Unforgiven(90)

“So am I,” Matt agrees. “I honestly wasn’t sure we’d ever see the day he got married.” He chuckles, and I laugh in return.
“I’m not sure anyone thought we’d see this day,” I say, twirling the small, red straw in my water. “Seltzer water, with a twist of lime,” I tell him as I raise the glass and show him. I’m not sure why I feel the need to let him know what I’m drinking, but I sensed maybe his sudden arrival was to make sure I hadn’t fallen off the proverbial wagon and was drinking myself into oblivion at my brother’s wedding.
“I’m proud of you, Lindsay.” For some reason, this admission, this vote of confidence in me immediately sends tears to my eyes, and my throat tightens. Maybe because I’ve felt like nothing more than a complete disappointment to everyone and because I feel like I’ve let down everyone I love.
“Thanks.” I’m barely able to squeak out around my constricted throat.
“You look good—healthy.”
“I feel good, actually.” My responses are short, and the conversation is awkward, but there is a feeling of contentment between us—maybe we’ll be able to find ourselves in a place where we can be friends. I look at the crowded ballroom full of friends and new family and I see new beginnings. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. We stand quietly and take in the extravagant party around us.
“Matt.” I say his name like so many times before to get his attention. This time, there is an unwavering need in my tone. “Do you believe people deserve second chances?” His dark eyes find mine and he contemplates his answer.
“I believe there are some people who deserve an infinite number of chances.”
“Why?”
“Because some people are worth that. You’re worth that, Lindsay.”
I turn to him and smile. His dark brown eyes glisten in the low lights of the reception hall. His face is serious, yet soft. I drop my eyes to my feet and look away, feeling tears threatening to form behind them. Looking up, I spot Melissa in the center of the room, standing next to a large, round table, her red hair pulled up into a twist and her eyes scanning the crowd, presumably looking for Matt.
“I think someone is looking for you.” I nod at Melissa. “You should probably go dance with her.” I don’t know why these words hurt so badly, but they do. Maybe it’s my way of telling him it’s okay to move on—I’ve given him my permission to let me go, not that he needed it. It’s only fair he does. I made my decision, the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in walking away from him. My eyes suddenly fill with tears and he makes a move toward me—most likely to comfort me— but he stops. He says nothing, but his eyes speak the words he’s not saying. “I forgive you.” He places his hand on my arm and, for just a moment, my world feels—right.
“Yeah, I should probably go. Don’t be a stranger, Linds.” He squeezes my arm tenderly before he lets go. I nod my head as he walks away toward a smiling Melissa. I shouldn’t watch, but I do. I watch him lean into her, both of his hands on her forearms, whispering in her ear. She smiles and nods, and he presses a kiss to her cheek. She looks to me, then back to him. This is my cue to leave. I wish nothing but the best for Matt, but I’m not strong enough to stand around and watch the man I love in the arms of another woman—a better woman.
I set my glass on the table in front of me and excuse myself from the reception rather abruptly. I say a quick goodbye to my mom and Louis and blow a kiss to Landon when he sees me heading for the exit. He knows this has been hard for me and nods his head in approval of my leaving. With a quick wave to Reagan, I quietly leave.
I shiver as the cool, fall Wilmington air hits my face as I press the door open and step out into the dark night. It’s quiet outside, with just the faintest sounds of music escaping through the walls. I pull my car keys from the small handbag and hold on to the old metal railing so I don’t fall on these steep stone steps. Heels and a tight, long dress with cobblestone stairs are not a good combination. I almost laugh at myself, wondering what a mess I’d have been if the old Lindsay had sipped a drink or two tonight and tried to navigate these stairs.
“Let me help you.” There is his voice again, behind me. I pause momentarily before turning around.
“I’m good. I’ve got this.” I smile in gratitude at him.
“I know you do, Lindsay. You are the strongest woman I know. You can do anything, without anyone’s help. You’ve proven that time and again, but let me help you.” His voice is full of need—he’s almost begging me to let him help me.