“I’m sure,” I say in a way I hope conveys something more along the lines of “That is your opinion, no matter how incorrect it is. Also, kindly jump off a cliff.”
Matty narrows his eyes and scans me, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m close enough to Lachlan to know Claire wasn’t necessarily a good surprise or stupid enough not to have noticed their estrangement. “Right,” he starts, drawing out the word. “Listen, you know Lockie well enough at this point to know that things have been a bit rocky with them, yeah?”
Well, I guess I’m glad he doesn’t think I’m stupid.
He continues. “It’s for sure a rough patch, but Evie and I are confident they can pull through this. They’ve been through worse—they almost didn’t get married, actually, but Evie and I got them back on track.”
The bottom drops out of my chest, and for a moment my heart is in freefall. I pretend to focus intently on my laptop booting up, gripping my mouse to stop my hand from shaking. I muster every ounce of control to keep my voice even. “Really? What happened?”
“He wanted to call it off. Said they were only getting married because they were moving to Madrid. I told him I couldn’t live this life if I didn’t have Evie and the kids waiting for me at home.They keep me focused on what’s important. I told him he needed that stability.”
Maybe he sees the incredulity in my face, because Lord knows I am not able to conceal the gathering rage in my soul that this man, this fucking dipshit, meddled in Lachlan’s life like that. Matty puts his hand on my desk, kicking his intensity up a notch. “It was the right call and I’d do it again. Claire’s really good for him. I know you might not believe that, based on what you’ve heard, but trust me.”
I dig my fingernails into my palms.
“You’ve been such a good friend to him, and I know he’d appreciate your support and space as he works to fix his marriage.”
I nod, because I can’t openly disagree with the team captain, Lachlan’s best friend, a man he’s known for two decades—at least, not within earshot of Charlotte’s office.
“He can’t afford any distractions at the moment,” he says, as if I haven’t gotten the message loud and clear at this point.
That’s it, though. That’s the one that pushes me over the edge. “Yeah, I’d hate to be as distracting as a wife who refuses to live in the same country as him.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop myself—Charlotte’s proximity be damned. I’m so tired of dancing around everything, and I owe Matt Fletcher exactly fuck all.
It turns out that’s it for Matty, too, as he tips straight into Aggro Mode. “You don’t know a thing about it. He loves her.”
“He’s in hell, Matt.”
“And I suppose you want them to break up so thatyoucan be with him?”
My face is red hot, but for once I know it’s from anger, not embarrassment. Who the fuck does he think he is to say that to me in my own office? “That’s unbelievably inappropriate.”
“And yet, you don’t deny it.”
“Sorry, didn’t realize we were in court, Your Honor. Theonlything I want is for Lachlan to be happy.”
“Happiness comes from stability. Every day that he and Claire haven’t figured out their situation is a day his head isn’t fully in the game.”
“I agree.”
“Okay, so you want them to reconcile.”
“I want them to figure out what they are to each other; it’s not my place to say what shape that takes. And frankly, Matt, it’s not yours either.”
At this, he stands up and actually sneers at me. “Mate, I’ve known him since we were kids. I think I’m a little more qualified to push him in a direction than you are.”
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. I need to be sitting alone in a dark room to process all this, not screaming into the boundless void of Matt Fletcher’s ego. “We’re going in circles here. I care about Lachlan, you care about Lachlan. We both want the situation resolved. That’s all that matters.”
“So you’re going to back off?”
“I’m going to continue being a supportive friend.”
He opens his mouth and then closes it, flares his nostrils. I can see the gears turning in his head, and wish he’d just come out and say whatever he’s thinking. Then, to my surprise, he does: “You’re free to do whatever you want, of course. All I’m saying is it would be a shame if all this interfered with your work. I’m sure Charlotte Collins wouldn’t want that to happen.”
There it is. The trump card, the threat of last resort. It’s true, a little shock of fear courses through me when he says this. But more than anything else, I feel pity. I feel sorry for Matt having to watch his friend go through this and be powerless to help. I’msure he’s devastated that he and his wife are losing one of their closest couple friends, the splintering of the little foursome they’ve had for years and years. I understand. Matt and I are not at war with each other, and it does me no good to aggravate him further.
At the same time, I’m done being a pushover.
“You’re free to tell her whatever you want, Matt. But I have a lot of work to do, so if you’ll please leave my office, that’d be great.” I gesture to the door.
