Had To Be You (17 page)

He tilted his head, bringing his mouth down a fraction of an inch closer. Her bottom lip trembled in anticipation.

How long had it been? Minutes, hours, days…Rory felt like somewhere hidden deep, something inside her just
knew
, with accuracy down to the very second. In that moment, it felt like all that existed in her world was just this torturous ache of longing. It overwhelmed.

Suddenly, a group of younger children from the party burst into the kitchen, laughing and shouting as they ran past. Matt and Rory immediately broke apart.

“I—I have to go,” he mumbled, as if it was something he just now realized.

She only nodded, unable to find her voice. He hesitated a fraction of a second, meeting her eyes one last time, and then disappeared out the door.

Rory slumped back against the kitchen counter, uncertain if her trembling legs could continue to hold her up, but in the next moment she was hurrying away as fast as they would take her. If she hadn’t glanced up at exactly the right moment, she would have smacked directly into Todd and his group of friends.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” He raised his brow and laughed, lightly grasping her shoulder when she instinctively stepped back.

Rory offered an apology, but there was a deep, endless ache hidden inside her raspy reply. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. And don’t tell anyone,” he lowered his tone with a conspiratorial grin, “but we were kind of getting ready to blow this clambake as well. Are you from around here? Any good bars in town?”

She nodded slowly. “A few.”

His smile spread. “Well, care to lead the way?”

Rory shifted her gaze, meeting Matt’s dark stare one last time through the crowd.

“Sure. Why not?”

TEN

Matt pulled off the main route, his truck swaying over the small bumps in the unpaved road that led down to the beach. With his elbow propped in the open window, he rubbed tiredly at his eye with the palm of his hand. He tossed and turned in bed last night until the rising sun started to brighten the sky outside his window, before finally giving up. He headed down to the bar to do some inventory instead. That made the third time this week he couldn’t sleep.

Easing into the driveway to cut the engine, he paused briefly before he climbed out of the truck to trudge up the stairs of the deck. He slowed to a halt when he reached the top.

She was partially reclined in one of the padded wooden deck chairs in tiny white shorts and a powder blue bikini top, a pair of dark sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose so he couldn’t quite tell if she was awake or asleep.

His eyes drifted down to the rise and fall of her chest, simply to determine the patterns of her breathing, but he had to quickly avert his gaze when he found himself staring at that perfect arc where the soft underside of her round breast curved against the smooth flat planes of her toned and tanned stomach. Silently berating himself, he recovered quickly, and crossed the deck to drop down into the matching chair next to hers.

“Hey.”

She turned her head, long hair piled up off her shoulders, and lifted her sunglasses. “Hey yourself,” she replied, neither her eyes nor her voice giving anything away.

It always drove him crazy—in both good and bad ways—that she had the ability to do that, perfecting the ultimate poker face. She was always a lot better at pretending nothing happened than he was.

He glanced away towards the beach. “You left the party without saying goodbye.”

Rory shook her head and her long hair, already a full shade lighter from the sun, spilled down in silky waves. Something shifted underneath her expression, a quicksilver reaction to his question, gone before it could be accurately defined.

“You were busy.”

“Too busy to say goodnight to an old friend? I don’t think so. Anyway, you looked a bit preoccupied yourself.” Keeping an even tone, he tried not to grimace. Still, it hurt to ask. “So, who was the guy?”

“What’s it to you?”

A wry smile quirked at the edge of his mouth, and he allowed himself a lingering glimpse. She still had the same tough attitude, still had all her defenses up, and probably still had no idea just how beautiful she actually was. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, how bitter his beer tasted as he watched her walk away with someone else. Nor did he want to admit to what he felt when she told him of her impending breakup with the guy in New York. Matt didn’t want to admit he cared either way—and had been trying to convince himself of that for the better part of the last two days.

“Seriously, what was that all about? Do you even know him?”

