Page 24 of To Believe In You
I was a fool to deny that I needed to change. When I lost you, my life lost meaning. I hit rock bottom and have been rebuilding ever since. Is there any way I can make things right between us? Can you ever forgive me?
He’d said all the right things. Every sentiment she’d hoped he’d express back when she’d confronted him about the money. But what good would a more sincere apology have done? Trust had been shattered between them, and even if she’d believed his remorse in the moment, she wouldn’t have had the confidence to marry him. She might’ve gotten closure sooner, though.
What did he want now? His hope of making things right was vague. He might want anything from a final, grace-filled conversation to another shot at a relationship to … to The Captain’s Vista.
He had the connections to find a developer for Dad, and for facilitating the sale of the valuable property, Shane would receive a hefty commission.
“Who died?” Matt—where had he materialized from?—stood beside her desk, arms crossed.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, not realizing she swayed with the movement until the corner of her desk stabbed into her arm. She blinked a few times, flipped the phone face down, and pasted on a smile. “No one. Nothing. It’s fine.”
He motioned as if to circle her fake composure. “That’s creepy.” Without waiting for her response, he turned away to hang his sweatshirt on a hook.
Lina took the moment away from his assessing gaze to gulp and gather her wits. “Your lesson isn’t here yet.” If only her voice would’ve cooperated with her attempt to act natural. Instead, the scratchiness was a dead giveaway for excess emotion.
Matt glanced at the waiting room again, expression still dubious. He studied her once more, then continued to the coffee maker in the corner.
Why had she been eager for him to arrive? Oh, right. Bailey.
After Matt scared off the boys on Friday, Lina had delivered the little girl to Samantha. She’d then found Isabella by Tim and congratulated her on a job well done. Matt walked up around the same time, expression grim, but he gave no indication of what had happened before they all parted ways.
Hopefully the boys had faced consequences. If they learned they could get away with bullying, they’d rack up years’ worth of victims.
Had Shane been a bully as a kid?
And what was he now?
She focused on Matt. “Did you find the boys at the play?”
He stabbed the button to brew a large cup of coffee. “Cowering behind their parents.”
“And?”
As if he’d recognized the hope in her voice, he glanced at her before he turned his attention to the pan of millionaire’s shortbread she’d left beside the coffee maker. “Their sons would never do such a thing.”
Lina scoffed, her indignation nearly choking her. “I bet there was a footprint on the tail to prove otherwise.”
He took a big bite of one of the dessert bars. The caramel-and-chocolate topping must’ve been stickier than he’d expected because he took a minute to swallow before continuing. “Whole thing makes me glad I don’t have kids. How do you defend a kid when you’re supposed to be a civil adult and the parents are in denial?”
“I was sort of hoping you hadn’t been a civil adult.”
He cut her a longer glance, his eyes crinkling with the start of a smile. The coffee machine beeped, and he finished off the bar in one more oversized bite. He tried speaking, took a sip of coffee, then started again. “Who brought those?”
Lina lifted two fingers, indicating herself. She’d reduced the size of the meals she’d been making and hadn’t needed to bring in leftovers since the soup, but she’d needed to focus her energy on something besides Shane, the bullies, and Matt, so she’d baked the dessert. What should she have done? Made one-twelfth of the recipe?
“They’re really good.” He reached for another, but the door opened and in stepped a twelve-year-old, no adult in tow. Abandoning the sweets, he took his coffee and met the new arrival. “Hey, man. I’m Matt. Are you Chris?”
Nodding, the kid scanned him from arms to face, clearly in awe.
He extended his free hand. When Chris tentatively reached back, he walked the boy through a complicated handshake. Matt ended with a motion and a noise to mimic an explosion, which Chris imitated a second later.
This friendly, good-with-kids instructor was another version of the man she’d never seen before. How much could a person change in two years? It actually seemed like a shame he didn’t want kids.
Laughing good-naturedly at the clumsy handshake, Matt motioned for Chris to follow him. “You’ll get it.”
They settled in one of the practice rooms, and Lina watched as Matt listened intently to the first words his student uttered. He nodded as if Chris had told him something important, then turned to grab one of the bass guitars already set up in the classroom. As he did, his line of sight caught on Lina.
Heat rushed her cheeks, and she zipped her gaze away. Had she really been admiring Matt Visser?
