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The smirk grin faded a bit. “Ask,” he said.
“Is she okay? Did you learn anything from working with her that will help us help her?”
He straightened. His smile was different this time. Warm and sincere. “Yes. I asked her to draw the hospital room. Having kids draw their environment is a good way to get a glimpse into their feelings.”
“And what did Ava show you?”
“Well. She drew the bed very small and the windows very large. Which can mean she feels overwhelmed by being here and she wants to escape. But she also drew herself smiling and surrounded by her parents and family. Which means that she feels safe and loved. I think she’s going to be just fine.”
Lena nodded. “Did you talk to her mother about this?”
“Yep. You’ve got a nice family, Ms. Reyes. I’m glad I got to help them out.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled up at him. A moment. This was a real moment. Then his smile twisted back to that little sideways grin and the glint came back into his eyes. “If only I could have helped you out with that scene in the hall. If you’d drawn that for me, my assessment would be that you were being set up.”
And moment over. She gave him her most vicious glare and arched an eyebrow. “Why? Were you jealous?” Venom still dripping from the words, she turned and stomped down the hallway, putting a little extra swish in it just to give him a show.
His laughter followed her. “You are surely something, Ms. Reyes.”
Humph. Just how much of something, you’ll never know. She turned the corner and flipped her hand dismissively in his general direction.
* * *
MATT WATCHED HER sashay down the hall. Because she wanted him to watch. Still smiling, he shook his head and entered the playroom. She was something. Hot. Cold. Smart. Sexy. Let it go, dude. A woman like that isn’t to be trifled with. And he had too much on his plate right now to take on the likes of Ms. Reyes.
As he set up the table where he’d lead a session with several of his regular kids, his mind drifted back. Not to Lena, but the entire family. They’d shown up in force. Ava was never alone for a moment. When he was five, his nanny had taken him to the hospital when he’d had his tonsils out. When he developed a complication and had to stay overnight, she left at 6:00 p.m. The maid was supposed to stay with him, but never showed up. His parents were in London. He’d been terrified. And after that, he’d spent several scary nights alone in the hospital with asthma attacks.
Shake it off, man. But he wondered. What would it be like to come from such a family, full of loud laughter and love? And how did that family forge someone as guarded as Lena?
“Mr. Matt! Mr. Matt!”
He turned toward the voice with a smile. Clarissa. Dr. Rutledge’s granddaughter. With her was a tall woman, whose red hair matched the wisps of hair still clinging to Clarissa’s little head. She was being dragged by the hand across the playroom.
“Hey there, pretty girl. You seem mighty perky today. And you’re the first to arrive, which means you get to be my assistant.”
He shifted his attention to the woman beside Clarissa. He held out a hand. “Matt. Are you Clarissa’s mother?”
The woman laughed. “No. Although you aren’t the first to make that guess.”
“This is my aunt Logan, Matt. She’s visiting me and I wanted to show her the playroom.” Clarissa looked up at Logan. “I told you he was cute!”
Logan blushed and Matt felt a little heat on his own face. Here he’d been teasing Lena about an ambush setup and now he was the victim of one. “Logan,” he said. “Might you be the daughter who was asked to leave several deportment classes?”
Her laugh echoed through the playroom. “Indeed I am. How did that conversation ever come up?”
“I think it was my confession to having been in a similar situation.”
Clarissa grabbed his hand. “What are we doing today, Mr. Matt?”
“We’re going to make Halloween decorations. So we are going to need construction paper, glue and scissors. Do you know where they are stored?”
“I do,” Clarissa said seriously. She turned to her aunt. “Promise me you won’t leave.”
“I promise.” They watched Clarissa open the supply cabinet. “I’m sorry about this. She just said she wanted to show me the playroom.”
“It’s okay. She’s a good kid. Has a lot of fight in her.”
“That she gets from me.”
There was something in her stance. The slight nuance of her voice. Matt grinned. “Baa, baa,” he said.
“Black sheep,” Logan returned with her own grin.
They did a fist bump. “May we ever run free,” he said. “Hang out awhile. No need for you to miss out on time with Clarissa while she’s doing this.”
She glanced at her watch. “I really need to go. Clarissa, come give me a hug and kiss. I have to go back to work.”
Clarissa wrapped her arms around Logan’s abdomen. “Will you bring me a dessert?”
“Tomorrow, Mini-Me,” Logan said as she kissed the top of Clarissa’s head.
Clarissa looked up at Matt. “Aunt Logan is a pastry chef. She makes the best desserts ever in the whole world.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You two should go on a date.”
“Clarissa! That’s not very polite,” Logan said.
“Why? You’re my favorite aunt. He’s my favorite hospital person.”
Matt held back laughter. He looked thoughtfully at the little girl. “Would it make you happy if we went on a date?”
“Yes.”
Matt pulled over a chair and sat down to be at eye level. “What if we go on the date and we just want to be friends instead of boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Clarissa shrugged. “I don’t care. I just think you should go on a date.”
“Okay then,” he said. “Go finish getting the supplies ready.”
As she skipped away, he turned to Logan. “So we’ll go on a date.” He made air quotes.
Logan smiled and held out a hand. “Deal. But just so you know, this really isn’t a date.”
“I understand. But I’m new in town. A little short on friends. We’ll talk about the lives of black sheep and Clarissa will feel like she did something good for us.”
