Page 49 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“Poppet,” he sighed, glancing at his watch with a grimace.

“I just want to spend some time in my home, watching my tv-”

“There are over five television sets here. You can watch tv here.”he countered.

“It’s just a few nights, Matt.” I continued.

“A few nights? You said one night, now you want a few nights?” His tie was all askew now.

I crooked a finger at him, beckoning him over. Matt’s fearsome scowl didn’t worry me. I wasn’t scared of this particular one. He closed the small distance between us and I started fixing his tie. Then I smoothed my hands through his silky hair, brushing it back until it bore some resemblance to its previous state. Matt’s grey eyes held an edge of iciness to them, a steely glint which spelt trouble…for me. The scowl hadn’t bothered me, but this did.

“Why are you fighting me on this, Madi?” he asked.

I had no answer for him. At least not one I wanted to voice out loud. I fiddled with the knot of his tie, unable to meet his gaze. He checked his watch again then placed my keys next to me on the island before moving back. Damn it. I hated that closed off expression on his face. It was time to come clean. “Matt, I’m scared.” Okay, saying it out loud made me sound foolish.

“Of what?” He did nothing to hide the exasperation he felt. “Scared to move in with me? You already spend so much time here and we’re engaged, for Christ’s sakes. What do you expect to happen when we’re married? You’re being ridiculous.”

I closed my hand over my keys. “Gee thanks, Matt. So understanding of you to not give me a chance to explain before calling me ridiculous.”

Matt exhaled long and hard before resting his hands over my denim-clad thighs. He impatiently checked his watch again then looked at me. “Ok, tell me why you’re scared.”

I shrugged, not wanting to tell him now. Was that childish? I didn’t think so. Hell, he called me ridiculous.

“Talk to me, poppet.” he cajoled. Oh, now he was being all sweet. “I’m listening. Tell me why you’re scared of living here with me.” Matt gently kneaded my thighs while waiting for me to talk.

“I don’t want to get consumed by the Matt vortex.” I blurted out, hoping he didn’t call me ridiculous again. If he did, I’d throw a few names back at him.

“I beg your pardon?” Matt sounded and looked confused.

“It’s so intense with you, it’s like being in a whirlwind - all the freaking time. I like my house, I like my own space, I like living close to my work, I like being able to come and go as I please-”

“You like your independence.” he summarized flatly. “And you believe moving in with me will affect that.”

“Of course it will.” I stated the obvious. Matt stepped away from me, he buttoned his suit jacket then rubbed his chin slowly. I moistened my lower lip with the tip of my tongue. “Matt, I just-”

“I have to go,” he interrupted coolly. “Look, I know I can be a bit much sometimes, I know I’m your first, well, first everything; but you need to figure out a way to deal with whatever is going on in that head of yours. Fast. I despise begging, which is what you’re reducing me to. I love you, we’re going to be married and I want you living here as soon as physically possible. I worry about you being there on your own at nights, did that ever cross your mind? You are always on my mind. Your well-being, safety…these are things that matter to me.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up my previous attempt of fixing it. “You won’t move in and you won’t set a date. It’s beginning to feel as if I’m the only one in this relationship.”

I watched in silence as he turned on his heels and stalked out the kitchen.

How?How did he manage to turn it all around on me? How could he make me feel guilty for feeling the way I did? I felt the way I felt. End of. So why was I now feeling like a horrible, selfish person? Was it wrong to be nervous about this massive change he wanted me to make? It was too late to escape the vortex and I had no tools at my disposal to build a damn ship.He never allowed me any time. Everything was always at his pace. And it was tiring trying to keep up. I clutched my bunch of keys and stared gloomily at the fridge-freezer. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice Matt re-enter the kitchen until he stood almost in front of me. We observed each other for a few seconds then he closed the distance and slipped a hand behind my neck. My eyes closed as he kissed me deeply, so deeply it felt as if he wanted to crawl into me, mouth first.

“Today’s Wednesday. Go home, stay until the weekend if you want. Just think about what I said and call me every night before you turn in.” he said gruffly.

I opened my eyes expecting to see a frustrated expression on his face but it wasn’t there. Instead he looked resigned and tired. My lips parted to say something, anything; he kissed me before I could utter a word, then he left. The sound of the front door slamming loudly a few minutes later made me feel even worse. Great. The New Year wasn’t off to a weird start, it was already fucked and my best friend was thousands of miles away. I fingered the crystal ballet shoes key ring and sighed really loudly.

“Chairs are used for sitting on, Ms DuMont, not counter tops.” George and his usual comments of reproach. And those damned gloves! It was bad enough he wore his butler get-up but those gloves were driving me crazy.

“Yeah, well, sue me.” I bit out, harsher than I intended. Another dollop of guilt filled me when I saw his mouth curl down around the edges. “I’m sorry, George. I rolled out on the wrong side of bed this morning. Shall I make us some breakfast? French toast do you?”

George walked over to the fridge-freezer and took out the eggs and milk. “I’ll prepare some for you, Ms DuMont.”

It didn’t matter that I had made the offer to cook, George was being George and it would take too much effort to complain. My relationship with Matt’s butler was skewered according to Grumps. Huh, I wasn’t going to give up our late night pig-outs and chats for anything.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Mr Bradley,” George said as he went about making breakfast. He put a skillet on the hob and sprayed some oil on the cold metal.

I gasped extra loud on purpose. “Eavesdropping, George?”

“I was not.” His affront was palpable, but the tips of his ears were red. “I happened to be passing by the kitchen while you were having your discussion.”

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