The neighbors were probably getting a little worried. The cat lady next door rarely went outside, but she often peeked out her windows with a cat nestled in her arms. She was a sweet old woman, and this extremely brief consideration for an uninvolved human being made Mattie feel bad. 

She was crying, and it wasn't a Disney princess cry either. It was ugly crying, with her face contorted into a grimace and her nostrils flaring and the occasional strangled, weird-sounding whimper coming from her throat. Her mind was racing, outpacing itself; she was tripping over her own frantic thoughts to get to the next one. Why was he here? How had he found her? Why [i]now?[/i] When she'd almost managed to cleanse her mind of the invasive feelings of missing him after what he'd done? 

She yanked open the fridge and pulled out a full bottle of vodka. Then she started chugging. A little bit spilled down her face. 

One thing was certain: Mattie was a complete [i]mess.[/i] She was too afraid to respond to Nick and betray the emotion in her voice, which by now would definitely be wavering if she tried to speak. Maybe if she pretended not to be home, he'd just go away! 

Except she knew he wouldn't. 

She paused from drinking, set the bottle down hard on the counter, wiped her eyes and gathered her strength. 

"Why don't you pack up and fuck off for three more years, you fucking used tampon?!"