“This is about that woman, isn’t it?”
He stopped and turned. The softness in her voice was gone now, stripped away so fast it was almost dizzying. In its place was the cold, clipped edge he remembered too well.
“That’s none of your business,” he said.
Victoria folded her arms. “She’s not good enough for you, Mathew.”
Anger moved through him, hot and immediate. “You don’t even know her.”
“But I know her type. The clothes. The dirt under her fingernails. That girl is a Cinderella story waiting to happen. She’s just biding her time until you sweep her off her feet and turn her into the princess she’s always dreamed of becoming.”
For one stunned second, he could only stare at her.
Then he gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You really don’t understand her at all.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
“River doesn’t want rescuing. She doesn’t need polishing up. And she sure doesn’t need someone like you deciding who she is from across a sidewalk.”
Color crept into Victoria’s cheeks.
Mathew stepped closer, not threatening, just enough to let her know he was serious. “Whatever story you came here to tell yourself, leave her out of it.”
She looked away first.
He let out a slow breath. “Goodbye, Victoria. Don’t show up like this again. If there’s anything left to handle, it can go through our lawyers.”
Then he turned and walked away, every step heavier with the knowledge that an even harder conversation was still waiting for him.
“You needto let me see her,” Mathew said, his voice rougher than he intended, but Emerson didn’t flinch. His arms were folded, and his expression was set hard.
“Not unless she says she wants to.”
Mathew’s grip tightened around the flowers, crushing the paper around the stems. “I need a chance to explain. I need her to know what really happened.”
“If that was so important, you would have been here a lot sooner,” Emerson snapped.
Mathew’s stomach dropped. There was no arguing with that. Emerson was right. He should’ve told Victoria he had nothing to say and made River the priority.
Instead, he’d made the worst possible choice at the worst possible time.
Rose stepped out of the apartment and headed down the stairs. Mathew’s eyes followed her, searching for any indication that River would be open to a conversation. He couldn’t read a single thing in his cousin’s expression.
He found nothing.
His voice came out lower now, frayed at the edges. “Please. Just let me talk to her. I can explain.”
“Explain what?” Rose demanded. “That you were married? That you got divorced? Because unfortunately, she found that out from Penny instead of you.”
The accusation landed like a blow. He should have told River. He knew that now with a clarity that made him sick.
Rose stopped at the bottom step, disappointment written plain across her face. “You need to go. And for now, I think it’s better if you don’t come back for a while.”
His eyes widened. “Rose?—”
“No.” Her voice sharpened. “I trusted you with her. I thought you would be honest with her. You weren’t.”
“I planned to tell her when the time was right,” he said, though even to his own ears the words sounded weak.
