I smiled. “Because you’re a good person.”
He went to take another sip, but I caught his wrist and set his drink down. “Look at me.”
He turned, and I cupped his cheeks, my thumb brushing his jaw. “One of the best, Matt.” I held his gaze, needing him to really hear me. “I’m not just saying that. There’s no one out there like you. No one who shows up for their people the way you do. You’re a protector. And Cole would be damn lucky to have you as his godfather. Nate knows that. He sees you.”
His lips pressed tight, like he wanted to believe me but just… didn’t.
“I see you,” I added softly. “Just like you see me.” I kissed him, slow and certain. “You’re one of the good ones, babe. One of the best.”
His hand slid into my hair, pulling me closer as he kissed me harder.
“I want to believe that so damn bad,” he murmured.
“Then believe it.”
I blink the memory away and smile, a blip of good cutting through the wave of sadness blanketing my body. I never even drank my whiskey after that, but we ended up doing it all over that plane.
And Matt? One look at that baby and his mind was made up. It was love at first sight. He needed Cole like a fish needs water. I don’t think I ever loved Matt more than in that moment, watching him holdthat tiny boy for the first time, already completely wrapped around his finger.
The driver turns onto Perry Street, where Matt’s penthouse overlooks the Hudson.
I’m pushing the door open before the car even comes to a full stop.
“Thanks,” I call over my shoulder as I take off toward the entrance.
My pace quickens through the lobby, and I manage a weak smile when I spot Mikey behind the front desk. “Hi Mikey.”
He flashes me a grin. “Hey, Jordan.” But just as quickly, his smile drops. His face says everything about how I look. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just need to see Matt.”
He doesn’t question it, doesn’t even call up. He just meets me at the private elevator and swipes his keycard.
The doors slide open. “Thank you.” I step in and take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.
A moment later I’m in Matt’s foyer.
“Matt?” I call out, already jogging toward his bedroom when I don’t see him in the living room.
There’s no answer, but a soft light spills from under his bedroom door, and a rhythmic thumping sound carries down the hallway. I breathe in, then breathe out, gathering whatever emotional strength I have left.
By the time I get to his room, I’m as steady as I can be for this moment.
I knock softly. “Matt?”
He barely glances my way as I slowly ease the door open.
He’s sitting on the floor, back against the bed, shirtless, a tennis ball loose in his hand. My eyes sweep across his chest, taking in the ink that’s become so much a part of him. When I reach his face, the air rushes out of me, shattering my heart into tiny little pieces. His eyes are bloodshot. Cheeks tear-streaked. Broken.
A burn builds behind my eyes. “Hey,” I say, so soft I’m not sure he even hears me.
“Hey.” His voice is low, monotone. He doesn’t look over, justtosses the ball against the wall. It bounces once, then returns to him. He catches it and repeats the motion. Toss. Bounce. Catch.
Numb.
I wait for the next toss before crossing in front of him. Then I sink down beside him, close enough that my arm brushes his. I don’t say anything. Not yet. You can’t push Matt with this kind of thing. He’ll talk eventually, but only if he comes to me first.
A few long, heavy minutes pass in silence. Just the bounce of the ball and me trying to keep my shit together. Every glance in his direction nearly undoes me.
