She'd finished the burger now, but she really wanted to move on to the second one. The second set of knocking jarred her again. They were never this persistent. Maybe it was a debt collector? But she tried not to have any debt. A drug dealer? Now, that wouldn't be too shabby. Maybe, she fantasized, it was a moonshine salesman––now that would really knock her socks off. With a [i]very[/i] overdone sigh, Mattie heaved herself out of her seat (a magical seat that only became comfortable when she wanted to leave it). 

She crossed swiftly to the door, so ready to give this bastard a piece of her mind, ready to shout, "The sign says no soliciting, [i]asshole![/i]" and then slam the door. 

Moodily she opened the door just a crack. Nick's face greeted her. 

Nope. Wasn't happening. No, no no, not real, not happening, lalalala, and she was so busy telling herself this wasn't reality that she  didn't hear herself scream. She did see herself uppercut him, although her fist had moved [i]after[/i] she registered that those were roses he was holding. 

Swallowing the slight guilt, Mattie slammed the door. Locked it. Bolted it. Dragged a chair from the kitchen to stand across the doorway and provide an extra barricade. 

"Ho-lee [i]fuuuuuuuuck,[/i]" she panted, stumbling into the living room doe-eyed with panic. "Put a fuckin' stick up my asshole and call me a popsicle! What the fuck?!" Her head was spinning. She'd decided after he'd [i]abandoned[/i] her that she never wanted to see him again. Forever and ever, and even after that. She'd also figured he wouldn't bother coming back. Or that he'd been killed by Jacob and she'd never found out.

Now here were the tears. She knew the cure to those.