will be harder. But I think—think—he’ll let me help him.”
“And will you?”
Kendra gave a low, dry chuckle that came from somewhere Matty didn’t understand. “Yes. I will.”
Relief exploded out of her in a long exhale. “Thank you.”
“I might live to regret it.”
“No, no, you won’t. That is...” She laughed breathlessly. “You will live, you won’t regret it. What will you do for him?”
“First? Clean up the place and cook him some decent meals. Then we’ll try getting out to reconnect with some of the world he knows and introduce a bit of a world he doesn’t. See what works. It can be a slow process, but he’s not past help.”
“Oh, my gosh, Kendra.” Emotions jammed in Matty’s throat. Hearing that Jameson was not in true despair, that he wasn’t going to do something crazy like kill himself...ugh, she couldn’t even think about it. That wasn’t an option. “I have no idea how to thank you.”
“Really, don’t be too excited. I haven’t done anything yet but piss him off.”
“Ha!” Matty nodded sympathetically. “That’s not hard these days. Even I can do that.”
“We’ll see if I can get around the mood. I’ll give it a try. For old times’ sake.”
Matty caught the bite of irony. Hmm. There might be something there. “Kendra...did you and Jameson ever date?”
“Date? Jameson and me? God, no.”
“Huh. Okay, sorry.” Matty frowned. Pretty violent denial. The main reason Matty had such huge hopes Kendra could help Jameson was because she’d been sure Jameson had had feelings for her back in middle and high school. Maybe she’d been wrong.
“I’ll stay in touch and let you know how things are going.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. I—” Matty rolled her eyes. “I can’t stop thanking you.”
Kendra laughed. “Not a problem. Talk to you soon. Take care.”
Matty ended the call and stood, pressing the phone to her cheek, trying to contain her excitement. This could be good. This could be really, really good. She wanted Jameson free of pain, but also free of the family pressure to be something he might not be. She’d done her medical research, she knew ACL repair surgery could be unsuccessful, that there was a small chance Jameson could end up out of a career in the Air Force, the first Cartwright discharged since God knew when.
But maybe for him that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Maybe Kendra could help him rediscover living life his own way, as he’d been doing in Spain, working for a U.S. company, taking art and English courses at St. Louis University in Madrid and dating a dancer, before their father had reached his patience limit and dragged him back to the U.S. and the Cartwright Plan for Life.
A hand bumped her arm. She automatically moved away.
After that, Jameson had—
“Mattingly?”
Matty’s head jerked up. Only one person outside her family ever called her by her full name.
Her eyes met a pair of deep brown ones under a shock of wheat-colored hair that had gone slightly gray at the temples. Somehow she managed to stifle a gasp.
“Chris.” Calm. Stay very calm. As if she’d just bumped into him a week ago, not wrenched herself away from him back...how long had it been now? Years. She’d been a senior at Pomona College. He’d been an associate professor. Bad choices had happened. Drama. Pain. Deep love, and the best sex she’d ever had. Not that she was comparing. “What a surprise to see you.”
Surprise was putting it mildly. If she didn’t make sure to keep breathing, she’d pass out on the sidewalk.
Luckily, being raised by Jeremiah and Katherine Cartwright had taught her how to suppress every vestige of human emotion. Not a good technique on stage, but it could come in damn handy during real life.
“I saw the show.” He seemed calm, too. But then, he always did. Except when he was laughing or about to come. “You were great.”
Matty accepted his compliment with a polite nod. She had a few solo lines and part of one song—no bragging rights, but she took pride in having been chosen for that much, and in doing her role well. God knew she never took any theater job for granted. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“It was...” He was looking at her too intently, with eyes that were too warm. “It was a shock to see you, Matty, I admit.”
“A good one, I hope.” She was appalled at the automatic response. Do not flirt, Matty.
“Best one I had all week.” He smiled down at her and boom, too many memories came rushing back—the nights of passion, the blissful stolen hours together.
What the hell? Had she learned nothing?
“Chri-i-is?” A woman’s voice behind them, fake sweet. “There you are.”
And there she was, slim and elegant in some high-fashion drapey tunic thing she pulled off to perfection. Exactly the type Chris should be with.
“Zoe, this is a former student, Matty Cartwright. Matty, this is Zoe Savannah.”
Matty nearly snickered. Zoe Savannah? She was perfect. Right down to the leopard-print pants.
Smiling with as much warmth as she could muster, Matty chided herself. Zoe had every right to date Chris. She was closer to his age, for one thing—meow. And she was probably a lovely person. Or maybe she wasn’t and they deserved each other. Either worked. “Nice to meet you, Zoe.”
“Oh, me, too! I loved the show.” She whacked Chris playfully on the arm with her program and went into gales of laughter for no apparent reason. “And now I see why Chris was staring at you all night. He knows you! I was afraid it was love at first sight.”
Actually, it had been.
“No, no, nothing like that.” He glanced uncomfortably at Matty, who refused to look uncomfortable.
“You look great, Chris.” She wasn’t lying, unfortunately. He looked incredible, hair still thick, that new sexy touch of frost at the temple. He’d always reminded her of a cross between Ben Affleck and Russell Crowe: boy-next-door handsome but with powerful masculinity backing it up. “Still teaching at Pomona?”
“They haven’t fired me yet.”
They should have when she was there.
“Silly.” Zoe whacked him again. “You’re tenured.”
Matty smiled again, for real this time. She was happy for him. He’d wanted that very badly. “Congratulations. A great accomplishment.”
“Thank you, Matty.” He really needed to stop looking at her like that, half amused, half hungry. It was horrendously unsettling.
“Well!” She glanced pointedly at her watch and lifted a hand in cheery farewell. “I’m due to meet someone for a drink. Great to see you, Chris, and to meet you, Zoe.”
Not waiting for answers, she turned and headed for her red Kia Sportage parked in the lot behind the theater, her cheeks hot, mind whirling. So. Finally, it had happened. She’d seen Chris Hamilton.
For the first couple of years after graduation she’d imagined bumping into him, fantasized about it, actually. How after one glance into her eyes, he’d tell her he’d made a terrible mistake letting her go, that he couldn’t live without her, that he loved her desperately and always would and blah blah blah blah.
More years had gone by, six in total by now, and she’d stopped worrying about seeing him. Stopped worrying she’d fall apart, beg him to take her back, stopped worrying about the pain she was sure only he could bring.