MATT HAD NO IDEA how he and Phyllis had ended up sitting on her front step as the afternoon waned. He’d walked her to her door after their trip, she’d asked a question about the presentation he’d helped her with earlier that semester—said she was hoping to have a video made of it for some of her peers who’d attended the symposium. One comment led to another and suddenly, almost an hour later, he became aware of himself sitting there, having a real give-and-take adult conversation for the first time in years.
They still hadn’t broached the reason he’d called this meeting. And he wasn’t sure how, exactly, he should bring up the subject.
“What about dating?” he suddenly blurted as her questions about lighting-design techniques finally dwindled.
“No!” she exclaimed, her shoulders straightening, bringing her breasts into relief against the black velour covering them. “We already agreed there’ll be no involvement between us,” she added with a little less agitation.
Matt could almost feel the effort it took her to appear unaffected. So the good doctor had secrets, too.
“I meant you dating,” he said slowly, wondering just what those secrets might be. “Not us.”
“Oh.” She paused, her shoulders relaxing as she wrapped her arms around her knees. “Well, not that it’s any business of yours, but I don’t.”
“Don’t date?” If he wasn’t so detached, he might’ve been shocked. “Ever?”
“Nope.”
“Why the hell not?”
She pierced him with a look he’d have been hard-pressed not to challenge in another life. “This may come as a surprise to you, but not every woman needs a man in her life to be happy.” Her eyes dared him to argue with her.
“No, I guess lesbians don’t.”
“I’m not a lesbian.”
“I’m fully aware of that.”
She blushed. Looked away.
Matt bit back a grin.
And then quickly sobered as he remembered he wasn’t there to enjoy himself.
“It occurred to me yesterday that this…situation we’ve created makes any relationship you are…or hope to be involved in…difficult. Romantically speaking.”
Smooth, Sheffield. Spit that one right out.
“No problem there.”
“Oh.” Matt nodded, waiting for the relief he was going to be feeling any second. “Good.”
What the hell did that mean—No problem there? That she was in a relationship—one that had moved beyond dating—and the man was willing to take on Matt’s baby? Or that she’d really been speaking of herself and not just hypothetically when she’d said a woman didn’t need a man in her life to be happy?
A family, all wearing helm
ets and gloves with their sweatshirts and jeans, rode by on bikes, two adult-size and two child-size, one with training wheels. Matt and Phyllis watched silently. He wondered if things were as perfect inside that family’s house as they appeared on the outside.
“So, you really doing okay?” he asked Phyllis as the family rode slowly around the corner and out of sight.
“I really am.”
“You’re sure?”
She turned to look at him, her soft green eyes filled with question. “I’m sure,” she told him. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
Matt shrugged, gazing out at the street. With his forearms resting on his knees, his black leather jacket open, allowing the evening chill to penetrate the thin cotton of his button-down shirt, he contemplated the wisdom of answering her question.
“I guess because I’m having a little trouble with things myself,” he finally said.