It was then Rory realized it was time to give up on her dad. He’d left, and it was finally time to consider him gone.
“Rory?”
She glanced up at the sound of the screen door and a moment later Jill appeared in her bedroom.
“Hey.” Jill went to the mirror to check her hair. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Rory took a deep breath of resolve, shutting her pain tight away as she stood from the bed to start putting her clothes away. It wasn’t something she felt like discussing with Jill, whose father’s worst transgression today was probably making her pancakes for breakfast when she actually wanted waffles. “What are you doing?”
“I was heading downtown to meet Hannah and Lindsay at the place with the sandwich wraps. Do you want to come? I guess then the boys have a double-header over at Seaside at one-thirty?”
She only nodded, glad she hadn’t mentioned the trip to anyone but Matt. Rory didn’t plan to waste this whole Saturday sitting home and feeling bad.
The noontime sun beat down, the ocean wind pushing the clouds around in the bright blue. They followed the winding path along Harborview all the way into town, where the pavement switched over to cobblestone. The sandwich shop was on the corner across from the boat landing, with small picnic tables lined up along the seawall.
Rory spotted the group almost immediately. Lindsay was at a table next to Bobby, sharing a giant fruit iced tea, while Murph and Matt sat up on the granite wall with Hannah right nearby. Matt was in his blue-and-white baseball uniform, hat backwards and hands in motion as he told them all some story. When their laughter carried on the wind, a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. But then it froze in place.
Hannah, appearing to be especially entranced by his humor, moved closer to rest her hand on his knee. Then she edged in even closer still, practically squeezing herself right between his legs, and leaned up to whisper in his ear.
At that moment, Matt glanced over.
“Hey—what are you doing here?”
Hannah slunk away as he hopped down off the wall in one easy motion, jogging over to meet them at the curb. He bowed his head for a kiss, but Rory turned so his lips only grazed her cheek.
“Sorry to surprise you,” she murmured, narrowing her gaze.
“I just thought you’d be gone by now.”
“Obviously.”
He gave her a questioning look, but she steadfastly ignored it, freezing him right out.
“Hey, Rory!” Lindsay called. “My mom said she can take us all dress shopping next Wednesday after school.”
“I think I’m all set,” she replied. “But thanks.”
“Does that mean you already got one?” Matt interjected, his voice soft and hesitant. “Do you have the color? Because, according to my mom and sister, that’s important information I need to know.”
“No, I don’t have a dress.” Rory felt hurt and betrayed all over again. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being around anyone. “I’m not really into it, to tell you the truth. It’s kind of pointless.”
“I guess,” he replied dubiously. “Though something can be pointless, and yet still kind of fun. We can make it fun.”
“I don’t think so.” She shot him a darker look. The others were involved in their own conversations over at the table, far enough away not to overhear. “But you should definitely go.”
He burst out a small, humorless laugh. “What?”
“In fact, why don’t you go with Hannah? I don’t think she has a date, and I’m sure you two would have a good time.”
“Wait—are you being serious right now?” He narrowed his gaze, but kept his voice low.
She felt a rise of bitter frustration, and tears stung her eyes all over again.
“Whatever. I’ve got to go.”
“Rory!”
She didn’t look back, and he didn’t follow.
Rory ended up going to bed early that night with a stomachache, leaving her mom to field her calls. When she finally dragged herself from bed Sunday morning, she only made it as far as the back porch, where she wrapped herself up in a cotton blanket and a book.
She was surprised when her mother stopped by on her way out to some early potluck dinner at her garden club, realizing she’d managed to let the whole day slip away.
Wandering into the kitchen, she stared at the contents of the refrigerator. With no real appetite, nothing seemed very appealing. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the back porch door. She turned back down the hallway, pausing at the screen before she eased it open.
She didn’t even know what to say.
In the fading daylight, Matt stood there in a tuxedo, a florist’s corsage box in hand and an uncertain yet hopeful smile on his face.
Rory was in shorts and an old baseball jersey, one that probably once belonged to him, her long hair spilling out of a loose topknot.
“Matt…what are you doing?”
“Ah, I would think it might be obvious.”
“Really?” Lines creased in her forehead. “Because it’s not at all.”
“I’m here to formally ask my girlfriend to prom,” he said. “Something I may have neglected to officially do. So you can see that it does, in fact, have a point—number one being me, looking like this—and thereby allow you to make a more informed decision.”
She had no reply, and just held the door open wide so he could step inside.
Digging into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his iPod and little speakers, holding it up for her to see. Rory bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes watering slightly on her tentative smile as she watched him set it up on the windowsill next to the potted geraniums.
He scrolled through until he found a good song.
“And, now for that,” he said, turning to reach for the box she held as the low, soft strains of music filled the porch.
“I’m not even wearing a dress.” Her words wavered slightly.
“Yeah, well, you could be wearing a plastic garbage bag…” He fumbled a moment with the ribbon on the wristlet before carefully placing it on her arm to tie it there. “So we really don’t need to discuss how pretty you are, because it’s pretty much an undeniable fact.”
