Fighting for Love (Second Chances #4)(9)
“Oh, of course,” he agreed. “And yes, my client should be here soon. He wasn’t far behind me when he called to say he was on his way.” Garrett pulled out a briefcase from under the table and removed a file he had stashed inside. Handing it to me, he said, “This is all the information on where we will be for the next month. I know Mr. Winters said he also wanted to cover the Golden State Tour, so I have the fight schedule in here as well, in case you want to attend. I’ll make sure you have front row seats to all of them.”
The moment he said Golden State Tour my heart completely stalled in my chest and I could feel my face paling with each passing second. With my head tilted down, I opened the file and stared at it in a frozen stupor. I knew what the Golden State Tour was, and now I knew why Garrett’s name sounded so awfully familiar.
How can this be happening? I wanted to scream. Please, tell me it isn’t so.
The pounding of my heart grew louder and a sheen of sweat started to form above my brow. Shifting in my chair, I gazed down at the opened file … and right there in front of me was the solid proof staring me in the face.
Matt Reynolds.
It was his practice and fighting schedule, along with photo shoots and various promotional events he had to attend. I already knew his fighting schedule because I’d kept up with how he was doing ever since I left him. Yes, it was kind of lame that I followed his every move, but I couldn’t seem to let go. I was so proud of him when he landed his first fight, and then his second, and so forth. Eventually, his name started to spread and I watched him achieve something I knew he’d worked so hard to accomplish. I knew he had a passion for wrestling and boxing, but I never thought he would go as far as to join MMA fighting. He started all of that up after I left him.
There were a lot of things he began after I left him. I went to almost all of his fights until it got to the point where I couldn’t handle it anymore. It wasn’t the fighting that made me sick to the core, but the countless women I’d see going in and out of his room afterwards. He was known as the ultimate UFC bad boy, the one the ladies loved to tangle and grapple beneath the sheets with … and that was meant to be taken literally. Matt wasn’t the same guy I knew before.
Being a strong willed person was one of my virtues, and I’d handled many hard tasks in my lifetime. However, spending a month with Matt and following him around to get his story was something I didn’t think I could do. Fighting back the tears, I swallowed hard and shut the file slowly, trying my best to hide the tension and keep the bile from rising in my throat.
Holy shit, I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate. Garrett had said Matt was on his way, and if he was almost to the restaurant I needed to get the hell out of there.
“Shelby, are you all right? You’re looking a little pale over there,” Garrett asked, concern clear in his voice. Peering up at him, I brushed him off with a wave of my hand and tried my best to smile.
“Oh yeah,” I breathed, trying desperately to keep my hands from shaking. “I haven’t eaten today, so I think my blood sugar might be a little low.” I hesitated for a second, wondering if I should just say I wasn’t feeling good and leave. Deep down, however, there was a part of me that wanted desperately to see Matt again.
Then what? I asked myself. Is he going to smile and say he missed you over the years? You also just started seeing someone!
Okay, so that’s not going to happen. My mind was made up and I chose the coward’s way out. Grabbing my purse from under the table, I immediately stood up and smiled apologetically at Garrett. “I’m sorry, but will you excuse me for just a minute? I’ll be right back.”
Garrett stood and nodded his head. “Yes, of course. Hopefully, Matt will be here by the time you get back.”
I’m not coming back, I wanted to say, but I needed time to think about what I was going to do and how I could get out of writing the article. As fast as I could go, and still look like I wasn’t running for the hills, I rushed to the bathroom and flew into one of the stalls. Tears poured down my cheeks, and it felt like my throat was closing up on me, choking me while my heart ached as if a thousand knives were jabbing into it.
There’s no way I have the strength to see him now. I’m not prepared. I never planned on seeing him face to face ever again. If I did, how would he react? Would he still be angry with me even though it was ten years ago and he’d obviously moved on … many times? Would my feelings for him come roaring back if he touched me like I was afraid they would?
It doesn’t matter. I’m not staying and I’m not doing the article on him. End of story.
Wrapping a heap of toilet paper in my hand, I used it to dab under my eyes and wipe the tears and mascara away. No one was in the bathroom, so I left the stall and checked myself in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. I didn’t want Laura or anyone else at the front to see me running out of the bathroom with tears streaming down my face. As soon as I made it out of the restaurant and into my car, I was going to call Bryan and tell him he needed to find someone else to do the spread. If I had to explain to him what happened with Matt ten years ago that was fine with me. I would do anything to get out of writing the article.
Taking a deep breath, I calmly opened the bathroom door and started straight for the exit. I was almost there when I heard my name being called behind me, “Shelby, are you going to be all right? Where are you going?”