The Bride Next Door

by Hope Ramsay

  Arwen pulled back. “What are you talking about?”

  “Matt is responsible for everything. I—”

  Arwen shook her head and turned her back as she stalked to the bar. “Oh, come on, Courtney. Don’t. You’ve got to stop judging people that way.”

  “But…” Courtney’s voice faded out as she followed Arwen back to the bar.

  “Where’s Rory?” Arwen asked Steve, the afternoon bartender.

  Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. His shift doesn’t start until five thirty.”

  Arwen checked her watch. “Damn.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Steve asked Arwen.

  Arwen drummed her fingers on the bar top for a long moment before she spoke. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll take a margarita, frozen, with salt.” Then she turned toward Courtney. “I’m just going to have one, okay? And then I’m going to call him.”

  “Call who?”

  Arwen took a gigantic sigh and let it out. “I’m sorry, Court. I’ve been keeping something from you. To be honest, I’ve been keeping it from myself because I’m a wuss and a weenie.”

  “You are not a wuss. You’re my friend…I think.”

  Arwen’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I should have called you and had a long talk about this. But I was just so confused. And scared. You know, all I’ve ever wanted to do was write music and sing. But I hate being on the stage, and nobody ever listens. Except Rory, and you, and Melissa when she comes, which isn’t very often. And it’s not just the music. I’m so wishy-washy. Look at me. I have no style. My hair is brown and limp. I’m flat-chested. All these years I’ve just been waiting around, you know, for real life to start.”

  Steve interrupted Arwen’s confused rant. She snatched up the margarita and took a gigantic gulp. Clearly Arwen was trying to anesthetize herself too. How many women could Matt Lyndon slay in one afternoon?

  “Honey, you’re not wishy-washy. Have you even listened to your own songs?”

  Arwen put her glass down with more force than was necessary. “I am wishy-washy. And you know how I know that? A few weeks ago, someone called me on the fact that I’ve been punting the ball my entire life. Working in a soul-sucking job where no one appreciates me. Walking the straight and narrow in order to avoid rocking any boats. And even though I knew he was right, I didn’t have the guts to face the truth. I ran away. Buried myself. And pretended that everything was great. But it’s not.” Her lower lip trembled, and tears filled her eyes. She picked up her glass and took another gigantic swallow of her drink.

  Courtney dug in her purse and offered Arwen a tissue, which she accepted. “Honey, you have a great job. A great relationship with your parents. And a talent for writing killer lyrics. It could be a whole lot worse. Don’t let one guy ruin your self-image. Please.”

  Courtney dabbed mascara from her cheeks and hauled in a huge breath. “He didn’t ruin my self-image. He revealed it. And you know what? I couldn’t even see it until Matt showed up. I mean, that guy was scared out of his mind the first time we met with Leslie, but he faced that fear like, I don’t know, a hero. And then he pushed me to organize a clandestine meeting with a source inside the county government, and I felt like I was in the middle of a murder mystery or something. And then, even when he knew he’d been beat, he still fought. And he did all that knowing it would get him in trouble. I don’t think I’ve ever met a braver man. And I figured, if he can be brave, maybe I can too.” She balled up the tissue and hoisted her margarita.

  Oh boy, Arwen really had it bad for Matt. And Courtney could certainly understand how that might happen. If you ignored Matt’s womanizing, the guy had some pretty terrific qualities. But how could you ignore his womanizing? Her own heart squeezed in her chest, but she refused to give in to the hurt. Arwen needed her to be strong.

  “Let’s get one thing clear,” Courtney said. “Matt’s not a hero. Remember he made you feel wishy-washy. Look at how he’s crushed your self-esteem. This is precisely what Hook-up Artists do, Arwen.”

  Arwen choked on her drink.

  “It’s okay,” Courtney said, patting her back. “I don’t blame you. Just because he was sleeping with both of us doesn’t have to wreck our friendship. I mean, it’s on him, not—”

  “What?” Arwen’s words came out as one-part cough.

