Page 153 of Lovers' Dance

“I beg your pardon?”

“Smothering, you know, overwhelming someone with too much affection with the effect that said person feels restricted.”

“Okay,” he said after a few charged seconds. “What is wrong with you? I know it’s not your time of month. That was last week. Did you have a horrible day at the studio? Have you perhaps lost your bloody mind?”

Aahh. My ‘good’ bad plan seemed to be taking off here. Oh God. I was going to regret this shit.

“No to all those questions, Matt. You can get a bit much sometimes. ‘Where are you, poppet? Why haven’t you answered your phone, poppet? I want to see you, poppet. Do this, poppet. Do that, poppet.’ It’s like having a parole officer when I haven’t committed a crime. And my picture was in the papers yet again today. The photographer made my ass look big, Matt. I need some time to myself—”

“Time to yourself?” he asked quietly. Why wasn’t he yelling at me? He should be fuming. Matt continued in a calm voice, “But aren’t your friends staying with you?”

“Well, yeah.” I tried to think of something else I could say to annoy my knight. “But they’re my friends. They’re an extension of myself, so they don’t count.”

“I’m smothering you?” he asked. “I want to be clear on this, Madison.”

“Uh hmm,” I mumbled, feeling like the biggest bitch alive.

“Poppet,” Matt’s voice was gentle and I got nervous. He did not sound like a man who’d basically been told by his girlfriend to get lost. “Why are you trying to pick a fight with me? Is there a particular reason you don’t want me around at this time? Talk to me.”

“How do you do that?” I jumped to my feet and began to pace the length of my small kitchen. “Are you part Vulcan? Have you done some weird mind-meld on me? Because it’s like you always know what I’m thinking.”

His side of the line was silent.

I took a few deep breaths before apologizing. It was a ‘bad’ bad idea, a stupid one. “I’m sorry, Matt. It’s—I’m not—now isn’t—” I sighed loudly, unable to construct a proper sentence. My chest felt tight with emotion and my eyes felt dry and itchy, the dry itchiness you get right before you burst into tears.

“Madi, whatever it is, we can sort it,” he said with quiet confidence and my stupid eyes started tearing up. I wanted his anger, not his sweet caring.

I cradled my cell to my ear and leaned against the cabinets. “No, we can’t, Matt. I get real messy around this time, and I don’t want you seeing me like that. Please understand. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, but the next few days are going to be bad. I’m talking sewerage plant explosion bad.”

He chuckled softly down the line at my analogy and I smiled a little, just a little.

“Shit raining from the heavens kind of thing?” he teased tenderly, and I smiled more than a little.

“Yes, exactly.” I flexed my right foot a few times. “If you see me like that, well, let’s just say the next thing I’ll hear from you is: ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you.’”

“What time are your friends arriving at Heathrow?” Matt asked suddenly.

The unexpected change of topic left my head spinning, and I answered automatically, “Two am. Why?”

“If I leave now, I can get to yours in well under an hour and accompany you to the airport. I don’t like the idea of you on the roads at that time,” he explained.

“Dante’s coming over,” I blurted out. “He’s going with me to the airport.”

Matt’s side went silent again, then he said, “That’s fine, poppet. I’m still going to pop over tonight, though.”

“Matt, please. You don’t have to come over. I’ll be fine, I just need to do my thing for the next few days, then everything will be back to normal. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do, poppet.”

“I’m a big girl, Matt.”

“You’re not a girl,” he continued in that gentle tone of his. “You’re my woman and you’re tiny.”

“Ballerina size,” I corrected.

“Pint size,” he joked and I grinned. He was good at making me smile.

“Be that as it may, my lovely knight,” I replied softly. “I need to handle this in my own way. Please understand.”

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