The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(105)

BACK AT MY APARTMENT A FEW HOURS later, when the Black Widows and I have nailed down a tentative plan, I call Matt DeSalvo and apologize again. “I’m so sorry about this,” I tell him. “I’m not trying to drive you crazy, I promise.”

“Oh, I know,” he says. He pauses a minute or two. “All right, I think we can work it out. I’m glad. Sounds like you’re really happy with the decision, Lucy.”

“Thanks, Matt. I am,” I say. Fat Mikey begins clawing the back of my couch, signaling his displeasure with my lack of worshipfulness. I rub his nose with my index finger, and he forgives me, emitting his rusty, diesel engine purr. “I hope I didn’t completely screw up your day,” I tell Matt.

“Not at all. You’re a challenge, that’s all.” He seems to realize that sounds less than flattering. “I meant, getting your bread is a challenge. Well worth it, though.”

My eyes find the wedding picture on the wall: Jimmy and me, laughing. So happy. So long ago.

“Matt,” I say slowly. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

A FEW NIGHTS LATER, MATT PICKS me up at the Boatworks. I wait in the foyer, looking for his solid Volvo. It’s pouring rain, the noise drumming the Herreshoff above the door. Great night to stay home with a movie. Like I used to do with Ethan. Speaking of Ethan, I haven’t seen him lately—he had another business trip, apparently—but that’s okay. That part of my heart seems to have turned to stone, which is a far cry better than the open, ragged gash it was in the hospital.

Then Matt’s headlights flash as he turns around the corner, and I run out and jump into his car.

The date is everything I’ve hoped for. Very pleasant. We start with a movie, a political thriller with lots of explosions, just what I love. Then comes a somewhat mediocre dinner at a chain Italian restaurant—if my father-in-law knew I was eating here, he would’ve clutched his heart and died on the spot. I order lasagna, Matt gets spaghetti and meatballs.

“I have to say,” Matt says, “I’m really glad you asked me out.” He grins, and I feel a little tug. Not a big one, not a wave…but something. That’s good. If I wanted nothing, I’d be married to Charley Spirito.

“Me, too,” I say.

“Is it strange, being with someone who looks like your husband?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. “I mean, at first glance, sure, you do look like him. But don’t worry, I can tell the difference.” He was the real deal, you’re Jimmy-Lite.

“How did you meet him?”

I pause.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says instantly, covering my hand with his own. “It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” I answer, extricating my hand and taking a sip of water. “Ethan set us up.”

Matt pauses. “I guess things didn’t work out there,” he says delicately.

A razor-thin slice of pain cuts across my heart. “No, it didn’t work out.”

“Is he doing okay? After the accident and all?”

“He’s great,” I say smoothly, though I find I have to swallow twice. “What about you? Ever been married?”

Matt tells me about his brief marriage when he was twenty-six, ending in an amicable divorce when he was twenty-eight. Talk turns to business, inevitably. “Have you hired someone to take over the bread?” he asks.

“Not yet,” I say. “I put an ad out this morning, though. Craigslist, the newspaper.”

“Great,” he says. “We want to get cracking on this.”

I cover a yawn. “I should probably get back,” I tell him. “Four a.m. comes pretty early.”

Matt pays the bill and we drive home in the rain, not talking much.

I sneak peeks at his profile…he does look like Jimmy, though the initial shock has faded. He’s been awfully nice about the bread deal. I decide I feel fond of him. And hey, fond is underrated. Fond can last a lifetime. Fond doesn’t leave scars.

My heart twists a little…for a second, that lovely coating of numbness that’s been sheltering me these past few weeks lifts, and I miss Ethan so much I can barely breathe.

You can’t have everything. Ethan himself told me that. He was right. It will hurt him to have me move on with someone else, but I was hurting him when we were together, too. And I can’t be with Ethan. He deserves someone who can love him with her whole heart, and damn it all to hell, that’s not me. I had my heart broken once…no. Shattered. Destroyed. Ground into a bloody smear on the sidewalk, and it hurt so much I wondered that I didn’t die from it. I just can’t do that again.

Reminding myself to breathe again, I unclench my fists and stare ahead through the rain-smeared windshield.

Matt pulls up in front of the Boatworks. “Let me walk you to the door,” he says. I look at him. Matt here will take me or leave me. He didn’t know me before Jimmy died. He won’t know what he’s missing. He won’t want more.

“Sure,” I answer.

The rain blows in gusts, and we rush to the shelter of the doorway, the old Herreshoff providing a little shelter from the weather. I can’t wait to be upstairs, safe and alone.

“I had a really nice time,” Matt says.

“Oh, me, too,” I answer. It’s not that untrue. “Thanks for a lovely evening.”