“Apparently he’s related to your soon-to-be-wife. Some second cousin once removed. Do you even know
her
?”

Matt buried a sigh. He knew he had no right to feel this way, and he certainly had no right to cross-examine, but he couldn’t stop himself. “And where did you go?”

“We just went downtown to a bar. With all his friends. I was home by ten—
alone
. Why?”

She had him there.

He briefly abandoned his line of questioning. The sun’s rays beat down upon his shoulders, and he eased down to recline in the lounge chair next to her.

After another moment, Rory tilted her head to glance at him.

“Did the party go late?”

“I guess. I actually left before it was really over to help close up at O’Shea’s. Though I can’t say I saw you there, in
my
bar, so thanks for all your patronage and support.” He turned his head slightly to regard her as well, eyes narrowing. “So, this guy? Did he give you a ride back here?”

“I know my way home, Matt.”

He decided it was best to let it go at that. If there was anything he had learned over all these years, it was not to push. That never got him anywhere with her.

A slightly strained silence settled over them for a brief while, the sounds of the beach drifting up on the sea breezes, children’s shouts and laughter, the cries of gulls, and the rush and recede of the surf.

“Have you decided how long you’re staying?” he finally asked.

“Not really. It depends,” she replied rather cryptically, and without looking at him. “Why? Do you want me out of here?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. He then tried to prompt her, needing a little bit more information, not understanding why suddenly she could drop everything to take a last minute extended vacation. “But what about work?”

“It will still be there when I get back.”

Again with the short answers. He tried not to show his frustration.

Rory suddenly shifted in the chair, easing more upright, and the slinky strap of her blue bikini slipped down a bit over the curve of her bare shoulder, revealing a partial glimpse of the soft, pale dome of her breast.

“Here,” he murmured, his voice going soft and deep as he lifted his hand.

His fingertips slid over satin skin, lightly grazing all that warm electricity, to ease it back up over her shoulder. Reflexively, Rory reached up at the same time, her fingers brushing and tangling with his as she glanced up from under the protective shade of her sunglasses.

In that brief unguarded moment, Matt could see the tiny flecks of gold and brown and green in her unique aquamarine eyes. Instantly, he was brought back to the brief moment they’d shared at the party. Perhaps it was this unexpected kaleidoscope of colors that always caused him to feel so dizzy and short of breath when caught up in her gaze.

“Thanks,” she mumbled distractedly. She pressed her lips together in that way she always did when she had something weighing on her mind. “And, um, since you’re here? There is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

There was a time when they could talk to each other about anything. In fact, she was the one person he could always count on in that way.

“I guess just…life.”

For a moment, he was half expecting sarcasm again, but her response seemed genuine.

“Life, eh?” He rubbed a hand over his hair, striking a thoughtful pose. “So, how’s it treating you these days?”

“Honestly? Not so great,” she said. “But I think I’ve come to some decisions.”

“Life-type decisions?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what are they?” he asked. “Lay ‘em on me.”

“I’ve decided that I want to be happy.”

“A good one.” Matt nodded. “One I happen to agree with.”

“But see, therein lies my problem.” Her voice softened and she seemed to be watching him for a reaction. “I don’t think life happens to agree with me. Not right now. Nothing is the way I imagined, and I think I only have myself to blame. I made some pretty big mistakes. Matt…I think I might have really messed things up.”

He frowned in concern. She had known so much unhappiness when they were kids, that his hope was always that she would find her own happiness—someday, somewhere. He didn’t like hearing this.

“Well, what do you mean? Why do you think that?”

Matt hoped he didn’t have to remind her who she was talking to here. He hoped she could still tell him anything, and he hoped nothing was really wrong in her life.

Her lips parted in response, but before she could speak, they were interrupted by the muffled ring of his cell phone.

“You should get that,” she said with a soft sigh.

He sat forward to pull it from the pocket of his shorts and felt an immediate, undeniable pang of guilt when he saw the number displayed.

