One Blazing Night. Jo Leigh
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Matt? Matt!
Sam hadn’t heard his voice in a very long time.
Her eyes shut tight as the world stopped turning. As the memories piled one on top of another. He was her first. Her very, very first love. And her first heartbreak.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been dancing on the head of a pin, but surely he must have thought she’d fainted or something. Well, something had definitely happened—most of her major organs were spinning around like tops.
Matt had been one of her best friends back in her MIT days. She’d been fourteen as a freshman, so all her friends had been four or five years older—and they’d all happened to be guys. They’d bonded over gaming, Marvel comics and bad horror movies. And none of them had been bothered by her age. The guys had protected her. Teased her. And they hadn’t cared that she had the social skills of a paper clip.
“Hello? Still there?”
“Hu...hi, Matt?”
“You okay?”
“Just dropped my pencil,” she said, gripping the phone so tightly she thought it might break. “Sorry.”
“I know it’s been forever. How are you, Sammy?” he asked, his voice dipping lower in a way that made her melt.
No one called her Sammy. She hadn’t heard that name in so long she’d figured she’d never hear it again. It made her blush, and she was grateful there was nobody there to see her. She needed to get off the phone. She couldn’t think. There was too much going on in her head and she’d already started doodling, which wasn’t helping. All she needed to do was tell him she’d call him back. “I’m...I’m...fine. I’m good. Better.”
“Better? Was something wrong?”
“No. Not as such. No. Just— That would be no. Nothing was wrong. I meant to say ‘richer.’”
He laughed. “I’d kind of figured that after reading about your work. So you weren’t quite as dim as we all led you to believe, huh?”
“Not quite.” Her face was so hot she was reasonably sure she was going to burst into flames any second. She was a jumble of emotions. It wasn’t fair, him calling her out of the blue. It had taken her so long to get over him, after all. “How are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice cheerful.
That should buy her a couple of minutes. But she needed to listen. What if he said he was dying or something and she missed it?
“I’m good. Jet-lagged. Just got in from Tokyo.”
“Godzilla stirring up trouble again?”
“I wish,” he said, his voice the same. Exactly the same. She wanted to curl up under the covers and dream about him for a week. “Nothing but boring contracts to negotiate.”
“But you still like being a lawyer, right?”
“Some days are better than others. But yeah.”
“And you’re living in New York?” Was she supposed to know that was where he lived? Oh, God. Why was she still talking?
“I am,” he said, the words delivering both disappointment and relief. If he’d moved back to Boston, she would’ve died. “Hey, I heard from Logan last night.”
Logan was part of the gang that had always had her back in college. “I saw him in June,” she said, thankful for the safe shift in conversation.
“Yeah, I know. He said that crazy apartment of yours is not to be missed. I’m a little hurt that I wasn’t invited for a test run.”
Hi there, worst nightmare! She held back the groan that had come with the thought. “We haven’t talked since you... For a long time. I wasn’t sure...”
“That’s true,” he said, rescuing her as he’d done so often when her words got stuck. Then he sighed. “I want to blame it on traveling the way I do. And my marriage. Or my divorce. Pick one, and it’ll be true. Bottom line? I’ve thought about you. Especially when I’ve happened to catch yet another article about some new, brilliant thing you’ve invented. To be honest, I figured you’d probably only answer the phone for Stephen Hawking, not guys like me.”
“Not a guy like you? I talk to Logan and Rick. They’re not Hawking. I don’t even know Stephen Hawking. He never calls.”
“Never writes? Bastard.”
She smiled and some of her parts relaxed. Not her heart, though. That was still doing cartwheels even as she tried to put on the brakes. “I’m still me,” she said, as a reminder to herself more than him. “Still can’t talk on the phone worth a damn. Still watching my old copies of Robot Chicken and playing ‘World of Warcraft.’”
“Thank God,” he said. “I’d hate it if you weren’t you. No, that’s wrong. We all change, and I’m sure you have, too. You’re certainly doing a great job in the career department.”
“I have people. Lawyers. A financial planner and a business manager. They talk business. I talk to tech people, so that’s like school.”
“I’m glad. I really am. Look, I’m coming to Boston for a week or so, and I’d love to stay in that smart apartment, at least for a few days. But mostly, I want to see you.”
See her? Why? “Okay,” she said, because she was an idiot and she couldn’t think straight and this was Matt. “When are you coming?”
“In three days.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m not exactly sure of the schedule, so when Clark gets back, I’ll have him check, okay? He usually makes things, um, happen, so, you know, he’s at lunch but he’ll give you a call.”
After a tense pause, Matt said, “I will get to see you, right?”
No. The word she was looking for was no. She couldn’t see him. Not in a million years. It would be a disaster of epic proportions. “Yeah. Of course. I’ve got some deadline things, but, you know.”
He laughed. Quietly. Fondly. And that was the stuff that made him so dangerous. He was rich, gorgeous, smart as a whip and could have any woman on the planet. And he was her friend. The problem was that she’d fallen in love with him two minutes after midnight on her sixteenth birthday and now it was all too clear she hadn’t let go of that silly pipe dream. Great. This couldn’t suck more.
“I’m glad Clark is still there with you.”
“Yeah. Couldn’t do it without him. But he also does some cool stuff on his own.”
After a brief silence that proved to Sam it was impossible to swallow with a dry mouth, Matt said, “I’m excited to see you, Sammy.”
“I’m wearing a Black Widow sweatshirt and black tights I bought at a flea market in Cambridge.”
“Okay. Wait. Didn’t you used to wear something like that back at MIT?”
“Yep. Same sweatshirt.”
“That’s my girl.” This time Matt’s laugh put her on edge. She felt like that socially inept teenager he’d befriended a lifetime ago. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to work,” he said. “Let me know about the apartment.”
“Will do.”
After they disconnected, she put her cell phone back where it belonged, picked up her iPod and changed the music to Led Zeppelin.
The pounding drumbeat synced to her thudding heart. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t. God. But what if...?
* * *
MATT DRANK IN the sight of the New York City skyline, and as always, he lingered on the Chrysler Building, his favorite. It was a clear fall night, and from his twenty-fourth-floor penthouse, everything looked the way it did in the movies. His trip to Asia had lasted two long months but was well worth it. He’d