Matthew's Children. C.J. Carmichael
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behind the game.”
“Yeah. Right.” Clearly, Derrick wasn’t holding out any hopes.
Matthew longed to say something that would make his son feel better. But there was no quick fix to this situation. Not for any of them.
“I’ll phone the president of the soccer association and see what their plan is.”
“Don’t bother.” Derrick hung up, as miserable as he’d been at the beginning of the call.
Matthew was left with the knowledge that he’d disappointed his son yet again. He sighed, then pocketed the BlackBerry, this time making certain to turn it off first.
He met Jane on her way out and could barely contain his disappointment. “I thought we might have a second drink.”
“One was enough for me. And don’t worry. I covered the bill.”
Her gaze barely skimmed his face before she glanced away. Why was it so darn hard to get her to look him square in the eyes these days?
And he hated that she’d paid for their drinks.
He fell into step beside her as she headed back to the office. “This was supposed to be my treat. You know what that means?”
She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“I pick up the tab next time.”
“Next time?”
“Damn right next time.” He let himself touch her elbow as they crossed the street. It was all he could do to let go of her once they reached the other side.
“Jane.” He stopped her before she entered the revolving door that led to the lobby of their building.
“Yes, Matt?”
Ever since his phone call she’d been so cool and distant. He wished he could make up the ground that had been lost.
“I’m glad we had this talk.”
Her expression softened. “Me, too.”
“And we will do it again. Right?”
She hesitated. “Maybe.”
And then she quickened her pace and disappeared into the building. He watched and wondered what she would have said if he’d told her the truth.
That Gillian thought they’d been having an affair because during one of their arguments he’d admitted that although he wasn’t having an affair with Jane, he was more than halfway to being in love with her.
Chapter Five
ON WEDNESDAY EVENINGS from seven to ten, Gillian taught drama at night school and Matthew went over to her house to take care of the kids. When he and Gillian had split up, Violet had been only two. Much too young, Gillian said, to be away from her mother at night. So while Derrick could spend every second weekend with his father, Matthew was able to see his daughter only on day visits.
The trouble with that was that he never could be the one who helped her with her pj’s, who tucked her in and sang her lullabies. Now she was almost too old for that, which only made the routine all the more precious to him.
Last summer, when Gillian had told him about the teaching opportunity, he’d jumped at the chance to look after the kids on that night. Now, every Wednesday, Matthew was able to be a part of his children’s everyday life. Exactly what he wanted—and missed—the most.
On this Wednesday, Matthew read three of Violet’s favorite books to her, then made her a snack of sliced apples and cheese.
Derrick was out with his friends. According to the note Gillian had left on the kitchen table, he was supposed to be home by eight to do homework. Matthew checked his watch. It was ten to now. He glanced out the front window.
Hurry home, Derrick. He was eager to see his son and discuss the soccer coach situation. He’d been talking his dilemma over with one of the young lawyers on staff, who was also a father with kids who played soccer. Tim had suggested he work out a team coaching arrangement with one of the other parents. That way, if work interfered with a particular game or practice, he’d have some backup.
Matthew wanted to ask his son what he thought about the idea. If Derrick seemed keen—hell, if he seemed mildly supportive—Matthew planned to start working his way through the team phone list to find a coaching partner.
“I’m s’posed to brush my teeth now.” Violet had finished her snack and was gazing up at him with her huge blue eyes.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the bathroom.
“I can walk, Daddy. I’m a big girl.” She slithered from his arms and scampered ahead of him. Once there, he helped her to squeeze a tiny bit of paste on her princess toothbrush.
She set to work, brushing vigorously, while with her free hand she held on to his shirt as if to prevent him from going anywhere. He wished she didn’t have to worry, that she would know she could count on him being here whenever she needed him.
During those first months in his own apartment, after he’d moved out of the house he’d shared with his family for thirteen years, the hardest times had been coming home from the office. Every night he would open the door to silence. Only, in his mind, he would hear the sound of running footsteps and little voices calling out, “Daddy! Daddy’s home!”
Derrick had been beyond that stage by the time of the breakup, but not Violet. Matthew remembered setting down his briefcase so he could scoop her into his arms, and the giggles when he placed her on his shoulders and galloped around the dining-room table.
Gillian had claimed he was a workaholic, but there had been happy times, too. He wished that instead of letting his work drive a wedge between Gillian and him, she could have helped him understand how much he was missing.
But blaming Gillian for his obsession wasn’t fair. His father’s untimely death wasn’t responsible for his compulsive work ethic, either. According to his mother, he’d always been an A-type personality.
When he had a job to do, he felt like he was in a tunnel. He couldn’t focus on anything but the deadline in front of him.
His brother Gavin couldn’t understand. But then Gavin was one of those guys born to be a dad. Even though he, too, had a demanding job, as an architect, he’d had no trouble fitting in lots of time with his twin girls.
And Gavin’s life hadn’t been a picnic. First the mother of his girls had deserted them. Then, when the twins were in first grade, one had been killed in an accident on the street.
For the sake of the daughter he still had, Gavin had relocated his small family to New Hampshire, where he was now happily remarried.
Whenever Matthew was in a pinch with his kids, he always asked himself what Gavin would do. Now, as he settled Violet into her bed precisely at eight o’clock and Derrick still hadn’t shown up, he found himself once again wishing for his brother’s wisdom.
Violet had always been a sound sleeper, and her eyes were closed by the time he had her covered. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he whispered. He kissed her cheek, then left her room with the door ajar.
The view out the front window was disappointing. No sign of Derrick. He called his son’s cell phone—last year’s Christmas gift—only to be put through to messages.
“It’s after eight, Derrick. You should be home by now. Please call as soon as you get this.”
Matthew riffled through the newspaper, but he couldn’t concentrate. An ad for watches caught his eye. Wasn’t that the same brand Jane wore? He felt a rush of pure sexual desire as he pictured the gold band slipping up and down her slim, elegant wrist.
He imagined pressing a kiss to her wrist, then trailing his mouth along the length of her arm until he reached the delicate skin of her neck. Would she moan? Sigh?