Carefully shifting positions, he glanced over at Amanda, her legs draped over his lap as she napped next to him on the couch.
They were finalizing the honeymoon plans tonight and she’d arrived with an armload of pamphlets for the all-inclusive island resort. She’d also brought a batch of homemade cookies she’d baked for him the night before, while he was at work.
Despite what her uptown appearance might lead some to believe, Amanda was actually content to be a homebody. Matt, therefore, didn’t have to feel so bad that his weekends, and traditional date nights, were usually tied up at the bar. There were a lot of things about them that seemed to work. So much seemed to fall right into place, even though he’d held back at first. Initially resistant to the idea of a relationship, he hadn’t really put himself out there. But gradually she’d won him over. He gave up the fight, as it were.
What they had was good. It was easy. And what could make a guy feel better about being with a beautiful, sweet and intelligent girl than knowing she loved him enough to agree to spend the rest of her life with him? That kind of commitment certainly wasn’t something Matt took lightly.
Working in the bar business, he spent a lot of nights talking with a lot of people. He heard, and overheard, his share of life stories, some more depressing than others, and had plenty of glimpses into what went on in other guys’ lives. Some who would come in after work and sit there until midnight, just so they wouldn’t have to go home to face their waiting wives. Others would conveniently forget there was someone waiting at all.
He’d come to the conclusion that most were unsatisfied because, for whatever reason, they were incapable of being happy with what they had. Matt decided he wasn’t going to be one of them.
Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he dug the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It was Luke’s scribbled note, the one he found on his desk yesterday informing him that Rory had stopped by to see him. Matt only gazed at it a long moment, grazing the pad of his thumb over the letters in her name.
Danny had invited them over tonight for a barbeque, but he declined, using the excuse he was tired, the frenzy of all the wedding-related activities and events and social obligations descending upon them. He could admit, however, that wasn’t necessarily the complete truth.
Matt was still shaken a bit, thrown by his feelings of confusion and hesitancy. While he wouldn’t go so far as to call them serious doubts, he supposed he was due for a bout of cold feet at some point. It was fleeting, temporary. He was over it.
He could also admit that it was no small coincidence as to the timing of that moment. He knew the source, and knew the best thing for everyone involved was for him to address the problem and correct it.
So, he had been avoiding Rory, avoiding everything she once represented, everything she once meant to him. That’s the real reason he turned down his brother’s invitation tonight. Matt was drawn to her. He always had been. And, if he didn’t do anything to stop it, and stop it now, he probably always would be.
Going over to the beach house, knowing the chances were pretty good he was going to find her there—going hoping to find her there—had been a grave error in judgment on his part. No good could come of that. Not at this point in his life.
Perhaps due to his lack of sleep this week, he lost focus and got mixed up and turned around in that fog and started looking back instead of looking ahead.
Matt could still worry about her, still care about her, but couldn’t confuse those feelings with something else. Granted, whenever he saw Rory, there were always about a million different feelings to sort out. And lately it was as if someone had placed them all into a blender and hit the puree button, ripping him up to leave him reeling.
He’d realized a while ago, however, that he was never going to find a future for himself if he didn’t let go of his past. He wanted a future, and he wanted to be happy. Any chance for a real relationship with Rory was over.
That ship had sailed. Just like the Titanic.
Amanda stirred, stretching her arms above her head as she let out a soft, sleepy murmur. Matt quickly shoved the note back in his pocket. Blinking her eyes open, she smiled at him.
“I guess I fell asleep.”
“I guess you did.”
She shifted positions, sitting upright to snuggle in close and nuzzle his neck. “Ugh. Is it really that late? I have to go. My mother has a whole day of beauty scheduled for us tomorrow, and she likes to get an early start.”
She moved to climb off his lap and stand from the couch, but Matt paused as he followed after her. It suddenly felt like something was missing, something just out of his reach.
“Hey, wait.” He tugged gently on her hand to halt her at the door.
Amanda turned to give him a quizzical smile.
“What?”
He hesitated, his gaze drifting over her, trying to find it again.
“I love you.”
Her smile warmed her green eyes, even if she still held onto a bit of a puzzled expression.
“I love you, too.”
That was all he ever needed to hear.
***
“Rory? We’re taking off now!” Lindsay suddenly poked her head in the back door. “Talk to you tomorrow!”
“Okay. Goodnight, guys.” Her smile of farewell gradually faded as she watched them descend the deck stairs to disappear into the darkness of the driveway. As she returned to rinsing off the dishes, she glanced out the bay window to watch Kevin on the back deck with Joshua. Both were rather sickeningly adorable together, caught up in the beginning stages of their new relationship. Rory knew Kevin’s assorted doubts and fears, and was aware of how reluctant he always was to put himself out there. Yet out there he was, and it seemed to be going in his favor.
She supposed if one doesn’t take the chance or make that leap, there’s another risk to face—the risk of ending up alone. It was the side effect no one told her about, the fine print she didn’t read.
