Maybe Matt's Miracle

by Tammy Falkner

  “Stay,” she says softly.

  I shake my head, take her hands in mine, and unravel her fingers from my shirt, then set her back from me. “If it was just us, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me.”

  “But it’s not.”

  I shake my head. “Good night,” I say as I walk away.

  “’Night,” she calls to my retreating back.

  I go out the front door and groan loudly. I want to go back to her. But I also want to do this the right way.

  Skylar

  Matt’s barely out the front door when I call him. In fact, I can hear the ding of the elevator over the bad reception in the enclosed space when he answers me with nothing more than a groan.

  “Matt,” I say quietly.

  “What?” he bites out. But I can almost hear the lazy smile in his voice.

  “Come back.”

  He hisses out a breath. Then says quietly, “If you say the word come one more time…”

  My breath catches, and my heart starts to trip. “Matt.” I’m grinning like a fool, and I don’t care. My door is shut, and no one can see me.

  “Are you still topless?” Matt asks. His voice sounds like it’s been dragged down a gravel road and back.

  I look down and cross my arms over my naked breasts. I guess I am. “Yeah,” I say.

  He groans again. “Send me a picture.”

  “I’m a lawyer. We don’t do stupid shit like that.” Not to mention that I’m a mom. And moms don’t do that. I look down at my chest and unfurl my arms. “My nipples are hard.”

  “Sky!” he hisses, but he’s laughing, too. “Stop it.”

  “What’s wrong, Matt?” I tease. I hear him give his address to a cab driver. “Why are you taking a cab?” He usually takes the subway.

  “Because I want to get home quickly,” he says.

  “Why?” I put one knee on my bed and crawl to the center. I should probably put a shirt on, but I kind of like the naughty feeling of being topless while talking to Matt.

  “Because I want to talk you through an orgasm,” he says.

  “What?” I ask. My heart skitters.

  “You heard me.” He chuckles. “Unless you don’t want me to.” He waits for my answer.

  “I want you to,” I whisper.

  He hisses in a breath. “Talk to me about something else for a few minutes,” he says over a chuckle. I hear him groan and there’s silence, aside from street noises and a gentle sound when he starts to hum in my ear. I grin. I can’t help it.

  After a short ride, I hear him thank the cab driver and slam the car door. Then he’s quiet as he takes the four flights of stairs up to his apartment. He’s breathing a little heavier when he gets to the top, but not much.

  “Not now,” I hear him mutter to someone.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  “Paul.”

  “Do you need to go talk to him?”

  “All I need to do right now is make you come. He can wait.” I hear his keys clang as he drops them somewhere. Or maybe it’s change from his pocket. “Go lock your door,” he says.

  I scramble across the bed and do what he says. My hand hangs on the doorknob for a second as I think about what I’m about to do. A shiver runs up my spine, but I push the thumb lock. The click shimmers through my hand. I hold onto the doorknob for another second.

  “Good girl,” he says. His voice is smooth as silk, and it slides up my body, making my knees weak. “Go lie on the bed again.”

  “You’re kind of bossy.”

  “I know. You like it.”

  I do. “How would you know?”

  “Because you’re all wet and slippery and your heart is pounding just like mine is.” He waits a beat. “Isn’t it?”

  This is Matt. Of course, he cares about how I feel. “Yes,” I whisper.

  He growls. “Take off your bottoms.”

  I prop the phone between my shoulder and my ear and hook my thumbs in the hips of my pajama bottoms, then shove them down over my feet. “Okay,” I say.

  “Are you naked?”

  “As the day I was born,” I say over a nervous giggle.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because every time I close my eyes, you’re all I see. You’re in my fucking head, Sky, every minute of every day.”

  I was hot a minute ago, but now I’m breathless.

  “Did you tell me your nipples are hard?” His bed squeaks as he talks.

  “Are you in bed?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He grunts. “Or rather, on it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Good. Now back to your nipples.”

  “What about them?” I grin. I can’t help it.

  “I love them. They’re all pink and perfect, and when I kiss off all your lipstick, they’re the same shade as your lips.” He pauses. “Touch them.”

  “Touch them how?”

  “Not soft. Because they probably hurt, they’re so hard.” He waits. “Am I right?”

  “How did you know?”

  He chuckles, but it’s a pained sound. “Because I’m hurting, too, Sky.”

  “Oh.”

  “Pinch them lightly, both at the same time.” His breaths grow heavier.

  “Matt,” I whisper. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  I do it.

  “Now touch your nipples.”

  I gasp as I draw a thumb across the turgid peak.

  “God, Sky,” he whispers.

  Matt was right. The swipe of my thumb is not enough. I cup my breasts in my hands and pinch my nipples between my thumb and forefinger. I nearly drop the phone from where it’s crammed against my neck.

  “If I was there, I would pinch them and then lick the pain away.”

  “Matt.”

  “What?” He chuckles.

  “What are you doing?”

  He laughs again. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “The same thing I’m doing?”

  “Well, I don’t have pretty tits to play with, but yeah.”

  “How much longer before I can move down south?” I ask. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for him to laugh at me.

  But he doesn’t laugh. “Now.”

