Had To Be You

by Juliet Chatham

  Matt held Rory’s gaze with a smile now that it was just the two of them, then moved around the bar to take the seat right next to her.

  “So, what else?” he said in his old familiar way. It was less a specific question, more an invitation for her to tell him anything she might choose.

  Of course, this time that could prove to be a little tricky.

  She propped her elbow on the bar to rest her chin in her hand and appraise him. It was nice just to be able to sit together like this, taking comfort in familiar expressions and mannerisms, his gentle humor, the lingering warmth of a decades-long connection. There were so many things she had forgotten about him which instantly turned into things she’d missed about him. Like the way he knew exactly how to get a laugh out of her, yet still managed to look pleased to actually hear it.

  There were other things that were new. Like the way he filled out his once lankier frame, the muscles in his broad shoulders and solidly packed chest clearly evident under the blue of his button-down shirt. His dark hair was cropped short and neat, and the shadow of beard stubble combined with those warm blue eyes gave him that handsome charm. Of course, he could undo it all in a moment with a glimpse of his old goofball humor.

  An unexpected ache swept through her and she glanced away to look around the bar.

  “The place looks great. You’ve really done an amazing job here.”

  “Eh, it pays the bills,” he replied with a dismissive nonchalance before hesitating, his smile receding behind a comically furrowed brow. “Or creates them. I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.”

  Rory acknowledged this with amusement, lowering her eyes as she traced a finger down the stem of her wineglass.

  “So, how does it feel to be the hometown-boy-done-good success story?”

  “Oh, is that what I am now?” he asked with a quiet guffaw.

  “I think so, yes,” she said quietly.

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said, following his dubious sigh with a self-effacing grin, “but it does feel pretty good to work for myself. To know it’s my own—well, mine, various family members, the loan department at Bayside Savings Bank, and the good people at MasterCard and Visa, that is.”

  “But you’re the one who did it,” she insisted. “And now you’re doing something you love, something you always wanted to do—running your own business. Most guys your age are still looking for a real job. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  His expression softened with his smile, but again he only offered a shrug of his shoulder.

  “You seem to be doing okay for yourself, too.”

  Rory drew in a breath. “Well, I don’t know if I turned out to be passionate about public relations, but it’s a nice income, good benefits, and I’ve made lots of important connections. Honestly, it’s a great start, and I really needed this experience on my résumé, but where I am right now is not where I see myself forever.” It was sort of amazing how easily even her smallest innermost thoughts could tumble right out in his presence. “I just don’t know exactly where I go from here—or if I’d be any good at it.”

  “I have a feeling you’d be good at anything you tried.” The words were delivered in a soft, deep timbre that resonated, a hint of something hidden there in the blue, though Rory couldn’t be sure if it was real or imagined.

  She paused, her eyes drifting over him. “A lot has happened in a year, huh?”

  He didn’t really respond, clearing his throat before he changed the subject. “I haven’t asked if your New York guy will be coming to the wedding with you.”

  “I don’t know.” Rory briefly wet her lips, forming the words in her head. She didn’t know where she was headed with this, and wasn’t sure she was capable of going the distance, but this was the first sort of private moment they’d had together and she didn’t want to waste the opportunity. “I don’t know if he and I will even still be together then.”

  Matt gazed down into his beer. “You’ve already been together a while, haven’t you?”

  It would probably be difficult for him to ever understand how she might choose to be with someone and yet not be totally invested in the relationship. Emotionally, he was pretty much an open book. He crowded himself with good friends and family, and loved easily, with every bit of that big thumping, puppy dog heart. There wasn’t a lot of gray area in his life, while hers was all shades of it.

  “Not really. Besides, we’re both so busy with work. The truth is that we don’t actually see each that often. And maybe it’s my job. Maybe I’ve just gotten good at making excuses.”

  He seemed more curious. “Excuses about what?”

  Rory held his gaze, swallowing back the small lump of fear and trepidation now lodged in her throat.

  “Excuses as to why I—why I’ve been afraid of what I really want.”

  Briefly, the achingly familiar blue depths of his eyes seemed clouded by ambiguity. Then he let out a soft breath, almost a laugh but not quite. He suddenly moved away to dump the rest of his beer into the sink behind the bar.

  “And I think I see where this is going…”

  “Y-you do?” she stammered nervously, but sat up straighter in her seat.

  “Well, yeah.” He turned back to face her with a shrug, his tone far too casual. “It sort of always comes back to it, right? It’s okay, you know, if this guy is who you really want.” The corner of his mouth twisted up in a wry grin. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me that, Rory. Not anymore. I mean—you and I? It was a long time ago. We all grew up.” He gestured with his hands. “I get it.”

  “You do?” she asked weakly. It sounded like he most definitely did not.

  “Besides, I’m gonna be the old married guy out of all of us now, right?” he said, easing back to his usual humor. “I can sit back and start dispensing unwanted and unsolicited relationship advice to all my friends. Whether it’s this guy, or you meet someone else, I’m here. You can talk to me.”

