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I frown harder and nudge his thigh under the table. “Which means half of them succeed against all odds. Glass half full. Today is a new, better, half full day.”
Thunder rumbles above us, loud enough to fill the large ballroom and rattle the utensils on our table. Matty arches a “see, the fates are on my side, we’re all doomed” brow my way. Before I can counter with a comment about how much I love staying cozy inside on a rainy day, the retreat coordinator takes the stage.
After a brief welcome speech, he introduces the keynote speaker, a soft-spoken woman who’s been a psychiatrist for decades, and who blows my mind a little with her attachment style chart.
“My last two long-term relationships,” I whisper to Matty as she’s wrapping up. “They both had anxious attachment styles. That’s why they were so jealous and controlling and why Shane had a panic attack every time I went to Chicago for business meetings.”
Matty nods. “Same. My only long-term girlfriend threatened to hurt herself if I didn’t start letting her come along on my weekend business trips. Obviously, I couldn’t do that most of the time, so I had to end things.”
My lips turn down. “I’m sorry. That’s hard.”
“It’s okay. It’s the life I chose when I was recruited in high school. I knew there were sacrifices involved.”
“But you were so young,” I say. “You didn’t understand what you were doing. I mean, yes, intellectually maybe, but not in reality. Your pre-frontal lobe wasn’t even fully developed at eighteen.”
“Fourteen,” he corrects, smiling when I gasp. “That’s when I was recruited, anyway, though at first it was all very hush, hush, backdoor stuff. I had to wait to sign the employment paperwork and become an official officer until I was legally an adult.”
I frown and huff. “Still doesn’t seem kosher to me, or legal, but what do I know? I’m just a miraculously well-adjusted adult with a secure attachment style despite the tumult of my early childhood.”
He grins as he murmurs, “You’re a unicorn. No doubt about it.”
“What about you?” I ask, absurdly pleased to be called a unicorn. “What’s your attachment style? Avoidant, I’m guessing? Or is it just me?”
He shrugs, a vulnerable look in his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve been pretending to be someone I’m not for so long, I’m not sure who I really am. It’s something I’m hoping to work on while I’m away. Maybe, if I can get some time—”
He breaks off, pausing to applaud with the rest of the room as the doctor ends her talk and leaves the stage, before turning back to me. “Should we make a break for the bathrooms and skip the love language test? Since you’re absolutely good enough and smart enough and prettier than any Hollywood actress ever born, I would prefer not to engage in this bullshit.”
I melt a little inside. “You remembered.”
“I looked up those people on my phone last night,” he adds as he scoots his chair back. “They don’t hold a candle to you.”
Full goo state unlocked, I scoot my chair back with him, letting him take my hand and lead me out the side door just as the tests are being distributed.
Once outside, we break into a jog, rushing down the hallway and cutting to the left, heading toward the gym and indoor pool. I meet Matty’s gaze to find him grinning and my heart lifts.
This just feels…so right. To be hand in hand with him. And I’m really looking forward to a little stolen time alone together.
But as we near the end of the hall, a man with thinning hair and a dark brown dress shirt steps out of one of the smaller conference rooms. He lifts his hand to us in greeting. “There you are!” he calls out in a Southern twang. “Lisa said she’d be sending a few couples ahead to get started on the small groups early. We don’t want anyone to miss out on the one-on-one coaching. I appreciate you skipping part of the programming for the greater good.” He grins as he takes in our clasped hands. “And looks like you two are reaping the benefits of our weekend together already. I’m Patrick Marsden, by the way.” He extends his hand. “You are?”
“Charles Sturbridge,” Matty says, taking Patrick’s thicker, furrier hand and giving it a firm pump before motioning my way. “And this is Kitty.”
“His wife,” I say, with a goofy grin, because dammit…it’s fun to say. It’s fun to be someone’s forever, even if it’s just pretend.
I take Patrick’s hand, which is warm and dry and clings to mine far longer than it did to Matty’s.
His smile is also much warmer as he says, “So nice to meet you, Kitty,” and nods toward the room behind him. “Shall we? We can get started with just the two of you, and if another couple joins us, we’ll pause wherever we are and fill them in on the protocol. Just remember, you have nothing to be embarrassed about here, not with me or with the other attendees. We’re all here to grow and learn and share.” His grin widens, showcasing thick white teeth as he continues to clutch my hand. “And save marriages. That’s the point, right?”
“It sure is, Patrick,” Matty says, clapping the other man on the back as he inserts himself between us, severing the now oddly prolonged hand clasp. “Can’t wait to get started.” He casts a wide-eyed look at me over his shoulder and mouths, “Handsy much?” making me fight a laugh.
Instantly, I decide I can’t go with the alternative “trauma,” I landed on this morning, not after what Matty shared with me at the breakfast table. It might hit too close to home to pretend he needs to “find himself” and I’m tired of waiting for him to be found.
I’ll just have to fall back on our original plan, but with one very important shift in execution.
A shift that I, for one, think could be fun…
Chapter Sixteen
MATTY