  “You heard me.” Courtney lowered her voice into a whisper. “I failed to follow my own advice. I…well…the thing is…he moved in next door and…”

  “Oh my God, you’re sleeping with Matthew Lyndon?” Arwen said this in a loud voice. Thank God it was a few minutes past three on a weekday afternoon and the Jaybird was deserted.

  “Keep your voice down. I know it’s a shock. I mean, I didn’t realize he was two-timing us until I saw you with him this morning.”

  Arwen blinked at Courtney for fifteen awkward seconds before she burst out laughing.

  “What?”

  “I’m not sleeping with Matt,” Arwen managed between belly laughs.

  “You’re not? But—”

  “But what?”

  “You kissed him.”

  “Yeah, on the cheek. Because, well, he’s a great guy. He could have punted on those people, Courtney. He could have done what I’ve been doing for years. He could have accepted the injustice and walked away. But he wouldn’t. He kept picking at it. And now he’s created a huge shit storm.” Her voice wavered.

  “What kind of shit storm?” The knot in Courtney’s stomach was beginning to loosen, and a strange, almost euphoric sense of relief percolated through her.

  “Well, for starters, he’s gotten me fired from LL&K.” Arwen’s voice wobbled.

  “What? And you think he’s a hero?”

  “Yeah. I do. I would never have left LL&K on my own. He did me a huge favor, Courtney. Now I just need to find the courage to follow through.”

  “Follow through how?”

  Arwen pulled her purse from the hook under the bar and dug around in it for a moment before withdrawing a small folded piece of paper. She held it up. “By calling the number on this Post-it note.”

  “Okay, and whose number is it?”

  Arwen blushed a spectacular shade of pink. She leaned in and whispered, “Rory Ahern’s.”

  “Rory?”

  She nodded. “He listens to my music.”

  He was also covered in tattoos, had a bad-boy vibe and a dangerously sexy Irish lilt to the way he spoke. Not the kind of guy Courtney would have chosen for Arwen. But then again, who was she to do the choosing? Wasn’t that the lesson she needed to learn here?

  A huge wave of remorse and guilt hit her bloodstream. She’d screwed up. Big-time. What an idiot she’d been. About so many things.

  “So, ah, you and Rory?” Courtney managed to ask through the ache in her chest.

  Arwen shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been running from him for a couple of weeks. And really, we only hooked up for a few days.”

  Courtney refrained from suggesting that running from Rory might be a good thing. Maybe it was time for her to quit passing judgment. “So you’re going to stop running?” she asked instead.

  Arwen nodded. “Yeah. I am. And if he breaks my heart, at least I won’t have any regrets. Maybe I’ll pull up stakes and move to Nashville the way Rory wants me to.”

  Another shaft to the heart. “I don’t want you to leave. Everyone’s leaving or getting married or…”

  Arwen patted Courtney’s back. “I’m not going to hop on his bike and run away. He might have suggested that, but I’m not that crazy. If I moved to Nashville, it would be something I plan. But I’m not ruling it out, okay?”

  “Okay. And I’m, uh, sorry about the—”

  “Damn,” Arwen said. “Tell me you didn’t accuse Matt of sleeping with me.”

  “Uh, yeah, I sort of did.”

  “Oh my God. You need to go talk to him. He needs you. I wasn’t the only one fired today.”

  “Matt lost his job?”

  Arwen nodded. “His
own father canned him. He was marched out of the office like he’d committed some kind of high crime or misdemeanor.”

  Matt sprawled on his couch watching MSNBC without paying much attention. The drone of the commentator helped him to keep his emotions distant, which was fine with him because he didn’t want to parse through them. He didn’t want to open himself up and try to examine what had just happened.

  Besides, dissecting his feelings would do nothing to change them. He’d never wanted to be a country lawyer, so it was no surprise that he’d failed so spectacularly. He’d never wanted to be Don Quixote either.