  “No, Matt,” she said, shaking her head. “That wasn’t what I—”

  Before she could finish, Kevin suddenly returned through the front doors.

  “Hey, Rory! Danny is out front. He just got off his shift. We can catch a ride back to the house with him.”

  Matt turned to smile at her again.

  “Going home in the back of a cruiser. Just another Saturday night to you, eh?”

  Rory sighed as she slid off her barstool, so thoroughly dejected she was unable to even muster up a retort.

  “Matt, we’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Yep. See ya.”

  Rory started after Kevin, and her voice softened sadly. “Goodnight, Matt.”

  He barely glanced back from the cash register, busy counting bills.

  “I’ll see you before you head back to New York, right?”

  She hesitated, thinking she caught something in the tone of his voice, but not certain of anything now. “Yeah. Of course.”

  In leaving, she hesitated on a lingering glance, but Matt still had his head bowed over the cash drawer. The door swung shut as she finally stepped out into the summer night, missing the moment he turned to gaze after her.

  SIX

  Slamming the back hatch shut, he gazed down the city street lined with shady elms. At least six other moving trucks were currently double-parked on each side, boxes and trunks being carried up and down the front staircase of every brick building on the block. He must have watched at least a hundred people moving into this dorm today alone.

  All complete strangers, for the moment, but soon to be a familiar part of her every day. Matt felt an irrational stab of jealousy just thinking about it.

  She emerged from the building at that moment, practically bouncing down the steps, the sun shining off the pale summer highlights in her hair. She smiled at him, her aquamarine eyes big and bright with excitement, sparkling like starlight.

  He tried to ignore the achy tightening in his chest.

  “Is that it?” she aske
d, pausing at the sidewalk curb.

  “That’s it,” he said. “You’re all moved in.”

  Smiling, he placed his hands on her small waist to ease her into his embrace, the curbside almost elevating her to his height. She tilted her chin up to meet his soft kiss, her hands sliding up to his shoulders and around his neck. His tongue delved into the warm recesses of her mouth, fingers curled around her waist tenderly. It lingered on, his mouth gently moving over hers, the cotton of her tank top bunched tight in his fists as he pulled her in even closer.

  He never wanted to hold on to something so much in his life.

  Breaking away slowly after a few more minutes, he smiled against her lips. It was as if they spoke to each other in these moments. All those words they couldn’t say.

  “So, now I owe you dinner,” she said. “Where would you like to go? Your choice.”

  He shook his head and dropped a softer kiss on the tip of her nose. It didn’t feel like he had any choice at all. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Come on,” she urged him in that sweet, sexy voice she reserved only for their most private moments. “With this traffic, you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. And you’ll only have rush hour to deal with later.” Her eyebrows went up in a playful expression of soft delight. “In fact, maybe you should just stay the night.”

  Matt dropped his head with a faint grin of amusement. There was nothing he would like more than to spend the night with her. In fact, he wouldn’t mind spending every night with her, the rest of his whole life.

  “Have we not read the Student Handbook? Because I’m pretty sure they might frown upon that.”

  “Well, you can’t just turn around to drive home now,” she countered with such simple matter-of-factness, as if that wasn’t exactly what he had to do.

  “Rory?”

  A girl with a loose blonde braid and a quilted duffel bag slung over one arm slowed to a stop on the sidewalk.

  Her face lit up in recognition. “Allison! Hi, how are you!” She glanced back towards him, her hand in his. “This is my boyfriend, Matt.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hi.”

  “Allison and I met at orientation. She’s going to be living in Boland, too,” she briefly explained, and then returned her attention to her new friend. “Have you met your roommate yet?”

  “Yeah, her name’s Tara. She’s from New York, I guess. She’s seems nice. We were actually thinking about planning a little thing on our floor tonight. Order a bunch a pizzas or something later, if you’re interested.”

  Her lips parted as if to respond, but then she seemed to change her mind, and shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe. But thanks for letting me know!”

  Allison smiled, moving on. “Okay, well, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other.”

  As Rory smiled after her, Matt’s gaze slowly swept over her face. She would never get this moment back, right on the edge of everything she ever wanted. And he’d never felt so far away.

  “You should go,” he urged her gently, though it killed him a little bit to do so. “It’ll give you a chance to get to know some people before classes start.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I really gotta go. My brother needs his truck back tonight.”

  “Matt…”

  He silenced her quiet protest with another lingering kiss. He’d said his goodbyes to her a hundred times already this summer, in a thousand different little ways. He couldn’t do it again. He didn’t have any more left in him.

  “Five weeks, right? You’ll be here for that long weekend?”

  “Five weeks,” he agreed. They decided it sounded better that way, rather than measured in months—though it might as well have been years. He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head to appraise her. “What is it?”

  “What am I supposed to do without you?” she whispered.

  It was a rare show of vulnerability for her to admit she depended upon him in any way, and normally it would have caused his heart to soar. Instead, Matt felt a swift drop inside his chest, sinking like a heavy stone in the deepest ocean.

  “You’ll figure it out.” He hugged her close one more time before he released her and drew in a shaky breath, managing a smile—or at least something that resembled one.

