A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2) (20 page)

Stacy Creston stood in Emma’s kitchen two evenings later, praising the improvements Matt had done while “absently” twirling the oversized diamond on her finger.  Emma decided to humor her and finally take the bait.  “That’s a beautiful ring,” she said with a polite smile.  “Did you recently get engaged?”

“Yes!” Stacy gushed, touching Emma’s arm, all too thrilled to share.  “Last month!  He proposed over Thanksgiving.  Marc’s a mutual funds analyst; we live in Beacon Hill,” she offered proudly.

“That’s great.  Congratulations,” Emma managed, even as a bitter part of her chanted,
Enjoy it while it lasts
.  As soon as the thought entered her mind, though, it felt wrong.  Maybe Stacy Creston and her finance guy actually would have a great, long life together.  Maybe Fate would smile on them.  Maybe they would be blessed with babies and bling for years to come...

“Emma?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I was saying that I already have a potential buyer interested in seeing the house.”

“Really?” Emma said, pleasantly surprised.  “You only just listed it.”

“I know, but the pictures online look amazing!  The improvements you’ve made in the kitchen are incredible.  The room’s a show-stopper now.  A bit small, of course--you never knocked down that wall as I’d hoped--but overall, it looks terrific!”

After thanking her again, Emma spontaneously added, “I used Winter Contracting & Construction for everything, including the faucets.  They were amazing and very reasonable.  You know, in case any of your other clients are looking for recommendations about who to use.”

Nodding encouragingly, Stacy said, “That’s good to know.  Winter Contracting.  Okay, I’ll remember that.”

Just then Jake came into the kitchen and said, “Mommy, can we go outside?”

“No, sweetie, it’s dark out,” Emma replied.

“But we want to try the trampoline,” he said, as if that were helping his chances. 

“Trampoline?” Emma echoed, trying to conceal her annoyance in front of Stacy.  But honestly--had Cheryl from next-door run her mouth about the trampoline to Emma’s sons directly, after Emma had asked her not to?  Oh, why was she surprised? 

“Forget it.  I don’t want you playing on that,” Emma said simply and didn’t provide further explanation.

“But--”

“Jake, I’m talking with someone right now,” Emma said firmly, giving him the mom-warning glance.  With a defeated sigh, he turned and left the room--walking extra slowly so as to convey his utter dejection.  “Sorry about that.”

“No problem, I have to run anyway.  But I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know when I’ll be bringing prospective buyers over.”

Emma thanked her and soon after, Stacy left. 

Now Jake and Ben were stacking LEGO blocks in front of the Christmas tree and the house was peaceful.  With a sigh, Emma sank onto the couch and watched her boys playing.  They were so adorable, so sweet--they were everything. 

The tree she’d picked out with Matt was beyond perfect.  Standing tall in their living room, it looked majestic and gorgeous, adorned with ribbons and candy canes, and sparkling with lights.  Her sons had literally jumped around, excited, when they first saw it. 

Every time Emma admired the tree, she thought of Matt.  Even though she hadn’t talked to him since their argument at his apartment, he was never far from her mind.  So many times over the past two days she’d considered calling or texting, to apologize or to offer some sort of olive branch.  What always stopped her was the knowledge that there was nowhere to go from there.  If she reached out to him now, she only risked giving him mixed signals.  Or worse, pissing him off with platonic subjects like mnemonic devices, in an effort to smooth things over. 

No, it was better this way.  Anyone could see that.  In fact, “it’s better this way” was the drab, trite mental refrain she had latched onto recently and she planned to stick to it.  With any luck, it would get her through Christmas.

The doorbell rang the following evening, startling Emma while she was working on her laptop.  Up until then, the house had been quiet.  That is, after Emma’s mom picked up Jake and Ben to take them to dinner, and after Stacy Creston showed the house.  The only real disturbance since had been the unfortunate trail of cloying vanilla musk that Stacy’s prospect had left behind after his tour.

Since she hadn’t heard from Matt since their fight, Emma had to assume that he, too, had realized the futility of dragging out their inevitable goodbyes.  The only other person who might show up was…Cheryl?  God, she hoped not.  She didn’t feel like making small talk and besides, she was still ticked at her neighbor for putting the horrible garage-trampoline idea in Jake’s head.  He and Ben had been pestering Emma about it ever since.

When she glanced through the side window, she let out a soft gasp.  Though she could only see his arm, she recognized Matt’s coat.  Her heart sped up as she tried to calm her nerves.  What was Matt doing here?  What would she say to him?

Biting her lip, she hesitated.  God, she couldn’t resist him.  If she opened the door and let him come inside, how could she stop herself from feeling things for him?  What if he tried to kiss her?  Could she honestly find the willpower to push him away?