Rory gazed down at the delicate floral arrangement before lifting her eyes back to his.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he said reassuringly, though his quiet voice also held a touch of relief.
“I don’t really want you to go with anyone else.”
“I didn’t plan to.” Matt shook his head, one hand coming to rest on her waist as he guided her towards him. “I only want to go if it’s with you, Rory. I want us to have that night—no matter how dumb or cheesy or pointless it may be.”
She slid her hand up his lapel, fingers curling into the material of his suit jacket as he took her into his arms to hold her close. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, his gentle whisper kiss grazing her cheek.
“What happened with your dad?” he asked.
She covered the hiccup of her weepy sigh. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, I do. You should know you can tell me.”
She pressed her lips tight, shaking her head. “He doesn’t get any more chances with me. That’s it. From now on, he’s not a part of my life anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Rory.”
“It’s just—it’s not worth it.”
As a few last tears leaked out, she closed her eyes to rest her head in the crook of his neck, tucking it under his chin. His body, as always, felt so warm and solid. Maybe it was just the way he held her, but there was always something so soft about him, even with the hard lines of muscle that made up his lean, athletic build. He was almost like a big teddy bear (if one ignored the increasing number of occasions lately when she just wanted to throw him down on the nearest flat surface and have her way with him).
“Don’t cry,” he gently pleaded, and ducked down to murmur in her ear. “Unless, of course, you’re just
moved to tears by how damn good I look in this tux.”
She was able to laugh at this, and quickly swiped at her eyes.
His hand found the small of her back and he held her a little closer.
“You can get pissed off and take it out on me, if you have to. You can even try to pawn me off on other women. But sooner or later you’re gonna figure it out, Rory. I’m always going to be here for you. And do you know why?”
She met his steady blue gaze and silently shook her head.
“Because you are worth it,” he said.
And she should have known then.
This was Matt. He wasn’t like every other boy at school. He wasn’t like her, and he wasn’t like her dad.
He wasn’t like anyone else.
THIRTY
Rory frowned into the paperback book in her hands, absently creasing the binding. It was a quiet, lazy afternoon, the soft sounds drifting up from the beach muted by the gentle crash of the surf. Basking in the warm sunshine, she felt anything but relaxed.
Suddenly, finally, she heard his truck swing into the driveway to park.
Ducking her head to return back to her book, she was acutely aware of the fact he was now ascending the wooden steps to the deck.
She’d started to fear he wouldn’t show at all.
“Hey.”
Glancing up, she tried to respond as nonchalantly as possible. “Hi.”
“Catching some rays?”
“Mm-hmm.” She carefully reached down to adjust her bikini top, paranoid that the sudden thunderous pounding of her heart against her chest would somehow be visible from the outside.
“Nice day for it,” he commented, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts as he glanced out towards the water. “I was down the marina earlier, doing some work on my boat.”
Rory finally lowered her book, glancing up to narrow her eyes against the glare of the summer sun.
“Did you go out?”
“Nah. I had too much stuff to do.” He grabbed the back of one of the other deck chairs to drag it closer, and dropped to sit next to her.
“It doesn’t look like you’re doing much right now.”
He threw her a sideways grin.
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
“I was simply making an observation.”
“Try to sell that to someone who isn’t familiar with you and your sarcastic ways.”
Rory snuck a glance at him when he gazed out at the beach, her eyes traveling over the broad muscles of his chest and thick curve of his tanned biceps, before she quickly turned away, her face warm from more than just the sun.
When he’d first suggested these somewhat tentative plans to spend time together today, Rory was quietly thrilled. As soon as her head hit the pillow, however, she was tossing and turning. It was a restless night, wondering to herself which might be the more difficult scenario to deal with—trying to start a relationship in the shadow of your significant other’s history with someone else, or trying to start a relationship in the shadow of your significant other’s history with you.
Coming from any direction, this wasn’t going to be easy.
“And what have you accomplished with your day so far?” he asked. “Working on anything other than that suntan?”
“Actually, if you want to know the truth, I am working on something.” She tilted her head to meet his gaze. “I’ve been trying to come up with a game plan.”
“For what?”
She smiled wryly. “My whole life, basically.”
“I thought you had that all figured out by the time we were fifteen.”
“If we could actually predict what we’d turn out to be way back then?” she replied. “Wouldn’t you be sending me postcards from the Major Leagues by now?”
He grinned in response, nodding in acknowledgment.
“Well, like everyone says, you have this fantastically unbelievable job, right out of college. And I have no doubt it’s only going to be onwards and upwards from here on out. So what’s left to plan? Exactly how much more awesome it will be?”
Rory gave this some consideration. She was so focused on work when there, on proving herself and advancing from her entry-level status, yet in all this time away she’d barely given it a passing thought. The job had always been too good to pass up, especially for someone her age, with its salary and fringe benefits. She now had the financial independence so many of her college friends were still struggling to achieve, but still felt like she was missing something.
