Page 80 of Half-Court Heat
Mathilde looked up from her phone, her expression unreadable at first. Her lips pursed as she watched me. “You’re mad.”
“What tipped you off?” I ran a frustrated hand through my hair.
Mathilde’s expression softened. She sat up straighter and set her phone aside. “You know Eva’s not playing you like that.”
I started pacing the room again. “It’s not about me being ‘played.’ It’s about the lack of respect. Eva’s hurt, on painkillers, and here comes Kate, back in her life like nothing’s changed. It’sdisrespectful.”
Mathilde crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Eva’s hurt. She’s not in a place where she can deal with any of this right now. It’s not about you, Lex.”
I stopped pacing and looked at her. “So, I’m supposed to just let Kate walk all over me like this?”
Mathilde sighed. “This girl doesn’t have anything over you. She’s an ex. She doesn’t get to dictate who’s in Eva’s life now.You’rein her life. That’s what matters.”
I felt the knot in my chest loosen a little, but the frustration still clung to me, stubborn and hard. “I know. But it just ... it pisses me off. The whole thing. The way Kate acts like nothing’s changed. Eva’s not hers anymore,” I fumed, “and I’m not justsome personshe’s messing with.”
Mathilde gave me a long look, her gaze sharp but understanding. “Kate’s a problem for you, sure, but Eva’s not playing games. She’s injured. She’s not thinking about anything beyond her recovery right now. You need to trust that she chose you. Trust that, and let the rest go.”
I nodded slowly, even if it didn’t feel like something I could do just yet. My heart still felt heavy with the unresolved tension, and the knot in my stomach wouldn’t loosen.
Mathilde shifted to sit up, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, enough of this. I’ve got snacks. Let’s distract you.”
I managed a small laugh. “You really think that’s going to make me feel better?”
“Trust me,” Mathilde said with a grin, “it’s the only thing that works. But I’m picking the movie. You’re just along for the ride.”
I wrinkled my nose, but felt a little lighter despite myself. “Let me guess—something with subtitles.”
Mathilde turned on the TV, and snacks were procured from the kitchen. I slowly began to lose myself to the mindless distraction that only a good movie can provide. But even as the scenes flickered on the screen, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my heart was tied to something complicated—and I didn’t know how to untangle it.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
The following afternoon, I rang the Montgomerys’ doorbell with a pint of Rocky Road ice cream sweating through a paper bag.
Eva had sounded tired but receptive on the phone that morning—still in a haze of pain meds, still cranky about her limited range of motion. I promised to swing by after lunch, provide her with some company and junk food, and watch an episode or two of whatever murder-y docuseries she’d picked out. It was my last day in Boston before my flight back to Miami later that evening, and I wanted to spend as much time with her.
The front door opened before I could knock again.
“Oh! Hello, Alexandra.” Mrs. Montgomery looked like she’d just stepped out of a Talbots catalog—buttoned cardigan, flawless blowout, pearls around her neck. “Eva’s in the sunroom. She has a visitor.”
I blinked. “A visitor?”
She didn’t elaborate. She stepped aside and let me in, her eyes falling to the bag in my hand. “That’s not more sugar, is it?” she clucked. “I’m trying to keep her diet anti-inflammatory.”
I offered a sheepish smile. “It’s ice cream for morale.”
Mrs. Montgomery gave me a knowing look before leading me through the elegant, artfully decorated living room and down a short hall to glass-paned double doors.
She’d called it a sunroom, but the glass-encased space looked nothing like the three-season rooms I was accustomed to in the Midwest. The Montgomerys’ sunroom looked like something out of a glossy lifestyle magazine—white-painted wicker furniture with navy cushions, an expensive-looking rug layered over heated tile floors, and potted evergreens in the corners. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the pale winter light; the view outside revealed snow-dusted hedges and leafless oak trees.
Eva sat at a small table near the windows, her leg propped on a second chair. She wore glasses instead of contacts and sipped lemonade from a tall, skinny glass like it was champagne.
Sitting next to her, lounging like she’d never left, was Kate Gillespie.
I froze mid-step.
Kate looked up and smiled. “Hey, Lex.”
