Page 85 of When We Were More
“Shut the fuck up, man. It’s not the same.” My jaw clenches.
“Oh, it’s serious with Tillie then? More than friends?”
I catch on now that he’s baiting me, trying to get me to admit that Matilda is more than just a friend. To say it’s something it’s not. She made it clear there was no room for bending on that.
Then something strikes me. Harrison speaks about Matilda in a way that suggests he knows her other than from that one time they met at the restaurant. I narrow my eyes at him.
Harrison resumes eating. This conversation isn’t over, even if he thinks it is.
“You’ve only met Matilda once, right?”
He takes a leisurely drink of his wine. Kira says my name, trying to get my attention, but I ignore her. It registers that she resorts to touching me, resting her hand on my forearm, but I’m too focused on Harrison to pay it too much attention.
“Right?”
“No.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I’ve met her several times. Not that it’s any of your business.”
What the hell? Harrison and I rarely get into disagreements, but one is brewing.
I peer across the room at Matilda, and she’s looking at me. Or maybe at Kira. It’s hard to tell. I follow her gaze as I try to figure it out, and that’s when I notice Kira’s hand isstillon my forearm, loosely holding onto it. I glance back up at Matilda, and this time it’s clear she’s watching me. She’s frowning, then she turns her head and focuses on Jake. There’s no question Matilda saw Kira touching me. I use my free hand to remove Kira’s from my arm and shoot her a dirty glare before turning back to Harrison.
“Quit screwing with me.”
A deep sigh escapes my brother, then he turns his upper body to look at me.
“I’ve met her several times because I’m doing some legal work to help get her business set up. Which, if she wanted you to know, I assume she’d have told you.”
Now I’m irritated. Matilda is letting him be a part of her business venture’s success, but refused to let me help when I tried. I was asking simple questions to make sure she had all the correct registrations and licenses, and she shut me down. Said this was hers to do on her own. Well, with Shannon.
“She’s a good person, Henry. So, if you can’t get your head out of your ass and figure out whatever has been going on with you lately, then leave her alone. The woman has been through some pain in her life and doesn’t need more.”
I stare at him, needing a minute to process whatever emotions these are flying around in my head. I’m shocked that my quiet, reserved brother just called me out on my shit, even if he has it backward.
“How do you know she has pain?” It comes out almost a whisper. The concern in my voice is evident.
Harrison’s eyes bore into mine, as if he’s searching for some answer there.
“How do younotknow? I recognize it in her eyes, Henry. I’ve seen it staring back at me in the mirror, and I’ve seen it in you.” He shakes his head at me and stands. “I need a drink.”
I sit there, staring at my dinner plate, ignoring the surrounding conversation. Then, a tap on my shoulder gets my attention, and when I turn to see who it is, Hayden is standing next to me. I see it now. Pain. The sadness in Hayden’s eyes is exactly what Harrison was talking about. Only I’ve failed to see it in Matilda, even though I now realize it was there all along.
“C’mon. Let’s go get a drink.”
I stand and follow Hayden to the bar, then right back to the table he was sitting at before. We don’t talk. We sit with our thoughts. I realize I’ve been a self-centered prick to a womanwho is supposed to be my friend. Who is much more than that. She needed time to digest everything I confessed to her about my feelings, and I’ve been a brat about it. So, I’m searching for the answer to what I should do about that at the bottom of a glass.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but our table is littered with empty glasses when Holden walks up. He shakes his head at me, a disgusted expression on his face. I glance across the table at Hayden, who’s leaning against the wall next to him, staring intoanotherdrink. Hell, I guess I did fail to keep an eye out for him.
But with three empty drink glasses and two shots in front of me, I’m not surprised.
“I’ve got him now. Go… go wash your face and pull yourself together. You look like a drunk slob, man.”
I stand and walk away. But I don’t go to the restroom to wash my face, like Holden suggested. No, whiskey fuels me, and I head right to Matilda’s table, where Jake is monopolizing her time and conversation.
CHAPTER 32
