One Last Shot (Pub Fiction #3) (18 page)

“Gah, what the hell is wrong with me? Why is this so hard? No more silly Internet pick-up lines. This is serious,” I chastise, while I delete once again.

In the end I type a simple text asking him to meet me. I don’t tell him why or what the place is, and thankfully his response was a positive, like Kat predicted it would be. Albeit a bit slowly, he did finally respond and I was feeling relieved.

I plan on revealing a lot to Matt about what I’ve been doing the last month, and I’m a nervous wreck about it. Thank goodness Kat knows how to control me, she’s made the executive decision that some much-needed retail therapy is in order. If you ask Kat, it’s a surefire way to keep my mind off the fact that I’ll be seeing Matty on Sunday, which is in two days. She’s right, I need to get out of the house and do something. I’ve been a walking disaster since I texted him. And with the end of summer break honing in on us both, we decided that was another perfect excuse to spend the afternoon together, getting our traditional mani-pedi’s, followed up by the planned shopping spree.
Teachers need back to school clothes, too, right?

“Are you sure he won’t be here?” I ask a bit nervously, still not too happy with Kat’s little bombshell that we needed to stop at The Locker Room first before heading to Pen Centre to get our shop on.

“Nah, he’s out all day. He had to go to some conference thingy this morning. I guess Matt drew the short end of the stick; he had to drive to Toronto to sit and hear all about some new training system BowFlex is trying to get sports medicine clinics to buy. He’s not due back until tomorrow, so you, my friend, are safe for another day,” she admonishes, hitting the lock on her key fob.

Stepping into The Locker Room, I smile when we see Deanna sitting behind her desk.

“Hey, Deanna, is Ryker in his office?” Kat asks.

Apparently bringing your hubby lunch is one of the cutesy wifely duties you take on as a newlywed. I guess Kat’s been doing that since they’ve been back from their honeymoon. It’s completely adorable and makes me want to gag at how sweet it friggin’ is. Like she legit has a little cooler bag, with a homemade lunch tucked inside.

“Yes, he actually just finished with a client. Head on up, he’s expecting you,” she smiles.

“Oh, I bet he is,” I say. “Should I wait here and keep Deanna company while you go deliver his…
lunch
?” Deanna and I burst out laughing.

Kat grins.

“No, it’s okay. Besides, there’s no time for
that
today—I’m afraid our spa appointment is in twenty minutes,” she says, looking at her watch. “Ryker hates rushing his…
lunch
,” she raises her brows suggestively, “so just pop up with me. It’ll be safe and quick. Promise.”

“For some reason that doesn’t make me feel better…at all.” I shake my head, following behind her. “Wish me luck, D, and we so need a night out soon,” I say over my shoulder as we walk toward the entrance to the main area of the rehab centre. I whisper to Kat: “We need to give that girl a makeover and get her a man. She’s way too hot to hide behind those glasses and those grandma clothes.”

“Want to know what I think?” Kat asks as we walk.

“Obviously.”

“I think she’s got a secret crush on Justin. I’ve caught her staring a few times since we all went to Pub Fiction for our staff holiday party. Deanna is definitely smitten with the man.”

“Oh, Jesus, we need to get her rehabilitated, stat. That man is nothing but heartbreak waiting to happen for a girl like her.” I stop beside Kat, as she grabs a Blue Cherry Gatorade from the vending machine.

“Really, he can’t get his own drink? What the hell is poor little Rykie going do when you’re back teaching everyday?” I ask, holding open the glass door which leads out onto the floor.

“I’m sure he’ll think of something. Besides it’s not like it’s far. I think I might be able to sneak off down the road every once in a while,” she says, eyeing me suggestively.

“Dude, you sure you don’t want me to go wait with Deanna? You’ve got this whole raunchy porno movie vibe going, and the last thing I wanna bear witness to is ‘The Office: Kitty Kat Does Ryker’.”

We both laugh out loud as we leave the vending machine area. After some more coaxing, she convinces me that I’ll be safe from Kat-Ryk screenplay—at least for today.

We chitchat about how far this place has come since the guys opened it a few years ago. It’s awesome to see how well it’s doing. They’ve worked hard to make a name for the place and it shows. I follow close to Kat while my eyes take in all the equipment, the gym, and the many patients, as we cross the expansive training and rehab centre’s main floor.

