Page 71 of Positively, Penelope

“Oh, Matthias! Are you all right?”

He stood, rounding the desk to keep it as a barrier between them. He’d already had to come to terms with her dating his brother; the last thing he needed was to feel her in his arms again to make matters ten times worse.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He waved toward the desk. “Just finishing up a few things.”

She studied him, her attention so intent on his face, he wondered if she read his thoughts. He looked away.

“I . . . I just wanted to check in with you.” Instead of stepping back, she moved closer. Why didn’t she take the hint that her nearness only made things harder on him? Not easier. “I thought you were going to bring Iris by yesterday, and when I didn’t see you in church this morning, I thought something must be wrong.” She raised the silver container Iris had insisted they use for Penelope’s cookies. “And I’m returning this.” She wiggled her brows. “With a few strawberry tarts inside.”

His heart was tempted to soften a little to her presence. That dance, her hug... it all initiated an unraveling he hadn’t expected. But his emotions were already frayed from his own frustration over seeing her and Alec together. Now this letter, from out of the blue, tossed his insufficiency and failures back in his face with a greater sting. It would be much too easy to care for Penelope Edgewood. Her passion and generosity made it as easy as breathing. But then she’d break his heart because, in the end, she wouldn’t choose him. She’d leave too.

And he was full up with getting his heart broken by women who chose someone or something else in the end. He wouldn’t put himself or Iris through that.

“Thank you. Just a lot going on with the theater.”

Penelope scanned the room, her teeth skimming over her bottom lip as she tapped her index fingers together in a failed attempt at disinterest. She wasn’t taking the hint. At all. And he needed her to. His heart needed her to.

“And your ex-wife?”

His gaze shot to hers. “How did you—” His shoulders sank. “Gwynn.”

“She let me in. Said you’d gotten a pretty disheartening letter.”

“Infuriating, more like. Deirdre hasn’t contacted us in three years, and she sends a letter now without even asking about Iris. No mention. It’s unfathomable.”

With incomprehensible speed, she slipped around the desk, nearenough that her scent wafted through the distance between them, teasing him with impossibilities. He stiffened against the hope, the desire. Why couldn’t she just leave him be?

“I’m so sorry, Matthias.” She rested a palm against his arm. “So sorry for your broken heart. I can’t understand how any woman would ever choose to leave a life as wonderful as one filled with you and Iris. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Old insecurities resurfaced, nearly choking him. Her compassion burned like salt in his reopened wounds, teasing something he couldn’t have... couldn’t risk.

“Life isn’t all fairy tales and show tunes for everyone, is it?”

Her brow pinched as she looked up at him, clearly unintimidated by the ire in his voice. “Actually, I’ve always drawn strength from fairy tales and show tunes because even after the broken hearts, there’s always something else that brings a happily ever after most times. The ‘Climb Every Mountain’ moment. The chance to dream again, if we’re willing.” She squeezed his arm. “I know that dreamer still lives in you. I’ve seen him a few times, even. Still hoping for a fairy tale, despite what you say.”

“You don’t understand. How can you?” A harsh laugh rose from his throat. “In your happy little world, people choose to stay and grow old together. But this isn’t a Broadway finale with magic and lights and dancing off into the sunset. This is the dirty, hard, painful actual life of things. The guy doesn’t always get the girl. People walk off the stage, remove their makeup, and step back into the shadows and heartaches of the real world. If someone wants to leave, they leave, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But people also stay.” She held his gaze. “One experience doesn’t dictate every other relationship. The right people choose to stay, even off the stage.”

“And your wealth of experiences makes you an expert on relationships, does it?” Was that his voice? The harsh, hateful sound?

“This again?” A light flashed in her eyes and her jaw tightened. “Just because I’ve not experienced your exact type of pain doesn’t mean I can’t feel for you and pray you find hope again. I see your potential, Matthias.” Her smile flickered to life, despite the steely look in her eyes. “Such amazing potential. There’s a hero tucked away in there, fighting to get out.”

He pulled back from her touch. “You can’t understand.”

“You’re letting her win, you know. Still. When you have the power to change things.” She followed him, not allowing him to retreat. Those eyes intent, focused. All her energy, her hope, battering his wounded heart. “You’ve let your villainous ex-wife keep stealing things from you for years, long after she actually left.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your hope. Your joy. Your belief in love and even—” She shook her head. “She stole your dancing. But I think”—she stood a little taller—“your present difficulty isn’t so much a broken heart as a gratitude problem. You’re focusing on what you don’t have instead of what you do. And you have so much! And you’regoodat so much.”

Her words hit so hard that he flinched. She was right. Painfully right. And he didn’t want to admit it. Another failing. “What... what do you know about it? Nothing. There’s no salvaging what’s happened here, so don’t pretend you understand anything at all, and don’t lecture me from your pious position of wisdom. You can’t write a fairy tale into this situation no matter how hard you try.”

“You’re stronger than this.” She backed away, a glossy sheen filling her eyes. “I know you are. And I’ve seen the flickers of the wonderful, hopeful man you are peeking out from behind the pain. He’s still in there, trying to get out and dance again. Laugh again. What would happen if you actually took hold of a little bit of that fairy tale? The hope, the fight for what is light and beautiful and possible.” Her grin flickered, but the joy had left it. “Maybe even the impossible. I know it would do you good. For you and Iris. Fear rarely leads to a better ending.”

He growled and turned away from her, the truth knifing into all his insecurities and peeling back the pain layer by layer.

“Right,” came her sad response, more distant. “But what would I know?”

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