“Hello?”

“
Matt
?” Amanda sounded almost worried on the other end of the line—worried, yet still irritated. “Where are you?”

“Ah, where are you?” was his brilliant retort.

“I’m at your apartment. We had plans today, remember?”

“Oh, I was just, ah…I’m at my brother’s
,
” he replied, fumbling with the phone in hand as he quickly moved to stand.

“
It figures
.”
Amanda let out a slightly bothered sigh
. “
Well, I’ll just come pick you up there.”

“No!” Matt jumped to reply. “That’s, um—that’s okay. I’m on my way out right now. I’ll be there in like ten minutes. Okay, bye.”

Rory gazed up at him as he ended the call.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m late to meet Amanda,” he explained, glancing around the deck as he patted his pockets absently. “I want to hear what you were going to say, though. Whatever is going on, you know I’m here, right?”

She only glanced away.

“I still—I still get to care about you, Rory.”

With a slight tilt of her head, she only gave him a brief flick of her eyes. “You should probably go, Matt. You don’t want to keep her waiting.”

He dropped his head to blow out another quick sigh, his chest suddenly feeling tight, and turned to leave.

“All right, then. I guess we’ll finish this later.”

***

The thumping beat of music reverberated through the low rumble of voices and laughter, the jostling push of the crowd closing in all around like a choppy tide. Tilting his head back to finish off his beer, Matt briefly wondered about the time. They had come straight from a long day of landscaping, Murph’s uncle rewarding them with a few cold beers in what was becoming a Friday afternoon tradition. After a quick shower, it was even more beers out on Pat Connelly’s harbor-facing deck, with both his parents away for the weekend.

Now, here they were at some party at Lighthouse Landing, and it was all catching up with him. He was tired; his weary bones aching for home. But he wasn’t quite prepared to deal with the crap he knew he would get if he actually tried to leave.

“O’Shea! What’s happenin’ buddy?”

Murph made his reappearance, his arm now slung around the waist of the girl he’d been working on since they arrived. Matt had to admit she was attractive; her slinky body squeezed into a tight mini dress, seemingly very fond of tossing about her long, shiny auburn hair—as was her equally shiny blonde-haired friend wearing a pale silk dress that resembled lingerie. He just didn’t find the friend to be quite as irresistible as Murph wanted him to at the moment.

“Dude, seriously.” Murph leaned in close to speak in furtive, hushed tones as the two females giggled together behind him. “We could move this to a more private party back at Pat’s house. She’s been asking about you all night, wanting to know if you’re single. Which, do I even need to remind you—you are!”

“Yeah, but I gotta get up pretty early in the morning,” Matt replied, realizing just how lame the excuse sounded as soon as it left his lips.

As expected, Murph only gave him a look to indicate he wouldn’t dignify it with a reply.

He quickly forced a smile when Murph moved away and the blonde slid in closer, deliberately holding his gaze a beat as she touched her full red lips to the rim of her beer bottle.

“Where did you say you were from again?” he asked, feeling like it required an enormous effort to make such small talk.

“We’re from the south shore.”

“Really? And so what brings you all the way up here?”

Matt furrowed his brow and ducked his head down slightly, unable to hear her reply over the music—though he wasn’t really giving it his attention.

“Murph was telling us that you guys have a place nearby?” she finished, speaking up louder now.

“He did, huh?” He covered a wry grin, imagining just how pleased Mr. and Mrs. Connelly would be to hear that. “Yeah, well, kind of, I guess.”

“It’s getting a little too crowded here.” Proving to be quite the paradox, she eased in even closer still. “Maybe we could go back there?”

Before he could come up with a reply, Matt felt the slight vibration of his cell phone. Digging it out from the pocket of his khaki shorts, he glanced at the incoming number.

“Will you excuse me just a minute?” he said, already stepping around past her to find a quieter spot. Bowing his head, he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”