Page 80 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

Izabel yanked her bag over her shoulder. “For starters, you could have not overreacted, and second, you could have been polite to a guy who has been super helpful today in sharing some of his contacts with me for the concert.” She headed for the van.

“For fuck’s sake,” she heard Matt grumble as he jogged after her. “Izabel, wait.”

She stopped short and turned around. “What for? Are you going to say anything that makes sense?”

“Fuck. I saw the guy flirting with you and you standing there like you want him to.”

“Let’s talk about how your total and utter lack of trust in me is insulting. You think because a decent guy put his hand on my arm, it means something. You perform every night in front of screaming hordes of women who you let wrap their arms around you to take selfies, you sign their bodies. And I have never once asked you to stop because I. Trust. You.” She jabbed her finger into his chest and ignored the look of complete shock on his face.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. It’s ... It was ... Fuck. I didn’t like seeing some other guy flirt with my girlfriend.”

“Stop being a possessive jerk. And you know what I would have loved to say to Joe. ‘Hey Joe, this is my boyfriend, Matt.’ Or, perhaps, ‘Hey Joe, just to clear things up, I have a boyfriend.’ But I can’t. You have all the control here.”

“Please, Izabel. Listen.”

Izabel hugged her arms around her middle. “I can’t, Matt. I’m going with Joe to focus on brainstorming for the fundraiser. Then I’m going to go home, sleep on this, figure out what I want and need. Perhaps a guy who doesn’t want me to be his hidden secret because he’s scared of being seen with me. I think you should do the same.” She turned and walked away.

“Izabel, please, sweetheart. Let’s talk this through.”

“For once, I’m dealing with conflict. We both need some time to figure out what we want. I’ve been willing to go along with how you wanted this to go, but I don’t see any movement on your part.”

Matt cupped her cheeks and shocked her by kissing her forehead in sight of Joe. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered, before climbing into Joe’s van.

“You okay?” Joe asked.

“Yeah. I will be.”

* * *

Four hours, at least six pints, and an unverified number of single malts later, Matt stepped off the bus. No amount of alcohol had banished the treacherous thoughts of what Iz was doing with Joe. His gut said trust her—hell, so did his heart. But the hamster wheel in his head was spinning full tilt. The idea of going home to sleep in a bed that still smelled of Izabel was more than he could deal with. And there was only one other place he could go when he felt as shitty as he did.

Using his key, he let himself into his nan’s dark living room. Tripping over the step, he reached for something to break his fall. With a crash, the tall vase holding her impressive umbrella collection clattered over.

“Fuck me,” he grunted as he hit the floor, his feet still hanging out of the front door.

“Who is it?” she shouted from up the stairs as a light flashed on. “I’m calling the police.”

“Nan. It’s me.”

“Jesus, Mary, and the fucking baby Jesus,” she cursed. He could hear her footsteps long before she appeared at the bottom of the stairs in her dressing gown. “You just shaved five years off my life, Matthew Palmer. And get yourself up off my floor so I can close the door. Nosey Ken across the street is probably already twitching at his lace curtains to see what all the fuss is about.”

Matt crawled up onto his knees, and then, using the arm of the sofa for leverage, pulled himself to his feet. The room tilted before he could look at his nan. “Sorry,” he said. “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

All the annoyance shifted from his nan’s face as she stepped closer and put her hand on his cheeks. “Ah, well. You’ve come to the right place. Let’s get some food inside you before you go to bed.”

He followed her unsteadily into the kitchen as she began to flutter around. The kettle went on with a click. The frying pan hit the gas stove with a clang. The scent of bacon and toast filled the air.

She placed a mug of tea and a glass of water next to his elbow. “Take two of these to stop the headache.”

He didn’t ask what the white pills were, he just took them with half the glass of water. “Thanks, Nan.”

When the plate of food was finally in front of him, his nan took the other chair at the two-seater table. “What happened?”

“I fucked everything up, Nan. And I don’t even know how I did it.”

His nan picked up her tea and took a sip as he bit into his bacon sandwich, with extra HP sauce, just the way he liked it.

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