One Last Shot (Pub Fiction #3) (17 page)

Words. Those words are the final catalyst. They break me. Making everything I’ve been thinking about my relationship with Matty come to light. Like snap cubes clicking into place, the idea of Matty as my Dorothy resonates deep within me, triggering so many crazy emotions that I burst into hot tears at the realization.

Matty is the only person I’ve ever shown what’s really lurking behind the curtain. Like Dorothy in Oz, he’s seen the wizard.

“Oh, my shit, Kat, you’re right. Matt
is
my Dorothy,” I gasp, between sobs.
How the hell did I miss this?
He’s the one man I let in, and he never ran when he saw behind my curtain of crazy.

“Oh, Kat. What the fuck have I done? I’ve ruined it all. I told him I was done. Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?” I get angry now, mad that she’s kept this from me. As if it were somehow her fault.

Kat moves across to sit beside me. “I just didn’t think you were ready yet. But now you are.” She shrugs her shoulders like it’s nothing. “So, buck up, buttercup, and let’s figure out how we’re going to make all things right in the Land of Oz again.”

And just like that, my sister from another mister puts my love life into a perspective that I’d been trying to deny, one I know it’s time to admit and accept.

Matty is my Dorothy.

Now to go and get him back…

Matt

“H
ey, man, isn’t
Ryker here yet? I thought I was gonna be the late one, for sure,” Justin says, taking the seat directly across from me. “Traffic on the QEW was brutal.”

We decided to meet for drinks at Pub Fiction, figuring we could catch up with Ryker since we haven’t seen him since the wedding, and go over some work shit at the same time. I love owning a business with these guys. Everything seems to come so easy, which makes the shitstorm that is my personal life the only source of stress right now.

“Yeah, he had to help Kat with something for Claire, I guess,” I tell Justin. “He’ll be here soon. I didn’t want to ask, I’m trying to be Claire-free.”

“Sorry, so Imma bypass the Claire talk,” Justin says.

“Yeah, let’s,” I say, glowering, despite the fact that I can never simply “bypass” anything to do with Claire Knox. It seems I’m unable to ignore the feelings the mere mention of her name fires up inside me.

The last few weeks have been an adjustment to say the least. I’d always held onto the hope that she’d eventually come around, that we’d work her shit out together, but as of now, I’d say it’s not gonna happen. Having her home has never made her feel so far away. I fucking hate it, but I don’t know how to fix it, her, or us. But even after our breakup, a small part of me thought we’d at least be talking again by now.

Waking up the morning after the wedding, I felt like I’d been at a funeral. It was like I was paying final respects to one of the people that I’d loved the most in my life. The only difference was, there was a chance that I’d be seeing her again, for which I was grateful, but at the same time it scared the piss out of me.
’Cause how the fuck do we get back to a place of peace after the words we’d said to each other in the washroom?

Not gonna lie, my life post-wedding has been total shit. My escape patterns of drink, work, drink again, work, hanging with the guys, and trying to date as a means to relocate my balls, aren’t working.

Justin says I need to date, he’s convinced if I date, I’ll magically be cured. According to him, I just need to get my dick wet, as if that’s gonna solve my problems. But the only thing I want wetting my cock is Claire’s tight pussy.
Fucker doesn’t get it, not sure he ever will.

There is no substitute for Claire Knox—there never will be. Believe me, I’ve tried. For two damn years, I tried, tried to get her out from under my skin. It’s too bad this girl is meant to be a permanent fixture in my fucking life whether she or I want her to be or not. I swear, I’ve slid my finger over her name to type out a text so many times that the glass has a landing strip across it from the constant friction. I’ve driven by her house hundreds of times, but each time I start to replay the wedding in my mind to make sure I never actually stop. Rainy days are the worst—staying away during the thunderstorms has been the toughest—I know how much she hates them. Luckily, my brain overrules my heart, sending the pussy in me a gut-wrenching reminder that it’s no longer my concern, Claire isn’t my concern anymore. Despite mulling over Levi’s advice to be there for her, to be her friend, I can’t. I’m all out of patience where she’s concerned.

Needless to say, I’m a clusterfuck of I-have-no-fuckin’-clue-what-the-fuck-I-want and what-the-fuck-should-I-do?