Briefly, she contemplated pretending she wasn’t home, but then dismissed that utterly transparent plan.  Her car in the driveway and half the lights on in the house didn’t exactly sell the idea.

The truth was, she still missed Matt all the time; she had to force herself not to think about it.  At night, putting him out of her mind was nearly impossible.  How could she lie in bed and not think of him next to her--not remember how warm and strong he’d felt beside her?  Her loneliness was more acute over the past few days than it had been in years.

Finally, she gulped down a calming breath and opened the door.

“Hey,” Matt said gruffly as soon as he saw her.  His tone and his demeanor were to-the-point.  No easy smile, no warmth.

“Hi.  Come in.”  She stepped aside as he entered, carrying a thick, flat square wrapped in bubble wrap.  She doubted he was bringing her a painting as a peace offering.  Raising her eyebrows in question, she waited for him to explain.

“Storm window,” he said curtly. 

“Oh…”

“You said come Thursday night when the boys aren’t here.”

“You’re right,” she said quickly, because technically he was.  Though, she never figured he would come after how they’d left things.  Why would Matt help her if he was angry with her?  Which he clearly seemed to be, based on his aloof manner.

Unless…could the window just be an excuse to see her?  A ploy to seduce her? she wondered hopefully.  Then mentally cursed her lack of willpower.  She needed to stay in control here.  What was her lame mantra again…?  Oh, right. 
It’s all for the best
, she told herself.

In fact, it was probably a bad idea to become even more indebted to him.  He’d already done so much for her already.  She really didn’t want to take advantage.  “Matt, listen, it’s very sweet of you to offer, but given our situation and--”

He swiftly cut her off.  “Emma, believe me, I’m not here to talk about us.  Or to try to hook up with you, or for any other hidden agenda.  I’m here because there’s a storm coming this week, and your laundry room window is sub-par.  I don’t want Jake and Ben to freeze.”  Keeping quiet, Emma pressed her lips together.  “It’ll only take ten minutes.  So are you going to let me do what needs to be done, or are you just going to stand there being stubborn?”

She raised her hands in surrender and watched as Matt bypassed her, heading to the laundry room at the back of the house.  While he worked, Emma stayed safely in the living room, out of arguing- or kissing-distance.  Sitting by the glittering tree, Emma listened to the faint sound of bubble wrap tearing and intermittent hammering, and just like that, he was done.  When he crossed to the foyer again, she noticed that he hadn’t even taken his jacket off; he’d done the whole job like it was nothing.

“Um, wait,” Emma called out, coming to her feet, “how much do I owe you?”

Matt spared her a brief, annoyed glance, then continued to the front door.  Emma’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.  Somehow it was easier to
assume
that Matt no longer liked her than to see it played out in person. 

“Well…see ya around, Emma,” he said on his way out, and shut the door behind him. 

“See ya,” she murmured sadly to an empty room.

Christmas passed too fast, as it always did.

Jake and Ben were ecstatic over their abundance of presents.  Between Emma, Andy, their mom, and their dad shipping more gifts from Switzerland, Emma’s sons had been beyond spoiled this year.  Andy invited Emma to come to Tragan’s parents’ house on Christmas Eve, but she declined.  As a mom, Christmas Eve was her big prep night.  Also…she knew Matt would probably be there.  As immature as it was, she just couldn’t face him.

She’d really blown it; based on their last brief interaction, it seemed that he didn’t even want to be friends.  Emma knew they couldn’t be
more
than that once she left, but she supposed that lately she’d convinced herself Matt could stay in her life at a distance.  Maybe they’d email here and there about his exam or crossword puzzle clues.  Really, she supposed she was kidding herself to think that she could let him go and keep him at the same time.

The day after Christmas, Stacy Creston had left a message on the machine.  “Exciting news!” she had squeaked.  “We’ve got an offer on the house!”  Apparently the prospect with the vanilla musk had taken the holiday to think it over, and decided he was ready to buy.  Emma had yet to respond to the offer, her mind still scattered by the holidays…and other things.

Privately, she had told Andy that she and Matt were no longer seeing each other, making it clear she didn’t want to discuss it.  Without pushing the topic, Andy had respected her wishes--until a couple of days after Christmas, when Emma’s mom was watching the boys, and Emma was over at Andy’s apartment, helping her take down decorations and polish off the leftover sugar cookies.  That was when Andy “casually” broached the subject. 

“So I saw Matt today,” she said, as she pulled tinsel off the tree and Emma sat cross-legged on the rug, de-threading hooks from ornaments.

Instinctively, Emma’s head snapped up.  Then, after a beat, she nonchalantly said, “Oh, really?” 

Andy nodded as she continued stuffing silvery tufts of tinsel into a bag.  “He looked sort of miserable without you.”

“Please,” Emma said dismissively.  “Did he say something?”

“He didn’t have to; it was obvious.”

