Page 76 of The Other Room

One thing I knew for sure, Matt wasn’t my father. When my father had left, it had been Matt who’d been there for me. He’d always been there for me, without fail. And as hard as it was for me to trust, if there was one man on this planet that deserved the honor, it was Matt.

Instead of picturing him with his tongue down Nikki’s throat, I tried to flood my mind with images of his tongue in my mouth instead. And his hands on my body. And the sound of his voice whispering “I love you” into my ear over and over again.

Finally, I started to see past the hurt she’d brought with her, and my excitement to see him tonight grew.

The voice in my head warning me to bail quieted down, and I felt my rage and fear quieting along with it.

I didn’t want to pull the ripcord this time. This time, with Matt, I wanted to free fall. To throw away all my fears and trust he would catch me before I hit the ground. This time I wanted to trust that Matt would be my safe landing.

I took a deep breath and exhaled the rest of my anxiety. In two hours I’d see him again, and I knew the moment I was back in his arms, I’d be okay again. Tonight was about us. Me and Matt. And to hell if Nikki’s appearance was going to put a damper on our first date... a night I’d spent my whole life dreaming about.

Too stubborn to let her win, I forced the last vision of them out of my head. Glancing at the clock, I went back to counting the minutes until I got to see him again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MATT

––––––––

“Another?” DJ, the bartender at Stabbur, asked.

I glanced at my cellphone. Jo should be off any minute.

“Sure, and can I get a Malmo Mule for Jo?”

“You got it.” DJ smiled and hurried off.

After a day in the summer heat sweating up a storm while I worked on our cabin, I welcomed the cool breeze blowing off the lake across the street. One of my favorite things about moving to Sister Bay were all the open-air bars and restaurants, and Stabbur Beer Garden was no exception. The outdoor bar across from the Sister Bay beach, and right next to Al Johnson’s Swedish Restaurant, provided the perfect place to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air. Living in Wisconsin meant spending large chunks of the year trapped indoors hiding from the cold weather. So, when summer hit, I spent as much time outside as I could. Stabbur was the perfect place to unwind tonight, enjoying the beautiful weather and good cocktails that helped to ease the ache of missing Jo.

And the nerves about our first date.

I’m going on a date with Jo.

It felt surreal. Too good to be true. I mean, I’d spent all morning testing ways to ensure I really was awake, and this wasn’t a super vivid dream, but I still wasn’t convinced yet. Between hearing Jo say, “I love you, too”, and getting a job offer all in one day, I began to wonder if I’d hit my head working on the cabin yesterday and maybe I was stuck in a coma in the hospital in a perpetual dream I may never wake up from.

Not that I’d want to.

If being in a coma meant an imagined and realistic life with Jo at my side, then I’d take a coma any day.

“Here you go,” DJ said, dropping off our two drinks.

This coma even came with drinks.

“Put it on your tab?” he asked.

Damn it. I still had to pay for drinks in my coma. “That would be awesome.”

Another customer flagged him away, and I put Jo’s drink in front of the stool next to mine. The bar was filling up, and I’d promised to save her a seat. If there was one thing I intended to do from this day forward, it was to never let her down. Never give her a single reason to doubt me like I knew she eventually would. I’d give her no ammo to blow apart this relationship and bolt off like she’d done with every other guy in the past.

Fear gripped me when I envisioned her “pulling a Jo” as I used to call it. The minute things got serious, she searched for an out. For any excuse to bail. And for Jo and me, we’d hit serious in less than twelve hours. A record time for my gun-shy girl. Hell, a record time for me. Normally it took her months to inch her way deeper and deeper into a relationship. Months to even refer to a man as a boyfriend. And it was always then when she’d slam on the brakes and bail.

Like clockwork.

While I’d always been there to catch her when she’d whipped open the emergency exit and leapt out, I’d also always been secretly thrilled she was single again. It was torture seeing her with someone else. But now, this time, I was the man driving the relationship train, and my stomach twisted in knots thinking it may be our train she would derail next.

She won’t, I thought, trying to calm the anxiety rising with the thought of losing her.

She won’t because this time it’s us. This time it’s different.