Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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There's an unread text on my phone from Mattis.
Well, there are five unread texts sent at various times throughout the last week, which is, coincidentally, the same amount of time it's been since we kissed. Or he kissed me, or whatever.
This one, though, I can't keep ignoring. Because it relates to Janice and Chloé's arrival this afternoon.
Mattis' mother and sister are flying in to spend the weekend with the two of us, which would have been fine if it weren't for the fact that I don't think I can look at him without bursting into flames. Chloé is going to take one look at me and know something is up.
I shudder to think what she'll do if she figures it out.
I send Mattis a text, telling him I'll meet them at the restaurant tonight instead of going to the airport with him. Is it the coward's way out? Yes, yes, it is. Maybe I should take the opportunity to clear the air before his family's visit, but if his texts are any indication, he does not remember what happened at that party. Not the fight or the kiss. And I would very much like to keep it that way.
My hands slip on the wheel several times as I drive to the restaurant. My palms are clammy, anxiety shooting up my spine every couple of seconds. This is a recipe for disaster.
Once I've parked the car, internally groaning over the high prices for parking in the city, I text Emmy. Ava is out of town, but I know he'll be around.
Me: SOS, I need a buffer this weekend. Matt's mom and sister are here, and there's a 70% possibility it'll all blow up.
Emmy: 🙄🙄
Climbing out of my car, I walk towards the restaurant with somewhat steady legs.
I spot them at a table in the back, but before I can do anything, a ball of curly blond hair throws itself at me.
"Cat!" she squeals, and for a second, I don't care that we're in a restaurant full of people and are acting like children because, by God, I've missed her.
"Chlo!" I pick her up and swing her around, which is easy because she is so small.
Once we're done hugging, I take a second to just look at her. Resting against her collarbone is the butterfly necklace she got for her eighteenth birthday, and she's wearing a blue summer dress, looking just as tanned as always. However, her legs are clad in thick tights, and she's wearing a cardigan. Chloé does not do cold.
She hasn't changed one bit. I wish I could say the same.
I break eye contact, dragging Chloé towards the table with an arm around her shoulder before she has the chance to give me that knowing look that will make me spill my guts all over the wooden floor.
Janice is sitting at the table, watching us with a fond look.
"Cat, it's so good to see you," she says, engulfing me in a hug. This kind of embrace is what I equate most with the affection of a parent. Too bad I haven't experienced much of that from my actual parents.
