Page 21 of To Believe In You
“Ah.” What had happened to his ability to engage in small talk? To act like a grown man? He used to do press interviews and be the life of the party. Talking to women had been a specialty. Of course, he’d usually been drunk or high, and he never would’ve tried with a woman as pulled together as Lina.
Out of his league. She was out of his league.
From her other side, Gannon silently observed him.
Great. Had Gannon seen the one-sided bout of attraction? Because the last thing Matt needed was to give either Gannon or Lina another reason to judge him.
God, help me.
He’d leave, but how classless would abandoning Issy’s play appear to everyone else?
Matt gulped and pretended to be engrossed in the opening announcements.
He’d see this through. And then never accept another invite Tim extended.
* * *
Lina’sback ached from the awkward angle of sitting between Gannon’s and Matt’s broad shoulders without touching either. At least Gannon kept his far arm around Adeline and leaned more into her space than into Lina’s. She couldn’t blame Matt for not wanting to crowd Tim, but she had to constantly monitor her arm to keep from nudging him.
Distracted by one of Isabella’s big scenes, she shifted. The whisper of fabric touching registered louder than anything happening on stage as her shoulder brushed his. She jerked back into her own airspace. Matt leaned far enough that he could, if he wanted, move his arm up and over the back of the seat. If he tried making more room by resting that arm along the back of her chair …
The threat fizzled as he resettled, his hands folded in his lap, an extra inch between them.
She pressed her palms together, arms glued to her sides. Beside her, Gannon kept his arm around his fiancée, Adeline’s head on his shoulder. The couple occasionally whispered to each other, and their comfortable connection only accented Lina’s discomfort. She sure missed the days when she had someone other than her own elbows to cuddle with.
Twenty minutes later, little Bailey-the-mouse scurried across the stage, sporting a painted button nose and a headband with ears. To follow her movement, Lina leaned.
Her knuckles brushed something firm, the warmth and texture registering as skin. Matt’s forearm. Startled embarrassment blazed all the way up her arm and onto her cheeks. If only he’d worn long sleeves, the contact wouldn’t have felt so personal. Flustered, she blinked toward the stage.
Bailey was already gone again.
Matt remained still.
Too still?
She didn’t dare cut a glance at his face to see if he’d noticed—how could he have missed it?—but her line of sight did wander to the skin she’d grazed.
The panther tattoo ogled her in return.
When the play finally ended, she and Matt rushed to their feet. He shooed Tim out of the end of the aisle and navigated through the crowd to the exit.
Tim frowned after him. “I wonder where he thinks he’s going.”
Gannon’s hazel eyes tracked his former bandmate, then focused on Lina. “How’s it going with him?”
Lina shrugged. Her purse, tucked under her arm, vibrated. Good thing she’d silenced her phone for the performance, or it would interrupt now. And for what? So Dad could try to talk her into selling again? She lowered her purse by the straps, distancing herself from the distraction. She couldn’t risk voicing her frustrations about Matt when she didn’t know how Gannon felt about him. Especially since Adeline had been the one to extend the opportunity. “Adeline’s worked with him more than I have so far.”
Adeline threaded her fingers with her fiancé’s, and the way the two looked at each other seemed to be its own conversation. If Lina understood correctly, Adeline told him to stop worrying, and he told her to stop being so trusting.
When Lina and Shane had disagreed, he’d always withdrawn. Memories of the times he’d stepped away somehow stung less than the times he’d stayed, ignoring her and leaving her hanging onto a limp hand.
Gannon’s fingers, still firmly clasped around Adeline’s hand, served as a reminder that not all relationships were the same. Not all men were bound to break hearts.
Did God have someone she could trust her heart to?
As they made their way into the aisle, Lina pulled her purse back onto her shoulder. Her phone vibrated again, a short beat to signal a message from whoever had called. She slipped the device from her purse. At the sight of the number on the screen, fear squeezed her so tightly, she couldn’t move. She’d deleted the contact from her phone, but the digits were burned in her mind.
Shane.
