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She twists her mouth. “Well…”
“I know you want to,” I persist, putting the key in her hand.
Her fingers furl halfway, touching my palm—and they stay there. For the first time I feel her warmth. She then mutters, “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I reply evenly, although the sensation from our hand contact is spurring me to do more than just talk.
In the end, we both withdraw at the same time. But before she completely retracts her hand, I give her my name card. “Just in case,” I say.
She accepts it then raises her eyes to me. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Matty, come on.”
I rest my arm on his shoulder as we stalk off, giving Isabelle a few backward glances while calling for a taxi.
“She looks happy,” Matty comments when our ride arrives.
“Yeah, she’s happy. You’re a good wingman.”
Matty squints at me. “What is that?”
“Like a partner but cooler.”
“What do you mean?” he probes.
“You helped me talk to Isabelle. You helped me make her happy,” I explain. “Just like what you did for Amber and Rob.”
If it wasn’t for him, Rob wouldn’t have met Amber. Following a car crash that killed our parents and seriously injured Matty, the boy had a hard time coping. We all did, but being only six at the time, compounded by his injuries, the loss completely crushed Matty. Amber played a big part in his recovery—and it all started with Matty’s teddy bear.
It's a love story for the ages, and it will be a hard act to follow.
“Oh, that!” Matty seems to have an a-ha moment. “Do you love Isabelle?”
“Maybe, pal.”
Matty looks at the time. “Don’t you have work to do?” The boy is surely keeping me honest.
“Later.”
“You’re lying, Clay!”
“Hey, I’m not!”
“You have time for her but not for me?”
“We’re not going to Disneyland if that’s what you’re thinking. You want me to spend time with you? Fine, I’ll stay with you while you’re doing your homework.”
He flashes me his bunny grin—but this time, it soon turns into a grimace. “Clay…” His voice is almost inaudible.
“What’s the matter?”
“When you marry Isabelle, can I still live with you?”
“Hey… Matty.” I hug him. “Isabelle is just a friend. I’m not marrying her.”
Yet.
I add, “If I get married—whoever she is—you can live with me for as long as you want.”