Lucky for me, I have Justin, the perpetual bachelor, who keeps me busy and has managed to get me to agree to try a date or two despite my knowing I’m not ready. But hey, I need to try something. It’s a hard fucking pill to swallow, the hardest, and I still can’t believe after all this time I have to let her go. But Justin is right, enough is enough. I’ve wasted more than enough time waiting around for Claire.

That realization guts me, but I need to pull up my jock strap and toss my panties aside. It’s time I move on, let someone else want me, let in someone who will appreciate and love me, and thanks to Justin I’m starting to. Well, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway.

“So, tell me, how was the date with Emily the other night?” Justin asks, drawing my attention back to the here and now. He’s set me up on two this past week. I tried to tell him it was too soon but he begged me to give it a shot. I had nothing better to do, and I figured fuck it, at least she’d be out of my head for a few hours, right?

“It was shit,” I answer. “She’s blonde. I’m not into blondes anymore. No more blondes.” I pour him a beer from the pitcher Brooke’s dropped off.

“Fuck, sorry, guy, I didn’t think about that. But how was Lorelei? That chick is fucking hot and has the best set of tits I’ve seen. Well, they look amazing, anyway. She won’t show me. Some shit about being too good friends.”

Not a chance they’re the best, I’ve seen the best.
“Yeah, she was okay. She’s a blonde, too, by the way.”

“Picky, picky.”

“You trying to help or what?” I ask, giving him a dirty look; sometimes I wonder whose side he’s on here. “She was nice enough. I think we had a good time.”

He laughs. “Dude, she said it was the worst date she’s ever had. She said she spent the whole night wishing her name was Claire. What the fuck did you do and say to the poor girl?” he asks mockingly, and I think back to our initial meeting.
Fuck.

Maybe she didn’t have a good time after all…

She’s blonde.

But not the right blonde.

I knew I wasn’t ready. Fuck, I wasn’t ready three days ago with Emily, either. Stupid Justin and his ‘get on one to get over one’ mentality.
No wonder the dude is always gonna be single,
I think to myself as I walk toward a smiling woman who I can tell is way too excited for this date. The one that Justin set up. The one I told him I didn’t want.

“Matty?” she questions, making sure it’s me. “Hi! I’m Lorelei!” she says, rising to greet me with a hug. She’s practically squealing and it grates on my nerves immediately. It’s a voice that’s also not the right one.

“It’s Matt. Only Cla—” I cut myself off. “I’d prefer Matt. Only my close friends call me Matty,” I snap, immediately feeling like a dick as she recoils. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I run my hand through my hair. “Honestly, this was a bad idea. I’m not gonna be the right guy for you. I should go, save us both the trouble.”

“Wow, okay,” she says, a bit of surprise lacing her tone. “Justin mentioned this was new, you doing the dating thing again,” Lorelei says, assessing me. “Hey, that’s okay. But, I mean, we’re here. Might as well eat, right?” she asks, hopeful.

I guess it wouldn’t kill me to sit and have a meal with her. She seems nice, and you never know, maybe one day I’ll wanna real date. “Sure. We can do that. It’s the least I can do after being so rude.” I gesture to the seat.

“Maybe it would do you good to try and talk about her.” Lorelei says, placing her napkin on her lap.

“Talk about who?” I ask, picking up the menu.

She laughs, drawing my attention: “
Claire.
I assume that was the name you were going to say before?” She looks up over her menu, offering a smile. “Why don’t you get it off your chest? She’s clearly on your mind. I mean, I’m dressed like this…” Lorelei gestures to what I notice is a pretty tight shirt, her ample cleavage spilling from the top. “I’m pretty much a sure thing and you haven’t even looked at my boobs. That’s a red flag, buddy. You’re either gay or in love.”

I relax and laugh, too. It feels good. “Okay,” I sigh. “You’re right. I’m totally not over my…wow, she’s not really even my ex; it’s fucking complicated. I apologize. You’re very attractive, but you’re right, I’m totally taken. Whether she wants me or not, I’m hers.”

“Okay, so spill. Get it all out, big boy, maybe I can help. Give you a woman’s perspective.”

With that, we spend the next few hours talking, drinking and eating, and becoming fast friends.

I hear Justin’s voice giving me shit and I’m pulled back to the conversation at hand.

