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For the rest of the morning, she was forced to finish the favors while they made idle chit chat and gossiped about which publicist had done what to which celebrity. The normal hallmarks of their conversations, really. But deep underneath, she knew that Andy, like her, was stewing over what they'd discussed. Was wondering what the right thing to do really was. Was hoping she'd made the right choice.
But unlike Andy, Shay also had to worry about her place in all this. And, unlike Andy, she wasn't torn about the choice.
Matt had a right to know about his mother. He needed to have the chance to heal and to grow. He deserved to know that he might have more brothers and sisters.
But whether it was her place to tell him?
Well, that was less certain.
* * *
That night, Matt stared down at the text from his personal trainer and then chucked his phone onto his bedside table without responding.
It was a courtesy note—one of many he'd received in the last month—letting him know that the physical therapy part of his training would soon be coming to an end. Of course, to the trainer, this was always cause for saying things like "congratulations" and "new chapter," but hell if Matt saw it that way.
Once this training was over and he was a normal athlete again, there'd be nothing keeping him from majors but his own stupid drive. He wanted it, too. Wanted it even worse than he had the first time because now he knew what it was like to be a pro. What it was like to belong on a team and hear the crowd shouting his name. He missed it. Needed it.
But that didn't change the way his wrist felt.
He rolled it once, waiting to hear the tiny "click" that always sounded when he'd moved it full circle. It was like hearing his own heart break every time.
He picked up the phone again, hovered his thumb over the little digital keyboard, but stopped short when he heard the muffle of Shay's voice through the wall.
"Hey," she'd said.
No, it wasn't a muffle this time. It was clear. So clear that it felt like he was practically in the room with her.
&nbs
p; He should probably leave. Go to the living room and let her have her conversation in private. But then... what if she was talking to someone about his career? He deserved to hear that kind of call, didn't he?
"No, no, I've been trying to get back to you," she said.
Then, with a slight twinge of exasperation, and she added, "I promise."
There was a long pause, and Matt moved from beneath his sheets in order to press his ear to the wall, tossing his phone onto the mattress, forgotten.
"No, it's nothing like that. You have to trust me."
Damn, did this woman only speak in vaguenesses? How was anyone supposed to get a good eavesdropping in?
"I'm sure he is."
He strained his ears. She said he. That could be him. Was probably—
"I never had a problem with Steven. I barely knew him."
Steven? Matt's gut twisted. Who the hell was Steven? Maybe some other client. Or maybe, just maybe, she was on the phone with a girlfriend, chatting about some one night stand or another.
It wasn't outside the realm of possibility, after all. Men flocked to Shay Meyers wherever she went, and with good reason. She was incredible from head to toe. The kind of woman who ate men up and spit them out without a second thought. A real ball buster.
"I think you're not being completely honest with me, either." A small pause and then, "No, I think you're lonesome. I know how you sound. I know how that goes—"
Apparently, the person cut her off, because Shay's voice stopped short. And then, "Mom, I'm not avoiding, I swear. I'm just really busy."
Mom. She was on the phone with her mom.
He slid back down onto the bed. He should have felt relieved, really. The less calls Shay was on about his fate, the better. Still, he wasn't completely settled.