Logan looked back to where Clarissa was rummaging through the supply cabinet. Her eyes filled with sadness. “I just want her to have a date of her own someday.”
“She will. She’s a fighter. Like her favorite aunt.”
Logan laughed. “I’m her only aunt. Give me your number and we’ll arrange a time for this date.”
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_45da31cf-2fbb-54c0-996e-0b43292e20da)
“A LITTLE FARTHER off our beaten path,” Lena said as she slid into the booth at The Glass Onion. She and Sadie usually met in the Avondale area for their weekly Wednesday-night dinners.
“I was craving shrimp and grits.”
“They serve wine here?”
“Yes. So, you seem to be in a better mood than last week. Did your family let you off the hook after the what-was-his-name fiasco?”
“No. I have another date on Saturday. This time with a doctor that my aunt Paula set me up with.” She smiled. A pretty, vacuous smile. “I’m just going to spend the entire night making this face.”
They gave the waitress their order. Two shrimp and grits and a bottle of chardonnay. Sadie leaned back in the booth and looked at her.
“What?”
“I just feel like this is my fault.”
Lena shook her head. “No, it isn’t.”
“But it is, Lena.” Sadie leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table. “Do I need to get some shots and make you sister swear?”
Lena looked down at the table and spun her napkin wrapped silverware in a circle. Thing was, Sadie was right. But she wasn’t going to be the one to rain on her wedding. Sadie’s hand covered hers.
“Lena.”
“Okay. Yes. No. It’s complicated.”
Sadie laughed, drawing the eyes of a couple of men sitting nearby. “I’d expect no less from you than complicated. Look. I’ve got some conflicted feelings about this too. You were always the one who wanted to find the guy and get married. Have kids and all that junk. Not me.”
“Yet, here you are, deliriously happy. Wedding planning. Instant family.”
“Yes. And I feel guilty about it sometimes.”
Lena frowned and leaned forward to take both Sadie’s hands in hers. “Look at me, Sades.” When Sadie’s dark blue eyes met hers, she squeezed her hands. “Don’t do that. Never. I am beyond happy for you. You are more than my best friend. You’re my sister.”
A weak smile trembled on Sadie’s lips. “But still. I just fell into this and now your family is driving you crazy.”
“And that’s my problem. Not yours. Your problem is that my mother is trying to hijack your wedding plans.”
Sadie sat back with a groan. “That’s the truth. Have you seen her Pinterest board? It’s like Catholic tradition met upscale elegance and had a country-kitsch baby. It’s a horror show.”
“Can you imagine how she’s going to be if I get married?”
“When you get married. Tell me about this date.”
Their wine arrived and Lena poured a healthy glassful. “I don’t know. He’s a doctor. Cuban by the accent, I think. Sort of cute. Seemed embarrassed that Paula ambushed us both.”
“Are you going to be nice? Not rip his throat out in the first five minutes like you did with poor what’s-his-name?”
Taking a long sip of wine, Lena arched an eyebrow. “Maybe,” she said.
But Sadie didn’t laugh. A small frown crossed her features. “Come on. Sister, truth—you can be very intimidating. And sometimes you use it like a weapon. Especially with men.”
“Men piss me off more than anyone else.”
She meant it to come out snarky, but even she couldn’t deny the undercurrent of anger in her words. She didn’t know why it was true. But it was. If it wasn’t some white dude trying to satisfy a Latina fetish, it was some jerk trying to assert dominance.
“Because you let them do that, Lena. You jump on anything. One misspoken word. One perceived insult and you come out swinging.”
“Now you’re being irritating.”
“I don’t care,” Sadie said, pouring more wine into her glass. “You told me a lot of things I didn’t want to hear. Your turn.”
“So what do you want me to do? Be nice when some guy asks me if it’s true that Latina women are hot in bed?”
“No. That guy you can eviscerate. But yeah, be nice. Give a guy a chance to prove himself.”
Lena looked up gratefully as the waitress brought their food. “Thank you,” she said. Unrolling her silverware, she concentrated on the shrimp and grits. Okay. Mean. Not the first time I’ve heard that. I’m not mean. I just don’t play games. She sighed and dropped her spoon to the plate. “I’m mean.”
“No. You can be. But you aren’t mean. Not the real you. It’s just a wall you put up. See who’s brave enough to scale it.”
“I’m a bitch.”
“A strong, independent woman who has overcome obstacles that would have crippled most men. Successful. Beautiful. Savvy.”
“I’m a mean bitch.”
“Lena. Stop it. Listen to me. You are not a mean bitch. You just play one on dates.”
That made her smile. It hurt to look at it, but it was true. She had left a long trail of bleeding men behind her. She ate a few more bites of shrimp. Thinking back, most of them hadn’t been bad guys but she always managed to find something wrong with them. Maybe it is me. Maybe I make up reasons to push them away. More like send them running away.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Sadie said. “Just like there was nothing wrong with me. You just haven’t met your guy yet.”
Lena shook her head. “No. That’s not it. I don’t think I can do the serious relationship thing. I’m too much of a control freak. I have to be in charge. But then I don’t like a man who lets me be in charge. And then I get furious when a man tries to be in charge. See?”
“That’s because being in charge isn’t part of a healthy relationship, Lena. Being equal partners is.”
Snagging her wineglass and leaning back in her seat, Lena mulled over those words. Equal partners. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I think I have a trust problem.”
“Trust as in ‘depend on’?” Sadie asked.
