Page 100 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
CHAPTER 37
MARCY
There are moments in life when the background noise drops out, like a record scratch in the middle of a song.
That’s what it feels like when Mathieu and I step into the corridor. The arena is still buzzing as voices echo, sneakers squeak on tile, a vending machine hums nearby, but all of it is muffled under the pounding of my heart.
We walk out together in silence and make our way toward Main Street.
“What do you think of this place?” Mathieu asks, gesturing toward the bistro.
“It’s fabulous.”
We go in and Mathieu offers a nod toward a table. He pulls out a chair for me saying, “Mademoiselle.” Same accent as Clément. My heart aches at the thought of him.
We sit in silence for a few seconds, then he reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a tin of mints. Offers me one like we’re about to have a casual conversation, and not a discussion about the man I’m currently falling for while he’s laid out on a bench behind a closed door.
“I’m not feeling very minty right now,” I say.
“C’est dommage.” He pops one in his mouth.
The waitress shows up and we order drinks. I don’t even remember what I asked for. Sparkling water? I never drink sparkling water. I count myself lucky my head is attached to me right now.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Mathieu says. “I confess I didn’t expect it would be under these circumstances.”
I look at him and see the sincerity in his expression. “You’ve known Clément a long time, right?”
“Since childhood. Hockey camp. I was terrible. He was… Clément.” Mathieu’s mouth quirks into a smile. “We shared our snacks and he told the coach to stop yelling when I cried.” Mathieu’s smile lingers, then fades into something more thoughtful. “He always notices things other people don’t. When to push. When not to. Most people don’t realize how much he carries for the people around him.”
I nod slowly. “I’ve seen him take care of my friend Scotty and ask for nothing in return. Seems he’s the kind of person who takes care of everyone but doesn’t let them take care of him.”
Mathieu chuckles under his breath. “Oui. Believe me, he’s been taking care of me since my spectacular romantic implosion two years ago. Showed up at my apartment with groceries. Makes me take walks. Once signed me up for yoga under a fake name.”
“Please tell me the fake name.”
“Jean-Claude Van Damme.”
That gets a full laugh out of me. “He really is incredible,” I say. “Honestly, I don’t understand how women aren’t falling all over him.”
Mathieu raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, no.” I lift a hand. “That was out loud, wasn’t it?”
He smiles, then looks down at his tea. “He’s had his fair share of attention. But he knows the difference between what is celebrity and what’s real. I think that’s what makes him different. He really wantsthe one.”
I nod, fiddling with the edge of my napkin. “Don’t we all?”
“Hm,” Mathieu says, and he looks wistful. “I used to believe in all of that. The one, the lightning strike, the impossibility of it all.” He shrugs lightly. “Now, I don’t know. Maybe I just haven’t met the right one yet.”
“When you do,” I say gently, “she’ll be very lucky.”
He smiles again, smaller this time. “Let’s just hope she’s still out there.”
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but something in the way he says it makes me wonder who broke his heart, and what it would take to piece it back together.
“You need to know that Clément is one of the best people I know, always has been.” Mathieu adds quietly, “And he’s fallen hard for you.”
My throat tightens. “So why is he doing this? Why won’t he just talk to me? He’s pushing me away like he didn’t feel everything that happened between us the other night. ButI knowhe did.”