  Tilting at windmills had its downsides. Linda’s protests wouldn’t change a thing. Not when Jerry Beyer could reach out with his influence and twist the world. People said blood was thicker than water, but that wasn’t true in the Lyndon family. Jerry Beyer gave money to Heather, and Heather outranked him because she was smarter and more accomplished.

  So he sat alone in his living room, waiting. Always waiting. But for what? The answer came to him when Courtney knocked on his door and said, “I need to apologize.”

  Yes, she did. But did he want her apology? Somehow the apology meant less than the trust he longed for. The trust she couldn’t seem to give. Maybe part of that was his fault. But who knew?

  He couldn’t let her stand in the hallway, so he dragged himself from the couch and opened the door to find her standing in the hallway with Dr. Doom cuddled in her arms. Everything about her posture screamed regret, from the slope of her shoulders to the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

  “I just had a long talk with Arwen,” she said in a trembling voice. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions the way I did, and I understand why I’ve lost your trust. Here’s Dr. Doom.” She held the cat out to him. It was one hell of a peace offering since she’d brought over her favorite cat—the cuddly one. And yet some stubborn part of him still wanted more.

  “Don’t you want him?” Her voice seemed ready to crack open.

  His chest tightened with a swirl of emotion he wanted to keep at bay. He couldn’t answer her question because he was too confused, angry, lost.

  She took a step into the room. “I know you lost your job. I’m so, so sorry about that. And I know my behavior this morning was…I don’t know…unacceptable. I probably can’t ever get your trust back. And deservedly so. But I do care about you. Can we talk about this?”

  He shook his head. “Look, I’m too angry right now. I’m not even sure what happened, not just with you and me but with my father. And—”

  “I should never have encouraged you to give all that dirt to Linda Petersen. I mean, I should have realized that getting Linda involved would create huge problems for you. Willow even warned me about it.”

  “Warned you? How?”

  She shrugged. “Just that the Lyndon family is sometimes…” Her voice faded out.

  “Yeah, my family.” A painful bolt of fury struck him in the chest. His family. His father in particular had done his best over the years to mold him into someone he had never wanted to be.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice got thin, and a tear escaped one of her eyes.

  He couldn’t stand to watch her cry, so he turned his back and took a couple of steps into the room. “You’re not responsible for my family. They’ve always been difficult. And living up to the Lyndon ideal is impossible.”

  “So don’t.”

  He stopped and turned. Goddammit, she was so beautiful. Despite the pain she’d inflicted this morning, he still admired the way she could cut through the bullshit and speak the unvarnished truth. He didn’t have to live up to their expectations. He could be like Amy or Daniel or David, all of whom had rebelled at one time or another.

  But was that what he needed? It sure wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was something else altogether.

  “Look, I’m exhausted,” he finally said. “And I’m angry and disappointed and kinda lost, if you want to know the truth. I don’t need your commentary on my life. I don’t need you to dissect me or inspect me or shove me in a pigeonhole. I don’t need your advice about how to live or how to be or how to deal with my family. What I want is…you. All of you. Right now.” His little speech was so utterly inarticulate. How could he put this feeling into words? All he wanted was a place to rest his head. A place where he didn’t have to perform. Where he didn’t have to be anything. A place to call home. He bit down on his back molars to keep from saying more. He’d screw it up if he kept talking. And besides, how could Courtney give him what he truly wanted when she couldn’t even trust him?

  Courtney put Dr. Doom down and moved to stand in front of him. He stifled the urge to reach out to her. The last time he’d truly opened up to a woman, she’d manipulated him in the worst way. And he’d trusted Allison. Courtney, not so much.

  Still, when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, he let himself sink into that warmth. Just for tonight, he told himself. Just for this moment, when the world had unraveled. Making love to her wouldn’t solve any of his problems. She didn’t have the answers he needed to find himself. But it was enough just to be with her, in her arms, forgetting about the father who had never believed in him. About the world he couldn’t change. About the woman he couldn’t trust and who clearly didn’t trust him.

