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Damn. He could imagine what that had done to Phyllis.
“You know that was because of a weakness in him, don’t you? Not because of anything to do with you.”
She finally turned her eyes on him, and Matt almost wished she hadn’t. The sadness there was painful to see. And worse, he wasn’t sure he could make it go away.
“Logically I know that,” she said. “But I still have to wonder—if I’d been different, would I have been able to hold his interest?”
“Not if he was too shallow to know what a treasure he had in you.”
Tears filled her eyes again and Matt wanted to reach over and wipe them away.
“Look at what you do, Phyllis, what a great gift you have. Your friend Tory is just one example. You helped a woman who was on a fast course to hell, and she’s now a happily married woman, and a mother with a loving extended family.”
“Tory did most of that herself. I just listened.”
“And counseled.”
“Maybe.”
After a lifetime of being alone, Matt didn’t really know how to open up, but he owed it to her to try.
“Look what you’ve done for me,” he said, imbued with an unfamiliar and powerful emotion. “When I first met you, I hated myself so much I could hardly look other people in the eye…because I had to spare them what I saw as my tainted presence.” He held her gaze steadily, but the effort it took cost him. “Somehow, without my even realizing it, you gave me back a sense of worth I didn’t know I possessed. You found value in me, and through you I’m now beginning to find it in myself.”
“Anybody you’d let close enough could have done the same.”
“But you,” he said, nodding toward her once, “you were able to meet me where I was and bring me out to where you were. And I know that not just anyone could’ve done that. It took someone with special vision, Phyllis. Someone who could see something I couldn’t see myself.”
She watched him silently for several long minutes, obviously assessing everything he’d said.
“Where did you come from, Matt Sheffield?” she whispered at last, a tremulous smile hovering on her lips.
“I don’t know,” he told her a bit hoarsely. “But I’m glad I ended up here.”
Leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, Phyllis laid her head sideways on her hands, looking over at him. “It would appear that we’re a pretty sorry pair.”
“But a matching one.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“Which is a good thing, because until I know whether or not I have enough trust left inside me to build on, I can’t accept any.”
“Is that enough of an understanding to take me to bed?”
“I thought you’d never ask….”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PHYLLIS WAS UP making breakfast the next morning while Matt showered. They both had to be on campus early for a meeting, but he still had to drive out to his place to change. She’d already showered and was proudly wearing a black skirt she’d had to pin closed beneath the matching red-and-black jacket.
The oatmeal and toast were ready at about the time she heard the water shut off. And while she’d like to have stood there daydreaming, recalling what Matt looked like, imagining that gorgeous body dripping wet from the shower, she had to decide where to put his bowl of oatmeal, instead.
Setting a place at the table seemed like such a commitment. Yet didn’t leaving his bowl on the counter, where he usually ate, mean they were taking a step backward?
Unable to make a decision and hating the fact that she was thrown off course by such an inconsequential thing, Phyllis finally left the bowl empty by the pan of oatmeal.
Let him decide.
With damp hair, but completely dressed, including his leather lace-up shoes, Matt joined her in the kitchen.
