it.”
“Oh, Catherine.”
She finally looked up and saw the censure mixed with sympathy. He shifted in his chair and continued to fix her with that clear gaze, made all the more powerful when seen through his wire-rimmed glasses. The seconds ticked by, echoed by the old grandmother clock that stood in one corner of her office.
“All right, enough of the stare-down. I know I need to talk to him.” Her voice was scratchy and she cleared her throat. “I will. I just need a little more time.”
Brian nodded once, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Fine. I’ll give you a week.”
“Brian—”
He held up one hand to interrupt her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t want to hear it, Catherine. You know as well as I do that you’ll keep putting off telling him, just like you’re putting off living your life. You need the pressure of a deadline hanging over your head. Consider me your deadline. And speaking of living life…” He lifted a bulky package covered with the red and blue tape of a delivery service. “Are you ever going to open this? It’s been sitting out there with your name on it for two days. The staff is dying, wondering what the ever-dependable Dr. Wilson is ignoring.”
Catherine shrugged, feigning indifference. She had seen the package delivered, had even made the mistake of signing for it before she realized what it was. She had tossed it onto the outside desk as soon as she had seen the sender’s name.
“Who says I’m ignoring anything?”
Brian tossed the package onto the desk, where it landed with a gentle smack in the middle of the papers she had just finished stacking. “Then open it.”
“I don’t need to open it.” She pushed it to the side, only to have Brian push it back.
“Don’t you want to see what’s in it?”
“No, not really.” She picked it up and threw it back at him. Brian wasn’t ready for the sudden move and raised his hands in an attempt to ward off the flying missile, deflecting it to protect his face. The package landed at his feet.
“Hmm.” Brian stared down at his feet, then looked back at her, his eyebrows raised in question. Catherine covered her mouth with her hand to hide her embarrassed smile.
“Brian, I am so sorry.”
He waved away her muffled apology and bent down to retrieve the package. He held it out to her, daring her with his eyes to take it, promising dire consequences if she didn’t. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost swear you were afraid to open it.”
The challenge was clear in his voice and Catherine knew she’d never hear the end of it if she refused. Suddenly irritated with herself, she yanked the package from his hand and violently ripped it open. A fluff of light blue material fell to her desk, followed by a crisp white envelope.
Brian released a low whistle as he pulled the material from her desk and held it up. The fluff turned out to be a jersey emblazoned with the logo of the Baltimore Banners, including Nathan’s name and number. Her heart twisted when she realized it was Nathan’s actual jersey, not a replica.
“Not bad. Matty’ll get a kick out of this. Wish Nathan would have sent me one. These things are a hot commodity right now. Especially with the way the Banners are playing.” Brian motioned to the envelope. “What’s in there?”
“Probably tickets.” She thrust the envelope into his outstretched hand, ignoring the fact that her fingers trembled. “Here. You take them.”
Brian looked at her questioningly then opened the envelope. He studied the contents then looked back at her, a glint in his eyes. Catherine involuntarily pushed away from the desk.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost swear that you did something to Nathan Conners when he was in here the other day.”
“What? Why? What’s in there?”
“Two tickets for very, very good seats. On the ice. And I mean, on the ice. You can’t buy these seats anywhere—they’re saved for special promotions and businesses.”
Catherine’s throat closed up. She hadn’t expected him to follow through with his promise of tickets, had done her best creative thinking to come up with excuses to tell Matty so he wouldn’t be disappointed when the time came. Now here they were. And not just the tickets, but a jersey, as well. Catherine knew Matty would melt with excitement when he saw them.
“I—I didn’t think…why don’t you take him, Brian? I can’t really see myself at a hockey game.”
“Since when? I mean, I know you don’t follow the players or anything, but I’ve seen you watching with Matty. I think you should go. It’ll be a fun night out for both of you, which is something you definitely need.”
“No, I can’t. I didn’t think he’d send the tickets.” Catherine fought the heat that spread across her face as Brian studied her. He neatly folded the jersey and placed the tickets on top, then crossed his arms and stared at her.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on. I just don’t like the idea of some kid jock sending these things to Matty because he feels guilty.” Catherine inwardly winced at her tone of voice, wondering why she sounded so bitter and cold, knowing she had no reason to feel that way.
“Wait a minute.” Brian leaned across the desk and grabbed one of her hands. “Number one, Nathan is twenty-nine, only a year younger than you. Hardly a kid. Number two, I can’t see him doing anything out of guilt. Number three, why would he feel guilty in the first place?”
Catherine pulled her hand free and gently played with the folds of the jersey in front of her. “Because he made some crack about being confined to a wheelchair then happened to see me with Matthew a few minutes later. Matty knew who he was right away and had to drag me over to get his autograph. That’s the only reason he sent this stuff.”
She squirmed under Brian’s gaze, realized she was still fingering the jersey and quickly sat back. To her own ears, the reply sounded stiff and immature, a complete overreaction, but she didn’t know how to phrase it any differently. There was something about the whole situation—the way he had acted with Matty, the jersey, the tickets…it was too good to be true. She didn’t believe in good fortune, not anymore.
“As far as the wheelchair comment, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that he wouldn’t go to all this trouble just out of guilt. Listen, Catherine, I don’t know Nathan that well, but he is a nice guy. I think you should just take the tickets and go. Matty would enjoy it, and so would you.”
Forget about what happened. How could Catherine explain how that single, haphazard comment had biased her against everything else? The careless way he had let it pass renewed the pain she had felt when they had first told her Matty’s leg would need to be amputated. She pushed a strand of hair away from her face and sighed, knowing she would never be able to make Brian understand how much that single comment had hurt her.
“Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” There was a brief pause as Brian studied the tickets then thrust them into her hand. “I hope you