  Their lovemaking was excruciatingly tender, as if they had reached a deeper connection somehow. And when he left her breathless and spent, she almost said the words she’d been holding back.

  Thank goodness her instincts for survival kicked in before she opened herself up completely. Because the minute they were done, he rolled away, presenting his back to her and driving home the point. He didn’t love her.

  And she didn’t blame him.

  She’d learned her lesson. Maybe there was value in pinning labels on people if all you wanted was an excuse not to care, not to love, not to get too involved. But she’d crossed that line a while ago with Matt. She’d been hoping that he wasn’t like the stereotypes on her list, but she’d gone right ahead and pigeonholed him anyway.

  Stupid woman. If she couldn’t trust him, she couldn’t love him. And vice versa. His solid back said it all. In one foolish act of jealousy, she’d destroyed whatever trust they’d been building together over the last couple of weeks.

  For the first time in her life, she had no one to blame but herself. And it mortified her to think that she’d hurt him so badly that he hadn’t even been able to accept her apology. The sex had been about comfort, not love and not hate. It had been sweet and kind, but it was the last time. She knew that now.

  She lay in his bed for a long time fighting her tears. She had no right to cry in his presence. When his breathing evened out in sleep, she gathered her clothes, dressed in the darkness, and left him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Arwen drank two margaritas and ate a whole plate of loaded potato skins while she waited for Rory to show up for his shift. She probably should have gone directly to his apartment, but who knows what she might have said or done? She didn’t trust herself around him, especially not in his bedroom. And she wasn’t about to capitulate. If he wanted something lasting, there had to be movement on both sides.

  Her determination to control their meeting evaporated the moment Rory strolled through the door, wearing faded jeans that hugged his hips and the black T-shirt that displayed his beautiful tattoos. He took several steps into the café before he spied her at the bar.

  He stopped, and the expression on his face softened somehow. The folds above his eyebrows evened out, the corners of his eyes turned up, and his stubborn mouth relaxed. In that moment, the bad boy morphed into something else. Something both dark but also romantic. No, he wasn’t the kind of man who would take her to a fancy restaurant, but he was the kind of man who listened to her songs and believed in her.

  Arwen’s core exploded. She’d missed him. She’d missed the sex, but more than that, she’d missed the way he looked at her, as if she were something gr
and and special.

  He continued toward her, stopping when he’d thoroughly invaded her space. “You’re here,” he said. “I was after missing you, love. Every day this last week or two. Are you back to stay?”

  “Um, you got a minute, out in the alley?”

  He nodded, and she followed him through the ready room and out into the alleyway, which was far less romantic in the afternoon light than it was in the dark.

  “So,” she said once the door shut behind them, “are you going to move away?”

  His shoulder hitched, and he broke eye contact. “Linda offered to rent her upstairs bedroom to me if I couldn’t find a better flat somewhere close. And Juni gave me a raise. Said she couldn’t manage the place without me.”

  A wave of relief washed through Arwen. “Thank God. I was afraid you were going to take off for parts unknown.”

  He looked back at her, his blue eyes filled with emotion. “How could I do that, love? When I understood that you needed to stay?” He took a step toward her. “Look, maybe I didn’t make myself plain. I want you, Arwen. I care about you. And I want to see you succeed.”

  Arwen’s heart cracked open a little. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand that at first. And I’m…I’m blown away that you believe in me. I mean the part of me that I don’t believe in myself.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “But here’s the thing. I can’t change everything about me. I mean, I’m uptight. I want to be more relaxed, but I’m never going to be a rebel. And I’m never going to be happy with you unless you change. And I would never ask you to change. It’s got to be something you want for yourself.”

  “I know,” he repeated. “I’ve never had a reason to change or to stay anywhere for very long. I’ve been a rolling stone for a long time. But…” He stopped for a moment, taking a breath and stepping closer. “I never had anyone who cared either. There’s nothing for me back in Ireland. In a lot of ways, I found a home here at the Jaybird. And you’re the most important part of that home.”