“Do you want something to drink?” I offered.
“Yogurt?” Matt said.
I blinked at him.
“Matt…” I patted his thigh. “We don’t have yogurt.”
“I bought some.” He moved briskly to the kitchen. “It’s low-fat,” he added. “Did you know that one cup of this is better than milk? More calcium. You need calcium, Chrissy. And protein, too. You like blueberries?”
“Uh, sure,” Chrissy said.
I twisted around on the couch and gaped at Matt.
Who was this guy, and who body-snatched my fianc
é
?
“Good. I threw a few on top. Berries are”—his brow knit as he returned with the yogurt—“a good source of fiber and vitamin C. All stuff you need right now.” He handed the bowl to Chrissy and returned to the couch. I grasped his hand.
“Can we talk for a moment?” I whispered.
“Sure.” He gazed at me evenly.
“In … private?”
My sister spooned yogurt into her mouth and watched us.
The Matt and Hannah Show
.
“Why? Aren’t we supposed to be getting things out in the open?” He gestured to our tiny living/family room.
“Fine,” I muttered. Apparently I should have prepped him for this conversation. “The thing is, Chrissy isn’t sure”—I smiled apologetically at her—“she wants to keep it yet.”
Matt scowled. “Could we avoid that phrase? ‘Keep it.’ Sounds so fucking inhumane. ‘It’? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“She’s only eight weeks. We don’t know yet.”
“Well, then.” He stood and paced beside Laurence’s hutch. The rabbit, who was as sensitive to Matt’s moods as I was, darted into a corner. “I don’t see why we can’t be
prepared
for the
possibility
”—oh boy, Matt was getting irritated—“that she
might
want to have the child. I bought you some groceries.” He addressed Chrissy, ignoring me now. “Frozen salmon filets, some whole grain bread and cereal. You need eggs in your diet. I read about it.”
My mouth hung open, jaw unhinged.
Matt … researched pregnancy? Bought food for my sister?
And, oh my God, was he against abortion?
No fucking way.
We
had
to talk—about a lot of things. Why the hell did we never talk?
“Thanks,” said Chrissy. “I am actually…” She popped a blueberry into her mouth. “Going to have it. I mean, the baby.” She cleared her throat.
Matt shot a look at me. An “I told you so” kind of look.
“Seth called me,” Chrissy went on. “He wants to take a paternity test, be a part of things.”
“What?” Matt and I spoke in unison.
“He
is
a part of things already.” Chrissy lifted her chin.
“You are not to speak to him.” Matt advanced, towering over my sister. She folded her arms across her stomach. His eyes widened.
Holy shit
. I couldn’t be sure what I was seeing, but Matt seemed more than concerned for the baby. He seemed almost … proprietary.
“I’ll do what I want. You can’t railroad over
me
.” My sister gave him a saucy look.
I leapt off the couch and hugged him from behind. Chrissy didn’t know that look on his face, that tension in his arms. I knew. He was about to blow.
“Just who do you think will be paying for this child?” He spat the words. “Paying your exorbitant medical bills. Providing you with housing if your parents kick you out. Day care. Food. Schooling.
We
will, you ungrateful little—”
“Matt!” I tried to tug him away from Chrissy. He was a monolith, rooted to the rug.
“Seth has plenty of money,” she sniped.
“Seth is on drugs.” Matt trembled in my arms. “He was coked up like a fucking whore in broad daylight last weekend. I almost drowned the weaselly son of a bitch.”
Oh … my … God.
Matt getting angry was like Matt getting horny. Crazy unpredictable.
“Please,” I whispered. “Stop.”
Chrissy darted away, heading for the door. “He does drugs socially. Rarely.”
“Ah, of course.” Matt followed Chrissy. I clung ineffectually to his arm. “That makes it quite all right. A father who does drugs socially, rarely. You do that, too? I wouldn’t be surprised. Have you already subjected that poor child to substances? Are you going to be a single mother working at a strip club? You’re well on your way to trashiest parents of the year.”
“Fuck you!
I’ve
never done coke”—Chrissy’s eyes flickered to me, then back to Matt—“and I’m sorry if you’re fucking sensitive about that topic.”
