“So, ah, you and Rory?” Courtney managed to ask through the ache in her chest.
Arwen shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been running from him for a couple of weeks. And really, we only hooked up for a few days.”
Courtney refrained from suggesting that running from Rory might be a good thing. Maybe it was time for her to quit passing judgment. “So you’re going to stop running?” she asked instead.
Arwen nodded. “Yeah. I am. And if he breaks my heart, at least I won’t have any regrets. Maybe I’ll pull up stakes and move to Nashville the way Rory wants me to.”
Another shaft to the heart. “I don’t want you to leave. Everyone’s leaving or getting married or…”
Arwen patted Courtney’s back. “I’m not going to hop on his bike and run away. He might have suggested that, but I’m not that crazy. If I moved to Nashville, it would be something I plan. But I’m not ruling it out, okay?”
“Okay. And I’m, uh, sorry about the—”
“Damn,” Arwen said. “Tell me you didn’t accuse Matt of sleeping with me.”
“Uh, yeah, I sort of did.”
“Oh my God. You need to go talk to him. He needs you. I wasn’t the only one fired today.”
“Matt lost his job?”
Arwen nodded. “His own father canned him. He was marched out of the office like he’d committed some kind of high crime or misdemeanor.”
Matt sprawled on his couch watching MSNBC without paying much attention. The drone of the commentator helped him to keep his emotions distant, which was fine with him because he didn’t want to parse through them. He didn’t want to open himself up and try to examine what had just happened.
Besides, dissecting his feelings would do nothing to change them. He’d never wanted to be a country lawyer, so it was no surprise that he’d failed so spectacularly. He’d never wanted to be Don Quixote either.
Tilting at windmills had its downsides. Linda’s protests wouldn’t change a thing. Not when Jerry Beyer could reach out with his influence and twist the world. People said blood was thicker than water, but that wasn’t true in the Lyndon family. Jerry Beyer gave money to Heather, and Heather outranked him because she was smarter and more accomplished.
So he sat alone in his living room, waiting. Always waiting. But for what? The answer came to him when Courtney knocked on his door and said, “I need to apologize.”
Yes, she did. But did he want her apology? Somehow the apology meant less than the trust he longed for. The trust she couldn’t seem to give. Maybe part of that was his fault. But who knew?
He couldn’t let her stand in the hallway, so he dragged himself from the couch and opened the door to find her standing in the hallway with Dr. Doom cuddled in her arms. Everything about her posture screamed regret, from the slope of her shoulders to the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
“I just had a long talk with Arwen,” she said in a trembling voice. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions the way I did, and I understand why I’ve lost your trust. Here’s Dr. Doom.” She held the cat out to him. It was one hell of a peace offering since she’d brought over her favorite cat—the cuddly one. And yet some stubborn part of him still wanted more.
“Don’t you want him?” Her voice seemed ready to crack open.
His chest tightened with a swirl of emotion he wanted to keep at bay. He couldn’t answer her question because he was too confused, angry, lost.
She took a step into the room. “I know you lost your job. I’m so, so sorry about that. And I know my behavior this morning was…I don’t know…unacceptable. I probably can’t ever get your trust back. And deservedly so. But I do care about you. Can we talk about this?”
He shook his head. “Look, I’m too angry right now. I’m not even sure what happened, not just with you and me but with my father. And—”
“I should never have encouraged you to give all that dirt to Linda Petersen. I mean, I should have realized that getting Linda involved would create huge problems for you. Willow even warned me about it.”
“Warned you? How?”
She shrugged. “Just that the Lyndon family is sometimes…” Her voice faded out.
“Yeah, my family.” A painful bolt of fury struck him in the chest. His family. His father in particular had done his best over the years to mold him into someone he had never wanted to be.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice got thin, and a tear escaped one of her eyes.
He couldn’t stand to watch her cry, so he turned his back and took a couple of steps into the room. “You’re not responsible for my family. They’ve always been difficult. And living up to the Lyndon ideal is impossible.”
“So don’t.”
He stopped and turned. Goddammit, she was so beautiful. Despite the pain she’d inflicted this morning, he still admired the way she could cut through the bullshit and speak the unvarnished truth. He didn’t have to live up to their expectations. He could be like Amy or Daniel or David, all of whom had rebelled at one time or another.
But was that what he needed? It sure wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was something else altogether.
“Look, I’m exhausted,” he finally said. “And I’m angry and disappointed and kinda lost, if you want to know the truth. I don’t need your commentary on my life. I don’t need you to dissect me or inspect me or shove me in a pigeonhole. I don’t need your advice about how to live or how to be or how to deal with my family. What I want is…you. All of you. Right now.” His little speech was so utterly inarticulate. How could he put this feeling into words? All he wanted was a place to rest his head. A place where he didn’t have to perform. Where he didn’t have to be anything. A
