Page 43 of Pucking Matt
I gather the folders and retreat to my desk, diving into the sea of legal jargon and marital discord. As I'm skimming through the preliminary documents, a name catches my eye: Pearson.
I blink, sure I must be seeing things. Pearson isn't exactly an uncommon name, right? There's no way it could be related to Matt. The universe isn't that cruel…is it?
With a growing sense of dread, I flip to the next page to check the husband's last name. Cress.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm preparing divorce documents for Matt and Grey's parents. Because my life isn't complicated enough already.
I sit back in my chair, trying to process this new information. And I wonder if Matthew knows about this? Surely, he must. I can’t ever ask because of little things like confidentiality and HIPAA.
So instead, I take a deep breath and dive back into the paperwork like this couple is like any other couple. If she needs counseling from a paralegal like myself, I think I might be screwed because she would recognize me. I could never mistake the woman who yelled at me when she came to pick up her son from school. She was livid I tackled him down the stairs.
By the time I finish for the day, my head is spinning with legal terms and the weight of knowledge I can't share. I practically sprint out of the office, eager to put some distance between myself and anything that has to deal with Matt.
For the first time all year, I go to the gym. I need to release some steam, and exercise is a great stress relief. Once I do the Stairmaster and lift a few weights, I realize I’ve missed this and need to come more often. But it doesn’t matter how hard I push myself, there’s still that nagging knowledge that my life is somehow revolving around the number one person I cannot stand.
Chapter 12
Zack is in the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal as I’m heading out for class.
“Is it true that you work at the Grind Stone now?” he asks.
I nod. “Yep.”
“Do you give discounts to friends?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m sure I can. Stop by.”
“Okay. Will do.”
I leave the house, walking over to my truck when something on it catches my eye. As I get closer, I finally see what it is. A sticker. Fuck––a sticker! And it reads:Honk if you love dick!
Jesus Christ. I stare at it, recalling yesterday when a group of girls in the college parking lot started honking their horns and waving at me. I didn’t think anything of it when I waved back. But now, now I know I owe Amber something fantastic.
I walk into the Grind Stone, acting nonchalant like I’ve worked here a dozen times already. It’s one of the ways to keep Amber on her toes.
As I walk past her, I don’t bother to look at her. She’s with a customer when I clock in. I throw on an apron and start assisting with the order.
“Hi,” Amber says, walking to my side.
I’m not used to her being friendly, so I’m thrown off.
She asks, “Would you like to finish this sandwich or make their drink?”
“I can finish this,” I mutter.
“Okay,” she says, walking off.
I steal a glance behind my back. Is she feeling alright?
She gently takes the finished sandwich from my hands and then gives the waiting customer their order.
“Matt,” she says, meeting my eyes. “Would you like to take this next customer? I’ll make sure you enter it in everything correctly.”
“Sure,” I say, walking over. I smile at the customer. “Welcome to the Grind Stone. What can I get for you?”
The customer smiles at me. “I would like a ham and provolone with all the regular stuff. But please remove the mustard.”