“Chrissy!” My voice went shrill. Had Seth told her about our hookup? Was she seriously throwing me under the bus right now? I
did
do a line that night. One line. The first and the last.
Matt stilled. The muscles in his arms relaxed, which somehow frightened me more than his tension.
“Get out.” His voice was murderously low.
My sister’s insolence faded in a heartbeat; she shrank against the door.
“G-gladly.” She glanced at me and flushed. “See why I didn’t want to tell him? Get your psycho boyfriend under control. God.”
She scurried out of the condo.
The door slammed and I sagged against it.
Who should I follow? Matt, or my sister?
My heart pummeled against my ribs.
Matt returned to the couch and sat there, posed like “The Thinker.” His gaze strayed restively over the area rug. I went to him.
“I’m … sorry,” I said, unsure why I said it. I perched beside him and rubbed his shoulders. “That didn’t go as planned…”
Mmph
, I could almost
feel
Matt thinking about the Four Seasons scene: me doing a line, my hand around Seth’s—
“The hell with her,” he said.
I pulled back.
“What? She was embarrassed, Matt. Defensive. You laid into her.”
“
I
laid into
her
?” He gave me an incredulous look. “She … she—”
“She’ll come around. Let me talk to her.”
“I don’t give a fuck if she comes around.” Fresh anger darkened his face. “She can come around all she wants. She’s not getting shit from me. I bought her
food
. I wrote her a
check
. I was ready to set up a line of credit if she—”
“What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?”
Matt blinked and tilted his head, as if communication were an alien concept.
“Hello?” I waved my hand in his face. “See this ring? It means we’re getting married. It means we have to talk about things. Be a unified front.”
“Hannah…” He looked appalled. “It’s my money. I thought—”
Hot tears sprang to my eyes.
His
money? What happened to
our
money? I’d just dropped seven hundred bucks on a whip that I was prepared to give to this unpredictable man because I wanted to know everything he wanted, even if it frightened me.
I bolted out of the room.
This week … this fucking week.
I needed a good, long, loud cry. And tea. And cuddles. But not with Matt. And not with one of the zillions of plush animals he’d given me. God, I missed Daisy.
I whimpered and clapped a hand over my mouth.
As I headed down the hallway, I realized I had nowhere private to go. The office basically belonged to Matt. The bedroom and bathroom were ours. The kitchen and TV room were too open, and he was there. Should I hide in the laundry room?
I remembered his defense when I caught him mansion-shopping.
This place is tiny. You have no real room of your own.
Ugh, he was right.
I locked myself in the bedroom and let my tears fall.
MATT
Sleeping on the couch is a bitch.
My back ached even after my morning run, even after a round of sit-ups and stretches—and a long, hot, lonely shower.
As I padded past the bedroom, a towel around my waist, I tried the knob once more.
Still locked.
I pressed my ear to the door and frowned.
Hannah had been bunkered in our bedroom all night and most of this morning. It was nearly noon. The AC ticked on and I sighed, roaming back to the kitchen.
“I am definitely in the doghouse,” I muttered to Laurence.
A notepad on the counter contained my list for the day.
FIX SHIT
— Talk about things w/Hannah (money, therapy, Chrissy)
— Date (picnic or dinner)
I peeled off the note and wrote another.
Hannah baby, please come out. You can’t stay in there forever. I’m sorry. I love you. I need clothes. XO
I knocked gently on the bedroom door before slipping the note beneath it. Then I retreated to the TV room.
Several minutes later, I heard the door squeak open and clap shut.
I returned to find it locked, a pair of my socks folded on the floor beside a note.
Here you go.
Grinning, I turned over her note and wrote another.
Where am I supposed to wear these? Or am I supposed to use them for something else? Take pity on a half-naked man. It’s getting chilly out here.
I flicked my reply under the door, then sat on the floor and waited. Soon I heard Hannah rustling in the bedroom. The door opened a crack and a T-shirt flew out.
She slammed it shut quickly.
Click
went the lock.
“Goddamn it, Hannah.”
I pulled on the T-shirt and shot another note under the door.
Is this your way of saying you want to see my dick? So coy …
A moment later, the door opened and a pair of sweatpants hit me in the face.
Slam!—click.