At that, Emma rolled her eyes.  “Sure.  Okay.”

“Are you ever going to talk to him again?”

“Andy, I’m willing to talk to him.  We’re not in a fight or anything,” Emma insisted, though it was only partially true.  “We’re just not together, romantically.  That’s all.”

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but…”

“Because there’s not much to say,” Emma interrupted, focusing again on the pile of ornaments in her lap.  “It’s not like I’m keeping some big secret as to why Matt and I aren’t hanging out anymore.  It’s not that dramatic,” she said, which also wasn’t particularly honest.  Still she pressed on with deliberate aplomb, “You know, we had some fun, but it was a casual thing and now it’s over.  It happens to people everyday.”

Her sister shocked her by barking out a mocking laugh.  “Sorry, but… happens every day?  We had some fun and now it’s over?  Who
are
you?”

“What?”

“Emma, please.  I know you’re trying to downplay whatever happened with you and Matt, but…”  With a weary-sounding sigh, Andy said, “Listen.  Can I say something in a very delicate, non-judgmental way?”

“Um, I really hope so,” Emma stated dryly.  “Because, you know, I could be home having a glass of wine and watching a movie right now.”  She held up her hands.  “Just saying.”

“Are threats needed?” Andy deadpanned, giving her the side-eye.

Emma had to laugh.  “Fine, so spit it out then and let’s move on from the Matt subject.”

“Okay.  I’ll just say this one thing.  You have major issues.”

“
What?
” Emma said, taken aback.  “Where was the delicate, non-judgy part?  I must have missed it.”

“It’s nothing insurmountable,” Andy reassured her, taking a seat on the rug beside her.  “I just think that you’ve become emotionally closed off to men, and have possibly developed a morbid fear of love.”

“Oh, is that all?” Emma said tartly, now glaring at her sister--who had the audacity to continue!

Thoughtfully, Andy remarked, “In a way, it probably would have been better for you if you’d gotten involved with someone sooner.  Because, let’s face it, after four-and-a-half years, you’ve become, well, almost
too
independent.”

“Too independent?” Emma repeated incredulously.  “There’s no such thing!  I can’t believe I’m being criticized for being independent.”  Besides, if she were really
that
independent, she probably would’ve done the weather-stripping better, or conquered that mammoth spider without crumbling.

“I guess I’m not articulating myself well,” Andy qualified, her tone apologetic.  “Basically, I’m afraid that being closed off has become a habit for you.  Worse than that, actually.  I think it’s second nature to you now.  You don’t know how to turn it off.”

Emma sucked in a breath, as she came to her feet.  “Andy I don’t have a fear of love, okay?  Maybe if things were different…but timing is everything,” she continued, resorting to lame clichés now, “and obviously a relationship with Matt wasn’t meant to be.”

“But he’s the only guy you’ve even given a chance to since Connor.”  The words settled hard on Emma’s chest.  “And he made you happy, I could tell.  But now…”  Andy’s voice trailed off as the look of sympathy returned.

“Now
what
?  Andy, I’m happy,” she insisted.  “I have my sons, I have an offer on my house, and Derek told me that the magazine just acquired Bret Fisk, this award-winning short fiction writer, and I’m going to edit his first piece with us.  I couldn’t be more thrilled with life!  Can’t you see that?!” she snapped.

At first Emma didn’t notice that Andy was inching back, looking slightly afraid.  “All right, we’ll drop it,” she said, patting Emma’s shoulder with blatant appeasement.

“Well, don’t patronize me now,” Emma grumbled quietly.

“I’m not,” Andy replied and put her arm around her.  “I just don’t want you to miss out on something because you’re trying to protect yourself.  That’s all.  But, fine, officially dropping it now.” Just then Andy’s phone rang.  “Oh, it’s Tragan,” she chirped as soon as she heard the ring tone, and hurried to her room to answer the call.

When she returned a few minutes later, she said, “Hey, any chance you want to go out on New Year’s Eve?  Tragan mentioned going to the Billiard Grill.  It’ll be fun.”

Emma shook her head.  “No, thanks.  New Year’s Eve is when I stay in with Jake and Ben and we do an ice cream sundae bar and they pick a movie.  I wouldn’t miss that.”

“Oh, that’s true.”  Andy gave a quick shrug, adding, “It’s just as well anyway, now that I think about it, because Matt will probably be there.” 

With that, Andy returned her attention to the tinsel bag, while Emma thought about Matt.  Without a doubt, Emma would rather be home with her sons on New Year’s Eve than anywhere else.  But this year, she also wished Matt could be there with them.  Obviously that couldn’t happen.  Or she and her sons would only get more attached.  Still…

God, she hoped no women hit on him, and that he didn’t kiss another girl at midnight.  (Not that it was any of her business.)