False Start by Barbara Valentin Read Free Book Online

Damn the assignment, damn the raise, damn her career.
    But then she noticed his face.
    No longer a mirror image of Eddie, Nick's countenance had become leaner and harder since the wedding-that-wasn't, reflecting a wound she couldn't see and a scar for which she could not take credit. Not entirely.
    Suspecting that the arrogant, smug, carefree Olympian she mistook for her fiancé the day before her ill-fated wedding was long gone, she stashed her verbal daggers and softened her tone, just a touch.
     "Come with me."
    The two walked to the elevators with all of the solemnity of school children facing a detention after a visit to the principal's office. They descended in brooding silence as they made their way to the lifestyle section floor that held a steadily shrinking staff and one reluctant advice columnist—all of whom were under Dianne's domain.
    When they reached Mattie's desk, she pointed to an extra chair.
    "Have a seat."
    Within the confines of her cubicle walls, she watched as he studied the pre-school artwork pinned to them. He seemed to fixate on the drawing of a Thanksgiving turkey with blue and orange feathers glued to it that her nephew had made for her.
    After a very long minute, his gaze drifted to the framed photographs of her faux family.
    Emitting a short laugh, Nick bit his lip, shook his head, and said, "I can't believe you're married."
    Mattie started twirling her ring with her left thumb. She arched her eyebrow so high it nearly touched her hairline. "Why? Because you can't imagine anyone ever falling in love with someone like me?"
    Nick stared at her and pursed his lips. Pointing to a picture on her desk, he asked, "Is that the lucky guy?"
    Mattie frowned at the picture of her brother-in-law, Tom, grinning like he was indeed the luckiest guy on the planet. She had taken the shot in the bleachers at Wrigley Field on opening day twelve years before, just seconds after Claudia had agreed to marry him.
    When she didn't respond, Nick prodded, "Does he have a name?"
    Cool as a cucumber, Mattie suggested, "How 'bout we keep this strictly business. You coach. I write. Nothing more. Okay?"
    Narrowing his eyes, Nick thought for a moment and then said, "Sure."
    Eager to change the subject, she asked, "What did you want to talk about?"
    Something in the pit of her stomach told her it wouldn't be complimentary.
    Nick clenched his jaw and scooted his chair closer to hers. "Listen, I can't change what happened, you know, before ."
    He spoke in a voice so low, Mattie found herself leaning closer just so she could hear him, oblivious to the fact that it afforded him a generous view of her newly-exposed cleavage.
    Pointing to Tom's beaming smile, Nick continued, "You've clearly moved on with your life, and I'd like to do the same. I'm willing to keep the past in the past if you are."
    When he locked his eyes on hers, she felt as if he were trying to erase every memory she ever had of him always getting in the way of her quest to win Eddie's heart, all the way back to the third grade.
    But there was one memory that even his smoldering gaze couldn't melt away.
    As if it had just happened yesterday, she could picture herself searching the playground for Eddie, hoping for a response to a homemade Valentine's Day card she had snuck in his desk, but Nick spotted her first. Dressed as usual in a blue shirt as opposed to the red shirts Eddie always wore, Nick approached and handed her a note.
    "It's from Eddie. I didn't read it. I swear."
    When she tore it from his hand and unfolded it, she saw the words, "There once was a girl named Mattie who looked like a great big fatty" scrawled in pencil across the page.
    Luckily for Nick, he was the only boy who could outrun her; otherwise, she would've socked him. As fate would have it, she finally got her chance twenty years later.
    While Mattie was reliving the past, Nick had moved onto a different subject.
    "I didn't realize you worked here. In fact, I haven't seen your byline