  “Thank God,” I breathe.

  “Draw your knees up and then let them fall open. Please.”

  I do as he says, and I feel all exposed, even though there’s no one in the room with me.

  “Such a pretty pussy,” he says. “Spread yourself open with your fingers so I can see.”

  My fingers part my slippery, wet folds, which are swollen and aching.

  “Good girl,” he says.

  “How do you know if I did it?”

  “Because I can hear it in your voice, Sky.”

  I can barely breathe.

  “I hear every hitch and every gasp. I even hear what you don’t want me to hear.”

  “Like what?”

  “I hear your fears. I hear your aches. I hear your wants and needs. I hear it all.”

  I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. “No one has ever heard me before.” A hot tear tracks slowly down the side of my face toward my hairline.

  “I hear everything.” He waits another beat. “Touch your pussy, Sky.”

  I slide my fingers through my wetness.

  “Dip inside and get your fingers wet.”

  “How many fingers?”

  He growls. “How many can you take?”

  I slide my middle finger inside and pump in and out, and then add my index finger. And just when I think I can’t stand it, I stretch myself open by adding my ring finger. I’m too full to crook my fingers, but I don’t care. “Three,” I tell him.

  “Jesus,” he breathes.

  “What do you want me to do now, Matt?”

  “Rub your clit.” He grunts, and I hear a slick sound on his end of the phone.

  “Are you using lube?”

  “Spit.” He grunts. “I
was in a hurry.”

  I rub my clit in a small circle. “I won’t last long,” I warn.

  “Thank God,” he growls.

  My clit is hard and swollen and oh so sensitive. My small circles just leave me wanting.

  “Faster,” he urges. “I need to hear you come.”

  “You waiting for me?” My breath stutters along with my heart.

  “Always,” he sighs.

  “Matt,” I cry out.

  “That’s right,” he urges. “Say my name.”

  “Matt, Matt, Matt,” I chant.

  “It’s me making you come, Sky. Only me.” His voice is low and soft and hits the very center of me.

  “Only you.”

  “Me. And you.”

  My legs quiver, and I know it’s time.

  “Sky,” he pleads. “Please come.”

  A moan leaves my throat as my body bows with pleasure.

  “Don’t stop,” he says. He grunts, and I can tell he’s coming, too. “Please don’t stop,” he begs.

  I cry out softly, my body racked with tremors.

  “Don’t stop,” he says, his voice growing softer.

  “Unh,” I groan. I have to stop. My clit is too sensitive, my body wrecked. I slow my fingers and let the small aftershocks take me. Sensitive and used, I stop rubbing my pussy and listen to him breathe.

  We sit like this for a moment, and then I hear him move.

  “Stay with me, Matt,” I say.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he says with a chuckle. “I just need to clean up. I’m kind of a mess.”

  “Oh,” I breathe over a laugh. Forgot about that.

  “Yeah,” he says. He moves around for a second, and then I hear his bed creak again. I imagine him settling back against the pillows, a content smile upon his face. “You okay?” he asks softly.

  “Mmm hmm,” I hum.

  He laughs. “And she’s speechless after that orgasm.”

  I giggle. I can’t help it. I’m naked lying on top of my covers, and he just talked me through an orgasm over the phone. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “Learn,” he says over a snort. “Shit, I’ve never done that before. That was all you.” He chuckles. “I can’t believe I let you corrupt me like that.”

  I can’t bite back my grin. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

  He yawns. “You couldn’t stop me.”

  ###

  I wake up and look over at the clock. It’s two a.m., and I’m naked and cold on top of the covers. I get up and put on my jammies, then go the bathroom and wash my hands. I look in the mirror. I shake my head. A few short weeks ago, I was a single girl living my single life with a boyfriend who didn’t care about me. Now I have three kids who I am learning to love beyond anything I ever imagined, and I have Matt. I never knew I could feel the way I feel for Matt about anyone. I kind of feel sorry for Phillip. He never got me to this point, and I never gave him what I’m willing to give Matt.

  I have this insatiable desire to go check on the girls. I walk down the hall and into their room. The night-light they can’t sleep without bathes the room in a soft glow. Mellie is on top of her covers, so I gently pull them from beneath her and cover her up. She snuffles into her pillow and rolls over. Joey rarely moves in her sleep, but I tug her covers up to her chin anyway. She doesn’t stir.

  I want to check on Seth, too, but he’s a teenage boy, and I worry about opening his door. I decide not to chance it.

  I walk into the living room and startle when I see a light on the end table turned on. Seth looks over his shoulder at me, closes the book he has open in his lap, and jams it into the cushions of the couch.

  “Everything okay?” I ask. I sit down on the other end of the sofa and draw my feet up under me.

  “Yeah.” I realize his eyes are wet, and he swipes a hand beneath his nose.

  “What were you looking at?” I ask. My heart breaks for him. He never did cry after his mom’s death, at least not that I could see.

  “Just some pictures,” he says without looking me in the eye.

  “Can I see?” I reach for the album, and he shrugs his shoulders. I pull it out and turn to the first page. Seth was adorable as a baby. I smile and look over at him. “You always had those dimples, huh?”

