harder.”
My world had been simple in those days, and there was nothing in it I couldn’t fix. Now, with feelings and people and emotions and danger involved, I was less confident. I was less sure of myself. I seemed destined to keep on breaking things.
“I should go,” Matthew said. “Connor needs to get home early so he can have supper.”
“I don’t want supper,” a sleepy voice said from the hallway. “I want to stay here and eat popcorn. Where’s uncle Carter gone?”
“I’m here,” I said gently, bending down and smiling into my nephew’s round eyes. “I was just chatting with your dad in the kitchen.”
“Daddy,” Connor said crossly, “stop chatting to Uncle Carter. I want him to make more popcorn for me.”
I laughed, and Matthew grinned. He caught my gaze as our animosity evaporated a little in the sound of the child’s laughing.
“Okay, okay!” I protested. “I’ll make some more for you. You can take it with you,” I added, looking up at Matthew, “as long as you don’t eat it before you’ve finished your dinner. That good?”
“Hurray!” Connor whooped.
“Sorry,” I said to Matthew, as he followed me back into the kitchen again. “I don’t want to take up your time if you have to go somewhere.”
“Just make enough for two,” Matthew said, raising a brow. “I’m hungry too.”
We looked at each other, and he grinned. Suddenly, as if the anger between us had dissolved, we were laughing again. He was my brother, and I loved him, and he loved me. And he was right about Amelia.
They walked out the door. “See you,” Matthew called from the step, his son beside him, each of them looking up at me. Connor was happily holding a big bag of popcorn. I’d added lots of salt, the way Matthew liked it. “And don’t forget about Monday.”
“I won’t,” Matthew called back. I promised him I would do something to work it out. It was going to be hard, but his faith in me was enough to make me think that maybe I could do it. It was certainly something that I should have the courage to attempt.
I sat down at the table with my head in my hands. His words went around and around in my brain, and I couldn’t quite believe in them. She cares about you, he’d said. Don’t hurt her.
I shut my eyes, resting my head in my hands. I was lost. I cared about her, too. More than I wanted to admit. More than I had ever cared for anyone, I realized with shocking clarity. It seemed strange to say it, but I hadn’t felt a connection with anyone who was this great. We might not have known each other for very long, but those moments had touched me and shown me just how well we were connected.
And I had hurt her.
I had absolutely no idea how to fix it. And the thought that I wasn’t good enough for her returned, in spite of Matthew’s confidence in me. I was sure that, in her heart, she knew that too.