Two months later
“Come on, Matt. We’ve got to go,” I call into the bedroom and check my hair and makeup for about the thousandth time. I haven’t been this nervous about my appearance since my first Comic-Con, only today I’m not painted as my favorite character. Today I’m just me.
“This okay?” He steps into the doorway and I lift my gaze over my shoulder. Fuck me. It doesn’t matter how many times I see this man or that we practically live together with the number of sleepovers we have. I still can’t believe he’s all mine.
“You clean up nice.” I turn and try not to laugh at the way he tugs at the collar of his dress shirt.
“I feel like a goddamn monkey. Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” He blows out a breath, his nerves and frustration apparent.
I reach up to pull his hands away so I can fix his collar and unbutton the top button. “Because you’re going to help so many families and you’re ridiculously generous. It’s one of the things I don’t hate about you,” I say to earn his laughter.
His smirk pulls his lips wide. “For the record I don’t hate this on you.” He reaches out to skim his fingertips down the front of my fitted sweater to the sides of my pencil skirt where they rest and rub circles against my hips. He’s really good at sparking my desire with his mostly innocent touches. My body thrums with the need to have him now.
“None of that.” I grab his hands and pull them from my waist. “You’re not getting out of the interview. Not even with that.”
Busted. He forces a pout through his smirk. “I can’t get anything past you.” He steps around me to run his hands through his hair and over the short scruff of his beard. “You sure I shouldn’t shave?”
His hair is growing back slowly. I miss the longer locks, but they’re finally where I can run my fingers through them. His beard is a different story. It’s well on its way to the length it was when we first met.
“Don’t you dare. I love the way you look.” I shake my head and his eyes heat with promise. I reach out and he threads our fingers together. “Don’t change. Not for anyone.”
“Not even ESPN? Because they’re a pretty big deal.” His brow rises with his smirk.
“Even for them. But speaking of them, we better go. They’re meeting us at the gym at nine.” Matt didn’t want to accept the tell-all personal interview when reps from both the UFC and ESPN first approached him last month. He’s private with his life, which I appreciate. But after Xavier’s breakthrough into the UFC and Matt’s return as a coach, people were itching for his story. I understand. He’s a fascinating man.
After considering the lives he’d be able to change and the size audience he’d have the ability to reach, he started to sway. After I came up with the idea to pair the special with a fundraiser at the gym and include virtual participation through his website, Matt decided baring his hard truths was worth sharing. I’m nervous for him, but he’s the strongest man I know, both physically and emotionally. He can do this.
We arrive at South Side to a flurry of activity. Even after canceling today’s classes for the taping, there are a good number of fighters and trainers here to show their support. Danny, Xavier, Chantel, Mason, and Ricky each take their turn in the hot seat and answer questions about their brother, coach, and friend.
Matt’s up next and I stand off to the side so I can nod encouragement to him if he gets stuck. Besides telling me after we officially got together in Vegas, there’s no one here who knows his entire past. The reporter goes through a few easy questions designed to draw forth Matt’s lighthearted charisma. He’s doing great, but we both know what’s coming.
It still doesn’t pack less of a punch.
“You must know there’s a lot of speculation regarding your childhood. So close to your mom until she passed away; estranged from your father. You’ve never spoken about this before, but you’ve agreed to now. Tell us what it was like growing up in your house.”
Matt nods, his face holding back much of the pain. “When Pop wasn’t around? There was laughter. Love. Never enough food. Clothes from the thrift store or handed down by neighbors. Mom never finished high school. She worked retail jobs and picked up anything else to get us by. Our apartment was shit—sorry, can I say that?”
“You can say shit.”
“It wasn’t much, but it was home.”
“Was your father around much?”
“More than I ever wanted. As a kid, I dreaded the weeks he came home. Sometimes it was only for a night, other times weeks. With him, my mother changed. She didn’t smile. She didn’t laugh. Everything she did was wrong and he let her know all about it. First with the insults. The yelling. Then a smack here. A shove there. I’d have to go to my room, but I heard it all. Do you understand what it’s like to listen to your own father rape your mother after beating her within an inch of her life?”
The gym is silent as everyone awaits his next words with bated breath. My heart aches for that little boy. For the pain he endured.
“Twenty people are physically abused by an intimate partner in the United States each minute. Only thirty percent of them receive medical care for their injuries. The number of children who witness these acts of violence is staggering; almost ninety percent. But those are just numbers and it’s really easy to overlook them. Domestic violence is ugly. Rape is ugly. There’s something wrong with our culture, and I’m sharing my story in hopes it can be the difference for someone who is struggling.” Matt turns away from the reporter and faces one of the rolling cameras. His voice is rich with emotion and tears gather in his eyes. “There’s help for you. You deserve better. Your children deserve better. I promise you.”
I don’t think there’s a dry eye in the room, though everyone is too preoccupied holding back the sound. I have to give the reporter credit because she holds it together and asks the question so many have wondered.
“Thank you, Matt. Just . . . thank you.” She clears her throat. “Let’s go back to your last fight in the octagon. Reigning champ in your division. You were predicted to win. But things didn’t go your way.”
Matt laughs but it holds no humor. “You could say that.”
“What happened?”
“Victor Suarez caught me with a right hook in the end of the third round. I gotta tell you, that guy can pack a punch. From the moment his glove made contact, my ears began to ring. I was no stranger to taking a hit either, but this time was different. I don’t really remember the fourth round but I’ve seen the footage.”