Why had it always been so difficult for her, with Matt? Rory was aware that nostalgia could be a dangerously seductive thing. Imbued with the feelings and memories that a first true love leaves behind, maybe she was just craving that intensity and poignancy, the melting sensation in her stomach, the fluttering around her heart, the sweet passion unmatched, but was unable to handle the day-to-day reality of an adult commitment. Not that she had ever given her relationship with him the chance to really reach that place.
Almost a week had already come and gone, now one week closer to his wedding day, and Rory was no closer to telling him the truth about her visit and how she really felt. Having already blown her opportunity that morning he stopped by, before the uncanny timing of Amanda’s phone call, she next tried for a casual drop-in at the bar. Of course, it had to be his day off. She started in the direction of his apartment, but only circled the block twice before retreating.
Why did she have to hesitate when she had the perfect chance alone with him? Fear had never been her friend. Why was she still wasting time with it?
He was supposed to be here tonight for this barbeque. All day she’d waited for the hour of his arrival with a mixture of breathless anticipation and sickening dread. She didn’t know what to feel when Danny finally told her he wouldn’t be coming by after all—the deep, devastating crush of disappointment or the grateful, knee-weakening rush of relief.
Even if he did come, Rory had to wonder what difference it would have made. If Amanda was with him, it would only prolong and enhance the agony, since she certainly couldn’t have talked to him then. On the off chance he did come without her, Rory probably still wouldn’t have been able to talk to him. Not really talk to him.
Words would be exchanged, sure, but each one marinated in sarcasm, served on a giant platter of nonchalance with a side of denial and a fresh garnish of wit—the perfect recipe for self-defense, her special ingredients for self-preservation.
This trip wasn’t going at all how she’d planned.
Perh
aps she should have actually had a plan.
The dishwasher began its cycle, the low murmur from the appliance filling the quiet kitchen. Glancing out the doors once more towards the deck, Rory wandered down the hallway to the guest bedroom rather than join the others back outside.
Jonathan had left countless messages on her cell phone by this point. As expected, he wasn’t very happy that she’d decided not to return after the long weekend.
Slipping into the bedroom, she closed the door carefully behind her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she retrieved her phone from her bag and lifted it to her ear with a steadying breath.
“Hello?”
“Jonathan? It’s me.”
And that began what turned into a thirty minute explanation of exactly why it was her, and not him, and all the other various reasons why their personal relationship had reached an end.
To say he took it well would be a bit of an overstatement. He was bitter. He was angry. It all seemed to come down to the fact he couldn’t believe she was doing this to him now, over the phone, at the worst possible time in his life. Apparently the first reviews of his play weren’t that great.
Timing, however, had never been her strong suit.
He hung up on her after her third or fourth apology, leaving off with a few choice words. Rory blew out a shaky sigh, and dialed another number.
“Hello?”
“Sarah?”
“Rory, is it really you?”
“It’s me,” she replied, pressing her lips tight in an attempt to suppress any teary emotion from leaking into her voice. “How are you?”
“Me? I’m fine. The question is how are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Really? Because you don’t sound okay. I thought this little impromptu trip home was about taking some time off for yourself. Is something else going on?”
Rory didn’t think she was emotionally ready at the moment to discuss it, even with her good friend.
“Actually, I just got off the phone with Jonathan. I—we ended things.”
“Shame, really. How I’m always right.” Sarah’s tone immediately shifted. “Honestly, is there anything I can do? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I will be.” Rory hesitated. “Can I ask, though, why did you seem so sure it wasn’t going to work out?”
“Well, I suppose it’s because you have a type. And he was exactly it.”
“Excuse me? How does that make sense?”
“You always have the guy, Rory. That you typically date. At least as far as I’ve seen since I’ve known you. This guy who is always great on the surface. Witty, charming, tall and dark and handsome is a must, but every single one you seem to hold at arm’s length. Like they’re missing something. Potentially the most important thing.”
“And what’s that?” Rory was almost afraid to ask.
“What I think you really want or need. And we both know only you can answer the question of what that is. For me? The answer would be fairly simple: Ryan Gosling.”
She quickly swiped at her eye with a teary smile of amusement.
“Speaking of questions to be answered, I fear I can’t stand the suspense any longer. I know there’s Ross and Rachel, of course, and then Zach and Kelly, but who does Kelly Taylor choose? Brandon or Dylan?”
The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. “She chooses herself.”
There was a short pause on the other end of the line.
“Oh, bollocks. What complete rubbish. There’s six hours of my life I’ll never get back. And they actually allow her to come back to West Beverly High as a guidance counselor? So she can guide us all into substance abuse, back-stabbing, cult-joining, and infuriating self-superiority?”
“Again—real life versus not so much.”
“Yes. I suppose you’re right. ”
“Sarah, I…” Rory hesitated on her admission. “There is something more going on here. There’s someone here. My old boyfriend.”
“And is he the real reason you went back home?”
“Yes. Not that it matters anymore.”
“What does that mean?’
She glanced out at the darkened beach with a sadder smile.
“You have another few hours to kill?”