  “Call me as soon as you get home?” she asked. “Let me know you got back okay?”

  “Of course.”

  Hesitating, she lifted a hand to discreetly swipe at her eye, and then leaned up to give him one last kiss before turning away. She paused to greet some other new students gathered on the dorm steps, and after some initial reluctance, was drawn into the conversation.

  Matt lingered another moment, maybe hoping to catch her eye one more time, even if just to smile or wave or exchange a glance. Finally he climbed into the driver’s seat of his brother’s truck, checking the rearview mirror before starting up the engine. He would need to stop for gas. It would be a much longer ride on the way home.

  By the time Rory finally looked back, he was already gone.

  ***

  The tiny brass bell above the door chimed as she stepped out of the crowded clothing boutique. Sipping an iced coffee, she perused the items folded on the table outside in the shade of the awning. It was the annual Memorial Day weekend boat regatta, parade, and sidewalk sale, and she was in dire need of some more appropriate summer attire outside her basic black PR girl style. She’d packed in anticipation of Jonathan’s play opening and private cocktail reception, and needed something a little more J. Crew than J. Mendel.

  Moving to continue down the street, she emerged from the cool shade and into a warm bath of sunlight. The sea breeze carried the faint scent of lilacs in bloom all over the town square. Scanning all the white-tipped boats crowded into the harbor, Rory imagined he must be out there somewhere. Matt was always loyal to the things he loved.

  With her coffee in hand, she paused next to browse at the used book shop. Opening one old leather-bound novel, she reflexively lifted it to her nose. Along with the lilacs and salt air, this had to be one of her top five favorite scents.

  As she happened to glance up over the open binding, her gaze narrowed, noticing a vaguely familiar couple emerge from the local artisan gallery on the corner. Rory’s mouth dropped as soon as she realized one of them was actually quite intimately familiar to her. And if that was Matt, she had to assume the other must be Amanda.

  Her eyes darted around nervously, desperate for cover as she ducked down behind the book (as if it might shield her) wondering how obvious it would look if she simply dove into the hydrangea bushes outside the Sweetwater Taffy shop next door. Before she could make a move, however, he spotted her.

  “Rory?”

  “Oh…hey,” she called back, placing the book down. She tried for a casual, detached tone, but it came out slightly strangled.

  Matt touched his hand to the elbow of his companion to get her attention. Even that hurt to see. He said something to her, and Amanda turned.

  All this time, Rory had been trying make her out to be some kind of wicked witch nemesis, and wasn’t entirely prepared to be faced with someone more like Dorothy.

  She had dark, glossy hair, somewhat delicate features, with high cheekbones and a narrow sculpted nose. It gave her an almost fragile quality, especially with her slim figure, but her arms were nicely toned. (If it came to blows, however, Rory was still pretty sure she could take her.)

  On closer inspection, Amanda looked almost nothing like what she’d expected her to look like—only that wasn’t entirely accurate, because Rory never expected her at all.

  When they walked over, for a terrifyingly brief moment she actually thought she might throw up.

  “Amanda,” Matt said, glancing at her. “This is my friend, Rory.”

  She tightened her smile in place, trying not to be hurt, wondering why there was a sudden need for these generic labels. There was just the tiniest flicker of response in Amanda’s eyes, something quick b
ut kind of odd. Then it was gone.

  “Hello.”

  She extended her hand and Rory kept it brief, noticing several delicate link bracelets on her wrist. She wondered if any had been gifts from Matt. She refused to acknowledge the sparkle of diamond on her finger which had most definitely been his gift to her.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she lied.

  “You, too.”

  While Amanda seemed to stare at her a little longer than necessary, Matt did his best not to make direct eye contact with either one of them.

  “What are you up to today?” he asked, though it sounded like he felt obligated to say something.

  “Just a little shopping. And you?”

  “Same,” he said.

  His discomfort was so obvious—not to mention kind of humorous—it almost helped to ease hers.

  “You know, I believe we’ve actually met before,” Amanda finally said. Her soft, even-toned voice held the slight inflection of a regional accent.

  “I’m sorry, we have?” Rory was pretty sure she would’ve remembered that.

  “Yes, but don’t feel bad,” she explained with a serene smile that instantly tested Rory’s patience. “It was very brief, one time last summer. I just never forget a face, that’s all. It was the night of Matt’s bar opening last July. I tagged along with some family friends who were invited.” She turned her eyes up towards him. “That was actually the first night we met, as well.”

  Rory’s lips parted on an empty response. She needed a few seconds to absorb this, her mind beginning to race backwards, as if Amanda’s words had touched off the rewind function of her memory.

  Slowly, she turned to stare at Matt, her expression darkening as she lowered her voice. “Is that right?”

  He was definitely averting his eyes now, almost turning his whole body away.

  “We should probably get moving along here, right?” he said to Amanda.

  Rory finally realized he was maybe more nervous than she was, and now she had a good idea as to why. That not only sparked some resolve and determination in her, it set off a slow burn of irritation as well.