I’m about half way across the mats when I hear it. That voice. That familiar voice, the one whose pull washes over me and causes instant heart palpitations along with a definite jolt of panic.
It’s him
. Matty.

I know I should keep walking, I know it. And I know it would be best to avoid him until our scheduled meet. My brain knows this. It’s too bad that my heart and every feeling down to the marrow of my bones won’t let me. Even after the way things ended, it’s like I’m tethered to this man, no matter what words might spew from my mouth, or his.
God, why can’t I just walk on?

Looking around the room, like the glutton for hurt I am, my eyes land on him within seconds. And I swear the Claire goddesses are NOT on my side today at all. He’s kneeling in front of a beautiful blonde. Oh, but not only is he kneeling in front of her, his hands are running along her left leg. I get that it’s a job requiring “hands on”, but this…is more, this looks fucking intimate, the lingering touch, the appearance of gentle rubbing.
God, I feel sick
. Tears burn the back of my eyes immediately, my brain suddenly conjuring up a new porn video, one without Kat and Ryker—now it’s “Matty Does Blondie and Her Name Isn’t Claire”.

I feel like a part of me just died with the thought of Matty with another woman. One I told him to go find.
What the fuck have I done?
Please don’t let me be too late. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach as Blondie rests her hand on his shoulder.
My shoulder
.

Walking in slow motion, I round the edge of the gym toward the stairs, stairs leading to the offices, ones I should be running to. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to communicate an SOS to my legs, or my eyes for that matter. I can’t keep my eyes off of them or make my legs pick up speed to take us to safety. I’m in so much shock that I almost walk right into one of the elliptical machines. Luckily, everyone seems too busy to notice the klutz who’s gawking like some kind of wayward perv.

“Kat,” I whisper-yell, as she’s so far ahead of me and I’ve stopped full-on to have an emotional breakdown. I can see his face from this angle, and what I see steals the final breath from my lungs, instantly making me wilt. Matty’s smiling up at Blondie now, looking at her, giving her the look I always felt was reserved specifically for me. A look of admiration, humour, longing and love. A look that he can’t be giving to her. A gasp escapes me just as Kat sidles back beside me.

“Claire, why’d you sto—” she cuts herself off, following my line of sight.

“Who is that, Kat?” I ask, my voice weak, a whisper.

“That’s Mercedes.”

“Fuck, of course it is,” I sneer. “Who is she, though?”

“I’m not going to lie to you. They went out a few times last year. They’ve been cozy in the past. But I didn’t think she was coming in anymore. Matty had ended it after a month or two, and she didn’t think she could handle him working on her anymore. She, of course, wanted what he didn’t want to give her. Mercedes is supposed to be Justin’s patient now, or so I thought,” Kat answers, her confusion as evident as mine.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it’s an issue now, does it? She likes my Matty’s hands just fine, doesn’t she?”

“I’m sorry, Claire. I don’t know why he’s even here. He’s supposed to be in Toronto. Let’s go ask Ryker, he’ll tell us what the hell’s going on.”

God, what have I done?
I cover my mouth. My eyes sting at the realization: I did this. I could have been happy. Instead I’ve made a shithouse mess for all involved. “I’m so stupid, Kat. Fuck, I’ve been so, so, so wrong. I love him. He totally is my Dorothy. I pushed him to this. I’m an idiot. I guess my text was too little to late.” My knees almost give way as tunnel vision takes over. I teeter on my feet, forcing my legs to run up the stairs. I need to get away.

“Claire, wait!” Kat calls from behind me, trying to follow. Once she catches up, she pulls me into Ryker’s office and locks the door behind us, giving me space to completely shatter.

Matt

I
check the
text from Claire for the tenth time before returning my phone to my office desk. She’d texted out of the blue yesterday morning and I’ve got this feeling of “it’s too good to be true” going on. Hence the checking it over and over again like some crazed lunatic.
Hell, maybe I am crazy
. Luckily, the message does, in fact, exist and I’m gonna see my girl in a couple of days.

“Now to figure out what the hell to say,” I whisper to myself, considering the vagueness of the message.
Is this a good sign? Are we going to make up? Fuck, I hate this.
Seeing the message after our long stalemate, I can’t lie, I was fired right the fuck up at seeing her name appear on the screen.

