Yet he’d done just that with Ari.
In one moment he’d snapped, and he hadn’t just sounded like his father—he’d actually turned into him. As Noah had raced down the hill, Matt’s brain had played out all the terrible things that might happen, and he’d slammed Ari with all his fear, his anger, his pain. He’d slammed his son as well, and stripped the joy from his accomplishment.
“But he’s not ready,” he whispered.
Only, no one heard.
Especially not Ari.
He should have been packing up a bag with Noah’s swim stuff for the barbecue. But it was the last thing he wanted to do. Because without Ari, nothing seemed right. With her gone, all the sweetness that had filled his life for these few brief weeks was gone too. He wasn’t even sure he could get Noah out of his room without dragging him.
If he and Noah went to the barbecue alone, the Mavericks would ask where Ari was, and he’d have to explain that she was gone. And he’d have to do it as he remembered every warm, wonderful thing she’d done since she’d come into their lives—how good she was with Noah, the games she played with him, the look of love on her face when she hugged him. And the look on her face as she and Matt made love, the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips…
No. He couldn’t let himself remember. Not when it would only make him crazy.
He was a Maverick—which meant he was a master of self-control. He would force himself to forget. Just as he’d force himself to go to the barbecue. Because if he didn’t, it would be akin to admitting his behavior hadn’t been justified.
Noah wasn’t ready. He just wasn’t.
Yet somewhere deep inside, Matt could hear Ari’s voice asking if maybe Matt was the one who wasn’t ready. Who was he really protecting, his son…or himself?
Was that why he’d gone from ultimate happiness to inimitable rage in the space of five seconds? Why he’d been powerless to stop his reaction when the only thing he saw was Noah’s crushed body? Because he didn’t trust himself to keep his son safe?
Damn it. He shoved the questions away, telling himself for the millionth time that he knew what was best for his son.
Matt looked at his watch. It was time to go to the party. He was taking Noah. And they would have a good time whether they wanted to or not.
Ruthlessly, he tamped down the thought that nothing would ever be any good again without Ari.
As far as Matt was concerned, the day was too damn nice for early November, the sun bright, not a cloud floating anywhere. Noah put on his swim trunks and came out of his room without a fight, but he’d been uncharacteristically silent on the drive over. Who knew a kid could dish out the silent treatment so well?
Thankfully Noah came back to life as he ran to Charlie, chattering about dinosaurs. “I want to see the T-Rex, Aunt Charlie.”
Charlie was seated in a deck chair by the pool next to Harper, while Will relaxed beside them on a lounger, still fully clothed, his hands stacked behind his head. Jeremy, wearing a pair of orange trunks that were so neon you had to shade your eyes, sat on the pool’s edge, dangling his feet in the water.
“Hold on, buddy,” Sebastian called to Noah. “We’ll all take a walk down to Charlie’s studio after we eat. You’ll see the T-Rex then.” He was already firing up the barbecue.
“Where’s your future mother-in-law?” Matt asked, a preemptive strike against any questions Sebastian might have about Ari.
“I sent my driver, so Francine will be here in half an hour or so. She gets a kick out of it, says the limo ride makes her feel like a queen.” Sebastian didn’t miss a beat before asking, “Where’s Ariana?”
Silently cursing that his diversionary tactic hadn’t worked, Matt said, “She couldn’t make it.”
Because I yelled and made her cry. Because she’s gone and she isn’t coming back.
“Too bad.” Sebastian slid the barbecue lid down and surveyed his backyard pool. “She would have at least put on a swimsuit, unlike that weenie over there.” He nodded at the group by the pool’s edge.
The other Mavericks knew his dad had been an asshole, but Matt had never repeated ad nauseam the things his father had said. Weenie was just another word to Sebastian. But today, after hearing his father’s voice in his head, after yelling at Ari, after making her leave, Matt felt his hackles rise and his hands clench.
“Don’t call Noah a weenie.” His voice was practically a snarl.
Sebastian turned, pulling his sunglasses down his nose. “I wasn’t talking about Noah. He has his trunks on. I was talking about Will.”
Matt closed his eyes and ratcheted down all the emotion threatening to come loose in his body. He was being an asshole. Again.