“Besides, you do realize that no one really has it all figured out yet, and anyone who says they do is basically lying, right?”
“Breakfast Club?” Hesitating, she quickly amended her answer. “No, wait—Reality Bites!”
“For the win,” he said, acknowledging the correct response.
Even when using movie-trivia-speak, he managed somehow to put everything in perspective. He was always good for her in that way.
The last thing she wanted to do, however, was weigh this time together down with heavy thoughts. She already worried all morning that she might have scared him off. For the time being, she intended to keep things light.
“Hey, did you hear about the shark sightings?”
“Yeah, I actually spotted a few out past the Lighthouse last summer, too.”
“Okay—which one?” she said, reverting back to a familiar old pastime. It was a game they started one summer afternoon out on the island, after misjudging the tide and getting stranded there for hours. “Attacked by a great white or by a whole school of hungry piranhas?”
He rested his head back against the deck chair to give this some consideration.
“So, we’re talking getting torn apart and eaten in a couple of big chunks, or being gnawed away at with a thousand razor-like little teeth?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well, despite the fact I find that glimpse into your mind to be rather disturbing, I guess I’d have to go with the shark.” He turned to let his eyes drift over her. “How ‘bout you?”
“I’m not sure.” She paused in careful contemplation. “I’m thinking the piranhas? There is the possibility you could quickly lose consciousness from extreme blood loss, thereby hindering any chance of escape.”
“And a seventeen foot long shark lopping off an entire limb to instantly sever major arteries—that wouldn’t involve a bit of blood loss, ya think?”
“Oh. Yeah, I suppose you have a point. So why pick it then?”
“Because sharks can be easily hypnotized.” He smiled faintly off her look. “I’m serious. I saw it on the internet.”
“Then it must be true.”
“Okay, my turn…following your lead,” he said with a lazy sigh. “A hundred filthy sewer rats or one giant rabid water buffalo?”
“Well, hold on, because I once spotted a rat over near Fisherman’s Wharf that could have been mistaken for a Rottweiler.”
“These are merely hypotheticals. Just play the game, Finn.”
“Sorry, but size does matter.”
“Does it?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Do we have a final ruling on that?”
The minute the words left her lips, the heat of embarrassment was already spreading out from the pit of her stomach, but his (to be expected) reaction only turned her cheeks a brighter shade of pink.
“Okay.” She stumbled in her reply, “I, um—wow, you know what?” She sat up quickly in her chair. “I think I’m going in for a swim.”
Pushing up from the chaise to stand, she discreetly adjusted her bikini, trying not to make her discomfort too apparent.
“I think I’ll go, too.” Matt sat upright, tilting his head to squint up at her expectantly. “Race you down?”
Rory hesitated, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips as he tugged his shirt off. “Sure,” she replied nonchalantly before bolting towards the stairs with a triumphant laugh. “If you’re prepared to lose!”
“Oh, I don’t think so!”
<
br /> He jumped up from the chair to cross the deck in the opposite direction. Placing one hand on the rail for balance, he hopped over the side, landing with a thud in the yard below before dashing after her through the dunes.
As the beach was clearing out, they didn’t have to worry about disturbing sunbathers on towels by kicking up sand, so they both tore down the beach at top speed. Matt passed her easily in the final strides and, doing a small sideways flip, he dove into the waves with a huge splash, followed by her in one swift, fluid motion.
Spurred on by the adrenaline of the race, both strong swimmers, they swam hard against the current, their strokes determinedly cutting through the water for several yards before they slowed to a stop to tread water.
“You cheated!” She pushed the drenched strands of hair out of her eyes as she gasped for breath.
“There were no rules implied!” Matt raised his hands in defense before swiping his dripping wet face. “I can’t be accused of cheating if there were no rules.”
She only laughed, slapping her hand across the water to splash him, but picked up a random piece of seaweed in the motion. It hit him directly between the eyes.
“Oops.” She bit back her smile as he wiped the slimy substance off with a grimace. “Sorry.”
“Okay, that’s it.” His voice held the edge of a growl before he took a gulp of air and then submerged under the choppy waves.
“Matt! Don’t you dare!”
She tried to swim away, still laughing and breathless, but only paddled a few feet, unsure where he might come up. The swells in the dark blue ocean water this far out made it impossible to try to detect what might be lurking just under its movable surface.
Suddenly he burst through right behind her, grabbing her around the waist.
“Matt!”
“Shh…don’t struggle,” he chuckled, before turning his head to spit out a mouthful of salty water. “It might attract the sharks!”
She laughed again, resting her hand on his forearm as he slid it a little more snuggly around her bare midsection, using his other arm to keep afloat as they treaded water. He tilted his body back, extending the arm in a lazy, crooked backstroke. Rory let herself relax into his hold, taking a breather to rest her weary limbs and instead let him be her guide through the tidal current. It had been so long since he’d held her in any way.
Had To Be You Page 29