“Hannah!” I lunged against the door. “Baby bird?”
No reply.
God, women are fucking mysterious.
I stalked back to the kitchen and prepared for our picnic, jamming things into a daypack. Goober peanut butter and jelly. A sack of the whole grain bread I’d bought for ungrateful Chrissy. A few pears, a banana. Hannah called bananas “the portable fruit.” And her safe word, which she had never used, not even during our roughest play, was “peaches.” Jesus, did she have to be so cute?
“What’s got you in a huff?”
I jumped and turned. Hannah stood a few feet away, her curvy hip propped against the counter, nothing on but an oversized T-shirt.
“Packing,” I mumbled. “For our picnic.”
She arched a brow.
“We’re going on a picnic?”
“I’d like to.” I cleared my throat and gazed into the bag. I plucked out the banana. “I got the … portable fruit.”
I half-smiled and glanced at her. She frowned, her expression softening.
“Stop being cute,” she said.
“Can’t help it. Hey, thanks for picking this hot outfit…” I regarded my sweats.
“You’re infuriating.”
“So I hear.” I stepped toward Hannah. Makeup sex? She took a step back.
“I’m going to shower. Then we can … go on your picnic, I guess.”
She flitted away and I stared after her.
God, if her shirt would just ride up a little higher.…
* * *
We drove out to Betasso Preserve, where I knew we’d have some privacy. I took the Jeep. In spite of Hannah’s aloof mood, I found myself smiling as we hit the trail.
“I haven’t been here in a long time,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
She remained silent.
I reached for her hand and admired her as we hiked. She wore loose, khaki-colored pants that hid the curves of her legs and a tight black tank top that hid nothing. A pink sports bra peeked out from under the tank, clinging to her ample chest.
I am horny as fuck today
, I mused as we walked. Did sleeping without Hannah affect me, or was I always this bad? Impossible to tell. The harder I tried to pry my eyes off her, the more lascivious my stares became.
Finally, I tore my gaze free and glared at the horizon. It really was beautiful—the hills dotted with pines, the sky a flawless faded blue. No one in sight. Dry grass, hot wind … a harsh beauty particular to Colorado, which I had come to love.
Mm, and Hannah’s breasts …
I longed to peel that sports bra off them, to free her copious, luscious flesh. Hold her ass while I sucked her nipples. See her cunt, her legs spread—
Fuck!
I jerked my stare away from Hannah … again.
“Are you … okay?” she said.
“Of course.” I looked steadfastly at the trail. “Enjoying nature.”
“You sure? ’Cause you look like you want to murder nature.”
“I can’t focus. It’s this pace. I’m used to running on these trails.”
Briefly, I envisioned myself and Hannah jogging. Hannah jogging. Hannah’s tits—
Good fucking God!
“We’re dawdling,” I snapped. “I’m hungry … starved.” I picked up the pace, hauling poor Hannah along at my side.
When we lost sight of the trailhead and picnic tables, I plowed off the path, up a hillside. There, in an arbitrary coppice of pines, I came to a halt. I glared around.
“Here,” I announced.
She spread our blanket and I set down the pack.
The shade felt heavenly. I stripped off my T-shirt and used it to wick the light sweat from my face and arms. After a beat, I looked at Hannah.
Damn.
I’d hoped to catch her staring at me, but she was focused on unpacking our lunch.
“I need sunscreen on my back,” I said quietly.
Without so much as glancing at me, she found the bottle and held it up. I smirked and took it. So, she wanted to play hardball …
“Thanks.” I sat on a corner of the blanket and worked off my Merrells and socks at a leisurely pace. I rolled my ankles. I reapplied a film of lotion to my arms, then the back of my neck, my sides around to my spine, down to the small of my back. I stretched forward and gave a soft, content moan as some bone in my back popped.
“I thought you were
starved
,” Hannah snapped, glaring into the pack.
“I am. My mouth is watering, in fact…” My gaze lingered on her body. I grinned and waggled the sunscreen bottle. “Safety first, though.”
I lay on my back and stretched out one leg. As I slathered sunscreen on my chest, I watched Hannah out of the corner of my eye. Ha
,
she looked tense … as tense as I’d probably looked on the trail, trying to keep my eyes off her.