“It ended your career.”
“Yeah, the specialists said if I were to take a hit like that again I wouldn’t walk away. I love fighting. It’s been my salvation. It’s in my blood. At the time that was probably the worst news of my life. It sucks to have what you love ripped from your hands with no say in the matter.”
“But that’s not the legacy you left. That same night, before that very fight, your own father placed a bet against you. The payout was over five hundred thousand dollars.”
Matt’s jaw works back and forth, his anger bubbling to the surface. Until now he’s been able to maintain his composure, but this visibly rattles him. “Yes, he did.”
“It’s bad enough he bet against his own son, but several people came forward afterwards, reporting they saw him go into your hotel the night before the fight. What do you have to say about that?”
“He came to see me. He asked me to throw the fight.”
A gasp, from Danny or maybe Xavier sounds from behind me, but I don’t look away from Matt. Much like everyone else in this room, I’m anxiously awaiting his next words.
The reporter narrows her gaze. “Why?”
“As a favor. To get out of debt. My father has both a gambling and a drinking problem. I wish I could say what he asked was shocking, but really it was only par for the course.”
“Did he offer to split the winnings?”
“Of course he did.”
“Matt, did you intentionally lose to Victor Suarez?”
“Hell, no.” Matt’s chest rises with a deep inhale and after he releases it, he continues. “Did I consider it? Not for a second. But I struggled with the guilt. He warned me that night, that if I didn’t lose he was a dead man walking. I can’t even explain how relieved that made me. Because my father has always been there, a poison to anything good in my life. So, to not have to deal with him anymore . . . after everything he did to my mother, to me? To not have him show up and interfere in my career? That sounded just about perfect.
“But the flip side is I worked very hard to become nothing like him. I was an angry teenager, out on the streets at sixteen. I found peace in the sport of MMA. It gave me control. It gave me confidence. I didn’t fight to kill, I fought for the sport, and yeah, a little for the glory. If I won and in turn I contributed to his death, then wouldn’t I be just like him?
“In the end, Suarez took the decision from me. He’s one hell of a fighter, and my only regret is not being able to challenge him to a rematch.” At that, Matt’s lips pull into his signature smile. The one that melts even the most jagged of hearts—including mine. Matt continues to answer questions and after they wrap up production we all enjoy a hearty meal of deep dish at Giordano’s.
I’m proud of him and how far he’s come. For being brave enough to share his story across the nation. He’s humble and kind, and has an incredible work ethic. I know he did the interview to help other women, other families, but as I glance around the table it’s clear he’s already changed so many lives. He’s also forgotten what day it is. I can’t wait to get home and surprise him.
“You realize how much I want you right now?” Matt aligns his body against my backside as I slip the key into my apartment door.
I push my ass back a few inches and feel his hardness through his pants. “I’m guessing a lot,” I smart and am met with a growl.
His lips bury into the crook of my shoulder and he kisses the skin there. “So damn much. Can we go inside now?” His rough chuckle only spreads goosebumps across my flesh.
Shaking him off, I turn the key and push inside my apartment and stomp all the way to the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” He laughs after me.
“Stay there.” I slam and lock the door with a giggle. “I’ll be out in a minute!”
“This is not what I was expecting,” he grumbles through the door, but he doesn’t try to gain entry. I hear the television click on and quickly get to work. I’ve been planning this for a month. It is his favorite holiday, after all.
It takes me longer than it should because I’m not a lingerie kinda girl. But I get the black lace bra, thong, garter, and stockings all in place, then head to the bathroom to pull back my hair in a high ponytail. Painting on a nose and whiskers is simple. The headband with cute little ears adds the final touch. I spin in the mirror with satisfaction. Not bad, considering the improvisation.
A knock at the bedroom door interrupts my preening. “You almost done in there? There’s a new Walking Dead episode calling our names.”
I pull open the door and greet him with a smile. “I was thinking we save the show for later.”
He tilts his head and his smile’s wide. “What’s this? Did Halloween come early this year?” His eyes take me in with an appreciation that’s worth all the effort.
“Sexy Groundhog. Of course.” I wrinkle my nose and shake my butt.
He nods, his lips fighting a full blown smile. “Oh, right. My first guess was puppy.”
I shrug. “Must have been the ears. They don’t really make groundhog costumes. I had to improvise.”
“I’m glad you did.” He steps forward so I have to back up, and he doesn’t stop until the backs of my legs hit the bed’s edge. He catches me before I fall and his lips press against mine. Like all the times between us, I can’t help but kiss him back. Our mouths and tongues battle against each other for the lead and by the time he lowers us against the mattress we’re both out of breath.
“Matt?” I whisper against his lips.
He pushes up to his forearms to meet my gaze. “Yes, Mia.”
“Happy Groundhog Day.” I grin, hoping he understands just how much I love him. How thankful I am to have a partner like him in my life. There are so many stupid, mushy things I want to say, and if I weren’t so damn happy I’d be sickened at myself by the thoughts. I have so much to learn and I’m not perfect, but as we make love Matt makes me feel as if I am. As if what I have to offer is more than enough. He’s awakened my heart. He honors my mind. He’s a man I’ll fight for to the end. Zombie apocalypse and all.