Page 70 of Who We Love

“I can get used to this teasing-the-little-sister exercise. The Deckers taught me everything there is to know.” He smirks at Matt who glares at him. “I think I understand how it works.”

“Dad, Mason is bothering me.” I stick my tongue out at Mason and walk closer to my father, who is smiling at me, his lips stretching so broadly that it makes my heart sing.

ChapterForty-Four

Matthew

As I arrive home,the early rays of sun stream through the blinds, illuminating the empty house. My choices are to head upstairs and catch up on some sleep before I head back to the office or go through the many emails I ignored yesterday.

The second option wins, because who the fuck am I kidding? I haven’t slept well since Thea’s revelation came to light.

Shit, so much has happened since that day. I rub my chest, trying to release some of the hurt that remains from losing… him.

Motherfucker.

The ease with which he gave up on us still stings. Tossing our happiness because he can’t push hishard limits.He left when we needed him the most, when our lives were shifting. Thea found her father, she’s soaring as a counselor, and… well that’s about as much I’ve gathered from the few conversations I’ve had with her.

Remorse floods my thoughts as I remember I missed yet another trip back home and didn’t make time to tell her. Massaging my temples, I walk into the library where my father has his piano. I need to lose myself for a while and find some music to take away the pain.

God, Tristan isn’t the only one. I’ve fucked up so badly lately, but it’s hard for me to keep my shit together when the production company is going through so many changes. After the latest numbers, Dad stepped back into the offices and gave me one of those “what the fuck are you thinking?” lectures. It turns out that when he said, “The company is yours,” he meant it. It’s mine to do whatever the hell I want with, as long as it succeeds.

Translation: I’m busting my balls to recover the ground I lost, assigning new jobs to the ex-board members, and relocating the company. All while producing, directing, and writing new shows that will stream online in the future, and searching for new scripts. With that load, I barely have any time left for my personal life.

Before I lose myself inside my music, I take out my phone to call my woman. I’m pulling her up in my list of contacts when I hesitate. As much as I hate to admit it, our last conversation was awkward as fuck.

The space of everything that we haven’t dealt with—that we miss—is expanding between us. I know we need to talk. She keeps telling me that we do. But tonight… tonight is not the night for all of that. I think better of it and decide to fire off a text to her instead.

Matt: Hey, just got home after a long day at work. Sorry I missed this weekend’s trip, but it’s busy at the office.

I’m a cowardly fuck. Flipping through her pictures, the sense of grief and loneliness grabs hold of my heart and takes all the air from my lungs. I love her so much. I miss her. But calling or seeing her right now means either putting on a happy face or dealing with our mounting problems, and I just don’t have the energy to do it.

Butterfly: Maybe next week?

Shit.She’s awake. I hoped she wouldn’t be, that by the time she answered I could ignore this text. Rising from my seat, I walk to the big window. The ocean view doesn’t help me forget, doesn’t ease the pain. It brings back memories of everything that can’t be fixed, of what we lost.

Butterfly: I miss you.

Matt: I miss you too, baby. How about I check the schedule when I go back to the office in a couple of hours? If all else fails, you can fly to meet me when I head to Vancouver.

That’s not for another three weeks. Should be plenty of time for me to gather strength, to get back to my old self.

Butterfly: Sounds like a plan. Maybe later tonight we can chat over the phone?

Matt: I’ll call you, but I’ll text if we pull another all-nighter.

Butterfly: You need to rest, Mattie. I’m worried about you, baby.

Matt: Nothing to worry about, Butterfly. Hate to leave you, but I have to take a quick nap. I love you.

Butterfly: Love you too.

Setting my phone back inside my pocket I decide to forget about my bed and release some of the anguish I carry inside me through my music. Let it flow through the wind.

ChapterForty-Five

Matthew

Mattie,

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