Sugarshack:
Matty, Hi. It’s me. Sorry it’s been so long but I was hoping if you’re free Sunday evening you could meet me at 743 Hartzel Rd at seven? I have something I’d like to share with you.

After thinking about it for more than an hour, I responded. Of course I’d be going. I did, however, need to play it cool. I’d spent too long being the pussy in this relationship. It might have been a dick move, but I wanted Claire to be the one festering for a change. This was the first time in two years that I’d gotten a text from her. I’d been the one texting her while she was in Ottawa, and, of course, she never replied. So, this is…what, progress? A reason to hope? Or is it a simply a case of wishful thinking?

Me:
Sure. I can do that.

Sugarshack:
Thanks Matty. See you Sunday.

Me:
Looking forward to it.

’Cause I really fucking am.

It’s been almost a month since the wedding. A month since I left her in the washroom. A fucking month of trying to get her out of my head. According to Ryker, she’s doing well, information I had mixed feelings about. Despite me telling him at Pub Fiction a while back that I no longer wanted to hear this shit, the bastard has taken it upon himself to ensure that I get an almost daily summary of all things Claire. Sure, I only want her to be happy, but
I’d
be happier if I was a contributing factor to her happiness. It’s what I thought was going to be my lot in life since the day I met her.

Ryker insists on updating me about every other aspect of her life, too, including if she’s dating or not. Claire told me to see other women (or, rather, all but ordered me to). But according to Ryker and Kat, she’s full of shit and doesn’t want either of us dating—she regrets saying it. Apparently she never made the date with Jude like she’d told me she was going to, and Ryker says she’s been asking about me a shit-ton, asking whether or not I’ve been seeing anyone and hinting for more details.
Fuck, this woman is infuriating.

I wish she’d grow the balls to ask me all this shit herself. I’d be more than happy to tell her that it’s still only her.
Maybe Sunday I’ll get the chance.

The glimmer of hope I had is getting a bit bigger with each revelation from Kat and Ryker. And that thing today with Mercedes only proved what I already knew. Claire’s the only girl I want. Regardless of me telling her otherwise, or trying to convince myself that I don’t want her anymore, I do, and I probably won’t ever stop. I haven’t dated since the epic fails with Emily and what’s-her-face a few weeks back, and I don’t plan on dating anyone else anytime soon either, unless it’s a date with Claire, of course.

It’s obvious that Mercedes still wants me. Every time she sees me she makes it obvious. Unfortunately for her, we had our fun and despite her wishing for another chance, I’m not interested. The only girl who gets chance after chance with me is the one who’s got me so twisted up inside. Claire Knox affects me like no other. I would give that girl a million chances despite knowing better. What’s that saying: “you can’t choose who you love”?

Claire’s text message had left me giddy as fuck, knowing I was gonna see her on Sunday, that she wants to see me. Too bad it was Mercedes who got to enjoy my lightened mood. I felt a little guilty after our session, like I may have given Mercedes the wrong impression by being overly friendly. But I was happy, for the first time in weeks.

Mercedes was all up on me during her appointment today, and she’s not even my patient anymore. It was part of the deal I’d made with Justin when he agreed to take my spot at the conference in Toronto today, fitting in his regular patients between my own.

Mercedes and I had dated a few times last year. It was fun, never serious, not for me, anyway. She wanted more than I was willing to give so I ended things and she started using Justin as her physiotherapist instead of me. Still, to this day she pulls out all the stops trying to persuade me and to get my attention. I was reluctant to take her appointment today, knowing it might be awkward, but the last thing I wanted to do was sit in a stupid conference listening to the BowFlex dudes drone on. That would be a recipe for a Claire Thoughtapalooza Festival for sure. At least at work I’m constantly busy, there’s no real time for thinking when I’m here in the zone. Someone who could actually pay attention needed to go to that conference.

Mercedes was extra flirty today and I’m not gonna lie, being in a good mood I might have come across as if I were reciprocating.
Hell, maybe for a split second I did?
Subconsciously, maybe I was using Mercedes to test myself. Obviously, I was stupid. I already knew it would feel wrong. And it did, it just felt…forced. So I finished her therapy as quickly as possible and came upstairs.