  He grins and scoots next to me on the couch.

  I look closer and see my dad in the album. My heart nearly stops. He has his arm around Kendra in a lot of the pictures, and he looks so comfortable with her. “Granddad was here a lot,” he says.

  I nod. I don’t know why that chokes me up, but it does.

  I turn the page. “Your mom was so beautiful.”

  “I know.” His shoulder touches mine, and he leans against me, pointing to a picture. “That’s my dad.”

  Well, that’s not what I was expecting. His dad is Latino.

  “He spoke Spanish to us all the time.”

  I look up at him. “You know Spanish?”

  He nods and turns the page. “That’s the man my Grandma eventually married. He was nice.”

  That’s the man who took my dad’s place.

  “How much do you know about all that?” I ask. I don’t know how much I can and can’t say around him.

  “Enough,” he says.

  “Your mom was smart and beautiful, huh?” I say, turning to a picture of her getting an award for something.

  He nods. “But she didn’t trust men.”

  “Men leave,” I say. But I want to bite the words back as soon as I say them.

  He shakes his head. “Not all of them.”

  I quietly flip through the book.

  “Matt wouldn’t leave,” he says quietly. “You should trust him.”

  I heave a sigh. “I do. As much as I can.”

  He nods. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll forget what she looks like,” he says softly.

  “Seth…” I don’t know if I should hug him or not, so I just lean more heavily into his side.

  “It’s okay. It has only been a few weeks, you know, and I can already feel her leaving.”

  I don’t say anything because I’m not sure he wants me to.

  “I thought it was bad when she was dying, but this saying good-bye to her afterwards…it’s the worst.”

  “You don’t have to say good-bye,” I tell him.

  “Every day, I have to remind myself she’s gone. I get up and I expect to find her in the kitchen working the crossword puzzle. Or cooking. Or dancing with Joey and Mellie. Or me.” He grins. “She loved to turn the music on and dance.”

  He waits while I flip pages. I see my dad in a lot of them. And that makes an ache in my chest that I can’t get rid of.

  “I can’t hear her voice anymore,” he whispers. “I want to hear her voice, Aunt Sky.” His own voice cracks, and he lays his forehead on my shoulder. A tremor runs through him.

  Screw it. I turn and wrap my arms around him. I don’t know how to do this because I’ve never had anyone do it for me. He pulls me close to him and sobs into my shoulder.

  When he’s finally quiet, I pat him on the back and sit back. I return to the album because he looks uncomfortable. “Life is like a book, Seth,” I tell him. “Just like the photo album. Pages go by, but you can turn back to them anytime, even when the last page has been read. All you have to do is open the book back up and pick a page to reread.” I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it sounds good.

  “If you could reread any page in your book, Aunt Sky, which one would it be?” he asks me softly.

  “This one,” I say. I’d relive this one over and over. I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. He doesn’t pull away.

  Matt

  I tug on my tie, trying to loosen the son of a bitch. I hate wearing a fucking tie. Logan pops his head into the room. “You about ready?” he asks.

  Logan is decked out in Madison Avenue clothes, which Emily’s mom sent over for all of us. Her mom likes to dress us up. And since her dad owns the company, we take full
advantage of it. Logan looks like he just walked off the page of a magazine. “Tell Emily to come tie this thing, will you?” I ask. He nods and goes to get her.

  She comes into the room, looking like a million bucks. She cleans up nicely. Usually she’s in combat boots and jeans. I remember when I met her and she wore a catholic schoolgirl outfit every day and had a blue streak in her hair. Now she totters over on her four-inch heels until she’s standing right in front of me. “You sure you want to go to this wedding?” she asks me softly as she starts to knot my tie.

  “I don’t see why not,” I say. I look down at her feet. “Are you sure you should be wearing those stilts? What if you trip?”

  She snorts. “I’m pregnant, Matt, not dying. Stop worrying. I swear, you’re worse than Logan.”

  “You want to put on some flatter shoes? It would make me feel better.”

  She pulls my tie up tight against my neck. “Since when do I care about making you feel better?” she asks, but she’s smiling gently at me.

  “Always. You started loving me the day you met me.”

  “You mean when you were puking your guts out?” she tosses back at me. She’s the only one who knew how sick I was back then. Or at least I thought she was. It turned out that all my brothers knew; they were just trying to keep it from me.

  “You brought me a bucket,” I remind her, and the thought makes me grin.

  “And ginger ale.”

  “And you snuggled with me on the couch.”

  She looks into my eyes. “And I still would if you’d let me.”

  “Em,” I groan.

  She holds up a hand to stop me. “I get it. I really do.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Do you?”

  She nods. “I do. And I’m so happy for you,” she says softly. “When do you go back for more blood work?” she asks. She’s the only one who has asked me this.

  “Next month,” I tell her. “How did you know?” I look at her as I arrange items on my dresser. I just want to keep my hands busy. I hate talking about cancer. I hate that it’s such a big part of my life.

  She shrugs. “I know you, Matt,” she says. “Do you want me to go with you?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “It’s just blood work, Em,” I tell her. Scary, life-changing blood work, but just a needle stick in the grand scheme of things.