If Only She'd Loved Him

Chapter 45

Saturday 10:00 am

Minutes after Jean left, Matt was ready to apologize. He started a quick search of the apartment, hoping she was just sitting on the sofa or at the table, but she was nowhere to be seen. He was mad at himself.  He hadn't meant to come down so hard on her. It had just been shock, he told himself. He still wasn't sure why he'd gotten so upset. Whoever Jean dated had nothing to do with him, but there had been moments, flashes where he'd seen a girl he was starting to really care about. The way she stood up to Paul, the way she stuck to her story, ludicrous as it was, the way she had had the guts to tell him the truth. And what had he done after she'd told him? He'd slammed the door in her face. Damn! Matt thought again, damn!

He was no angel, either. Hell a certain sophomore with a penchant for whipped cream and vodka could attest to that and yet he'd condemned Jean for a lousy one night stand.  Of course, he'd never slept with anybody his roommate was dating, but Jean hadn't known, couldn't have known, that Paul would date Megan. Should she have told Megan about what happened between her and Paul? Maybe. Maybe not. Megan was her roommate, not her confessional. Matt kept plenty of secrets from Paul because they were his business, nobody else's. Hell, he'd checked out Megan himself and hadn't been disappointed. Was he going to let that slip to Jean? Of course not.

Matt rubbed his hands through his hair so hard his scalp tingled. What he didn't understand was, after all she'd been through, why Jean still acted like she was attracted to Paul. He hadn't missed the way she had lingered over his rugby shirt. Not to mention the venom in her voice when she talked about him. Obviously she had unresolved issues. But so did Haverson. It was like he wanted to start a war with Jean. What had happened anyway? Was there still something between them?

Matt got distracted from his thoughts by a hum from his cell. Too late to answer it, he listened to the message. It was Kelli. He heard her giggle as she realized that she had called the wrong guy. Matt listened in irritation. Could she be a bigger ditz? She also had the most annoying voice he'd ever heard. Not only was it a nasal nightmare, but the drawl which simpered out of those lungs could be heard miles away, and that was with some good ole cotton shoved up your ears. He knew what Paul saw in her, saw it himself and appreciated her for it, but date Miss Georgia Cantaloupes, no way. Matt wasn't in a good mood. He kicked at Paul's door by way of wishing him a good morning.

"Get up. Kelli wants to meet you for lunch at noon."

"Who?" Paul asked, his voice muffled by the door.

"Kelli. You know Kelli with an i," Matt mocked, mimicking Kelli's voice, "'I' like in ice cream. Y'all like to eat ice cream don't y'all, Paul?"

"Shut up." Paul called through the door but Matt wasn't listening. A light bulb had just gone off in his head, one which obliterated Kelli with an i, his fight with Jean, even Jean and Paul together. Nothing made Matt happier than to realize how smart he was.

"Taylor? Taylor?" Paul spoke to the air. Getting no answer, he got up and entered the living room. Matt was sitting in a chair, grinning like a maniac, repeating something over and over. Paul took the initiative and snapped him with a towel from his dirty laundry.

"What are you going on about?" he demanded, coiling his towel for a second attack.

"That's it! That has to be it! If I could do her, then he could have done you!" Without looking over his shoulder, he automatically reached up his arm to block Paul's next shot, stealing the towel in the process. "I figured it out!" he gloated, slapping his fist into his thigh. "I know how that Erik guy did your voice. He used Megan's voice mail. I'm so brilliant."

"Not so fast. How'd he access it?" Paul demanded.

Matt snorted. "That's easy. He had a key to their apartment, right? That had to give him a few opportunities. And even if it didn't, all he had to do was punch in the right number."

Paul listened, nodding his head, but he was a born litigator. Arguing came naturally to him. "How'd he get the password then?"

"C'mon, they dated, remember? Knowing Megan, I'll bet you almost anything it has something to do with the French Revolution. Look at her journal, the girl was obsessed."

Paul had heard enough. In less than a minute, he reached into his jeans and pulled out his phone.  He entered Megan's number, waited for the beep then tried 71489.

"Not enough digits," Matt said, leaning over his shoulder "Try the whole year."

Paul tried again, 7141789.

"You have ten messages." All of them were from Jean asking Megan to call her back.n

Paul jumped up. "Taylor, you are a genius!"

"I try," Matt replied, getting up off his chair. "C'mon, let's go tell Jean you're off the hook." There was something in Matt's voice when he said Jean's name. It sounded sour, like he'd bit into an apple and found a nice green worm. Paul didn't know what had happened between the two of them last night.  He looked at the sofa, a sleeping bag lay on its end.  So Jeanie didn't get her man?  He was surprised at how pleased he was by that observation.  But something had definitely happened.  The question was how much did he need to cover himself?

"Look, about Jeanie—" he began.

"She already told me," Matt cut him off. "Well, she told me enough. Let's just forget it, till we find your girlfriend, then—" he half-smiled. That would be a conversation Haverson would be lucky to live through. "the three of you can talk."

Paul shrugged. "Whatever. Thanks."

"Forget it."

Matt got dressed fast, anxious to meet up with Jean and tell her in person what they'd discovered. But by the time Paul had wolfed down a power breakfast bar, it was 10:45 in the morning. Jean, wrapped in steam, didn't hear Matt pounding on her door. The note he slid under her door was simple: Paul didn't have anything to do with it. Call me. It's important, Matt.