Maybe Matt's Miracle(10)

She nods, still worrying that lower lip. Her cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are bright.

I don’t know the right way to respond, so instead I bend down and kiss her cheek. I linger, letting her breath blow across my shoulder as I take in the scent of her. It’s clean and girly with a hint of citrus and so damn breathtaking that I can barely stop sniffing her. I take one last inhale and whisper, “I did it because I like you.” She shivers lightly, and I see the hair on her arms stand up. I force myself to walk away. It takes everything I have in me not to turn around and look at her again. But I don’t. I keep walking.



###



I let myself into our apartment and stop short when I see someone sitting on the couch talking to Paul. My brother gets up, looking uncomfortable as hell. “Look who dropped by,” Paul says, pointing toward our guest. My euphoria ends immediately. All the good thoughts I had when I left Sky are suddenly dashed against the wall that is treachery and deceit.

His name is Kenneth, and he used to be my best friend. Right up until the moment that he f*cked my fiancée, April. “Ken,” I bite out. “What the f*ck are you doing here?” I ask.

Paul gets between us, like he could keep me off him if I really wanted a piece of him. Not hardly.

“Well,” Ken says. “I…um…I was hoping we could talk.” He looks toward Paul like he doesn’t want to say anything in front of him.

Paul steps up beside me. “Do you want me to leave?”

I shrug. I can kick Ken’s ass just as well with him in the room as I can with him out of it. “Do whatever you want,” I say. I reach into the fridge and take out a beer, pop the top by resting it on the edge of the counter and slamming it. Then I flick the metal top toward the trash can. “Score,” I whisper to the room as it shoots inside.

I go over to the couch and plop down on it, resting my feet on the coffee table as I start to channel surf.

“Call me if you need me,” Paul says, and then he disappears into his room. Like I’d have to call him. He’s going to have his ear glued to the door until Ken leaves.

Ken sits down on the couch across the room, his ass perched on the edge. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans toward me.

“Why are you here, Ken?” I ask. He may as well tell me so we can get this uncomfortable meeting over and done with.

“Well,” he says. He stops and scratches the back of his head, running his hand up and down over and over. His discomfort makes me feel a little better about the whole situation, actually. I let him stew. “I wanted to tell you about the wedding,” he says slowly, enunciating carefully.

I pretend nonchalance, although I feel anything but. “Who’s getting married?” I ask.

He had better f*cking not say him and April.

“Well, I asked April to marry me,” he blurts out, looking even worse than a moment ago. He winces like he’s afraid I’ll hit him. Hell, I still might.

“Congratulations,” I deadpan. I try not to put any feeling into my voice all because if I did, I would be yelling and screaming and crying out like a wounded bear because I feel like someone just shoved a red-hot poker in my gut.

“I wanted to be the first to tell you,” he says. “Considering the situation.” He wrings his hands together.

“Considering the fact that you f*cked my girlfriend,” I say then take the last swallow of my beer. That one might go to my head since I drank it so fast. But I really don’t care.

“S-she was h-hurting,” he stutters. “After your diagnosis and all, you know?” He looks at me like he’s waiting for confirmation. I’ll confirm that he’s an ass. A lying, cheating, no-good, lame-ass best friend. “We kind of just fell together.”

“You tripped and fell right in her *, did you?” He holds up a hand and starts to stutter, but I keep on talking, as though I don’t care. “I completely understand. Happened to me a time or two. Probably the same nights it happened to you.” I snort.

“Matt,” he says. “I know I’ve told you I’m sorry before, but please know that we didn’t intend for this to happen. We never wanted to hurt you.”

I was hurt for a while, but now I’m beyond that. Pissed is a much better color on me than hurt. “How many times do you want me to congratulate you?” I ask.

He sighs. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else,” he says. “I handled things poorly, but I still have the utmost respect for you as a friend.”

“Thanks,” I bite out.

“Hey, I hear that you’re in remission,” he says. He smiles as if he’s happy for me. “I’m so glad you’re doing well.”

“Thanks,” I grunt. Apparently, I have turned into a caveman. A caveman who doesn’t give a f*ck.

He gets to his feet. “Well, I should probably go.” He reaches out a hand toward me. It hangs there in the air between us until he finally gets the hint that I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-f*cking-foot pole.

“When’s the wedding?” I ask as I stand up, too. I’m a glutton for punishment, apparently.

“Next weekend,” he says.

I lift my brow and snort. “That soon, huh? You must have been planning for a while.”

He starts to scratch the back of his head again. “Um…not really. Well, we were planning it, but we decided to move the date up. Um…” He looks into my eyes like he’s hoping to soften the blow. “April’s pregnant.”