THIRTEEN
Carrying a load of laundry, Rory had to peer around the folded stack to judge the distance to the doorway. She missed the low overhang at the top of the basement steps, sharply smacking the top of her head.
“Ow!”
She winced and rubbed at the sore spot, and then wandered down the hall to the bathroom to check it in the mirror.
Although most of her hard knocks lately were not of the physical variety, she felt a sudden swell of frustration and sadness as tears sprung to her eyes. Swinging the door shut, she plopped down right on the closed toilet seat cover and collapsed into a weepy mess.
Matt had been conspicuously absent, making no visits to the beach house and almost completely out of touch for a few days now, to the point both Kevin and Danny even mentioned it. What did she expect, however? That someone getting married in a week wouldn’t, perhaps, be a bit busy and preoccupied with other things?
Rory was starting to believe she should just give it up. What made her even come here, with this ridiculous idea? Drawing in a shaky breath, she swiped her hand down her face to dry her damp cheeks.
This vague, hollow ache lingered in her chest. Everything here seemed to bring on a wash of melancholy, from the soft, briny breeze carrying the scent of some long forgotten wildflower, to the constant crash and recede of the surf, or the way the vividly painted sunsets gave way each night to a brilliant dome of starlight overhead. It all filled her with an unexpected and inexplicable sense of loss and longing.
She kept trying to shove the feeling back down, to firmly place a lid over it, but it was as if that small bump to the head somehow knocked it free.
There was a time when she was so determined to steer clear of strong attachments to anything here. After feeling so abandoned by her father, it was difficult to trust in anything anymore, most especially in the comfort and security of home. Perhaps it was more a part of her than she ever realized, however, and it was only in leaving that she gained perspective.
Rory tried to distance herself, but it turned out that home was never farther away than her heart.
Having finally composed herself, she wandered out into the sunny yellow kitchen. In exchange for letting her wash a couple of loads of travel clothes, she helped her mother make her famous red and blue triple berry muffins. They were her contribution to the town bake sale held every year to raise money for Fourth of July fireworks. Next week it would be the Chowder Festival, the week after that the sandcastle contests out at Front Beach. It was all about tradition.
Her mother had left already, off delivering the muffins. Maybe when she got home, Rory should just pack up all her clean clothes, say her goodbyes and head back to New York tonight. She would send her regrets, and a gift off the registry. Maybe a nice serving platter, since it felt like someone had carved up her heart.
She heard a knock on the wood frame of the screen door.
“Come in,” she called out, moving over to the sink to start cleanup. “It’s open.”
“Hello?”
Glancing around the corner of kitchen, she smiled in surprise to see Jill’s small, round form come through the door, followed by Lindsay.
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
“I decided to take a little vacation for myself, too.” With water bottle in hand, she made herself at home at the table, just like she had done countless times in high school. “The boys told us you were over here.”
“Is Trevor with you?”
“No. He’s got meetings all this week; then the week after he goes to some big sales conference up in Vancouver. He’s going to try to cut out early to make it home for the wedding, but he thinks there are morning presentations already scheduled for that Saturday that he won’t be able to get out
of. I’ll probably just take my mom as my date.”
Lindsay sat across from her. “I still can’t believe they got the Cliffside Manor.”
The Cliffside was a five-star restaurant and function hall boasting sweeping ocean views, and was the ultimate height of taste and class in wedding receptions. It was also built on the former site of the old Seaview Inn.
Rory returned her attention to rinsing out the mixing bowl, suddenly not liking the direction this conversation was taking.
“Yeah,” Jill replied. “Her father must have some connections. That place is booked years in advance. And, remember, they only got engaged in January. You start calling around then for a summer wedding? Good luck to you.”
“I wonder why it had to happen so fast.”
“Good question.”
“What was that, Rory?”
“Nothing,” she muttered. She was not getting involved in this conversation.
“Who knows?” said Jill. “But who knows why people get married at all?”
“He brought her by Bobby’s parent’s house when we were home on Easter weekend,” Lindsay said. “That’s quite the rock.”
Jill nodded in wry amusement. “That’s what he gets for letting her pick it out.”
“She picked it out?”
Rory tensed then relaxed, realizing she hadn’t said it aloud and instead it was just Lindsay echoing her thoughts. Because this conversation? Not happening.
“Yeah,” Jill said. “He apparently proposed very spontaneously, without one. Rookie mistake.”
“Mistake is right.”
They both glanced at her with expectant smiles and raised eyebrows.
She blew out a noisy breath in her exasperated defense. “Whatever, okay?”
“So, tonight is the big bachelor party, huh?” Lindsay switched the subject with a tilt of her head. “What are they going to do? Do you know? Because Bobby had no clue. Last time he talked to Danny, he said there might not even be one. Just a few guys getting together for dinner or something.”
“Well, according to Kevin,” Jill said, “that all suddenly changed. Now they have a rented van with a driver to take them to some strip club, and a sports bar, I guess. And then, after that, they’re going back to the house of one of the guys Matt works with—his bartender, Luke—to play poker. And I would assume drink some more.”
Had To Be You Page 15