“Shit, yeah, I might have mentioned her a time or two,” I shrug, taking a drink of my crisp beer.

See? I’m shit at moving on. I’m not ready plus, I simply don’t want to.

“Do you really wanna talk about her?” he asks.

“Who? Lorelei or Emily?” I ask, putting my beer down on the sleek tabletop.

“No. Claire, asshole. That’s who. This talking about her with your dates clearly isn’t working. You can’t talk about Claire to potential girlfriends.”

“No. I don’t want to talk about her. And no way are any of these chicks gonna be my girlfriend.” I pick up my beer and down it, before starting to pour more.

“I’m sorry, man.” Justin pulls the pitcher away, filling a glass for Ryker who just strode up to our table, before I finished the whole thing. “I’m the worst at this shit. You are clearly not ready to see new people.”

“I agree. You gonna back off now?” I ask, a bit more harshly than I meant to. “Sorry, man, I know you’re just trying to help. But I’m still fucked up over this whole thing.”

“Listen, brother, I get it. Now, I know I’m the resident idiot here since the last serious relationship I had was never, and I know I should be the last person to offer advice, but honestly I think you’re making a mistake. Claire loves you. And you love her. She just needs to learn to trust herself to let go. I say call her,” Justin says, like it’s just that easy.

“I can’t, man, it’s not that simple. I’m too mad right now to see her or talk to her. It’s like she played this hard-to-get game and I liked it. Thrived on it, and she did too. But I’ve waited and pined long enough. It looks like she’s
never
gonna be ready, so I need to figure out a way to move on. Eventually. For now I’m just gonna focus on work, and finding a Matt who can exist without the hope of getting to love Claire in this lifetime. I love her, but, fuck, I need to move on.”

I’m almost 27. I can’t live in Knox limbo anymore.

I can’t keep being like this.

I’m not living—I’m just fucking waiting.

I’m done…I need to be.

Truth be told, even if she were to give us one last shot, part of me wonders if she’d just spend all her time mourning the loss of us anyway, acting like we were over before we actually got started?

“I gotta say, I agree with Justin,” Ryker says. “You love her. You gotta bide your time and make a play again when the time is right. If it helps, I know she’s been miserable. We almost had to come home ’cause Kat was worried about her. I’m not supposed to say shit about it to you, but you’re my boy, so…”

“Is she okay?” I interject, a feeling of unease taking over.

“Yeah, and from what I heard she’s been making some changes. Went to see her parents finally.”

“Wow, that’s huge. Good for her,” I say, despite feeling a tinge of hurt because I had no idea. I cringe thinking about what I’m missing. I’ve got mixed emotions about this. I mean, of course I’m happy for her, it’s about time she deals with all the shit she’s been carrying around, but at the same time, I hate that I didn’t have a clue she’d gone to the one place I’d always secretly hoped she’d go with me, or at least take me to meet them sometime. I know her parents mean everything to her so for Claire this is a major step. A step I wish I could have been there to support.

“Don’t sweat it,” Ryker punches my shoulder, “she’s still your Holy Grail. You two are gonna be just fine. Mary’s been helping her. She’s doing well, just give her time and she’ll come around. Trust in Cupid.”

With that said, Ryker orders another pitcher, thank Christ, ’cause I need it.

I spend the rest of the night listening to Ryk and Justin go on about the new renovations we’d like to have done, and a possible budget for new equipment. I nod when required, add in “yeps” and “yeahs” when appropriate. I try really hard to show interest I don’t feel.

My mind is reeling with all things Claire Knox.

Maybe there is still an inkling of hope for us, after all?

Fuck, I hope so.

Claire

I
t’s been two
weeks since I had my little session of revelations with Kat at Fine Grind. I have yet to reach out to Matt—because honestly I’ve been scared shitless of how I’m going to say all the things he deserves to hear.

This morning, however, I woke with my resolve strongly in place. It was time to extend that proverbial olive branch. I finally made the decision and I texted him.

Me:
Hey Matty, I’m not a photographer, but I can picture you and me together! Can we talk?

“Uh, maybe not.” I shake my head, deleting each word. “We aren’t quite there yet, are we?” I sigh and try again.

Me:
Hi Matt. It’s Claire. I really want to live in your socks so I can be with you every step of the way!