Had To Be You (32 page)

“What?” she said, smoothing the wet hair back off her forehead.

He slid off his board, feet hitting sand as well. And his smile spread slowly.

“You just called me loveable.”

She hesitated, cheeks flushed. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did. You just said it. You said I was loveable.”

“I said you were a jerk. And a goof. And a dumbass.”

“A loveable jerk. Loveable, meaning one who attracts love.” He tilted his head. “Ergo, you love me—and are also very possibly attracted to me.”

Rory shook her head, trudging in through the low rolling waves that splashed at their ankles, but she refused to look directly at him.

“You’ve read maybe one book in the last two years and suddenly you’re an expert in the English language?”

He waded in behind her, chuckling softly under his breath.

“Maybe I’m just an expert in the language of love.”

She dragged her board up onto the sand, rolling her eyes at him as she tried not to laugh, too.

“You can admit it, Rory. All your hidden feelings.” He dropped his board on top of hers, and reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. “It will feel better to just let it out.”

Narrowing her gaze, she tried not to notice how soft and warm his hand felt on her bare skin, or how blue his eyes looked against his tan.

“You know what would make me feel better right now?” she asked.

“What?”

“This.”

She gave him a quick, hard shove in the center of his smooth chest, easily toppling him when the backs of his muscled calves hit the two surfboards behind him. He landed flat on his ass in the sand.

“Oh, you are so dead!” he laughed grimly, jumping right back up.

Rory stifled a little shriek of laughter as she darted away, but he cut her off at the pass. She turned, shifting directions, and ran straight into the water with him closing in behind.

Splashing through the shallow tide, the salty spray kicked up in brilliant metallic shimmers all around them in the softly fading sunlight. She gasped in breathless laughter as he caught her knee-deep in the waves, grabbing her at the waist to swing her around.

“Matt, no!”

He held her sideways, arm slung around her midsection.

“What? You don’t want to go for a little dunk?”

“No!” she pleaded.

“Then just admit you love me.”

He righted her, adjusting his hold to place her down in front of him in the water. Her feet touched bottom, the gentle nudge of the tidal current sending her right into him on an incoming wave. Her hands went up instinctively for balance, fingertips resting gently on his bare stomach.

Matt glanced down to where she touched him. As he lifted his eyes back to hers, she knew he was no longer joking.

There was a moment where neither one of them moved a muscle, or even seemed to breathe. Then his hands came up to gently hold her face. Slowly, tentatively, his mouth came down on hers. For the first time ever, Rory didn’t pull back or push away, but lifted her chin to meet him halfway.

The touch of his lips was soft and warm, the kiss wet and sparkling, and it sent the strangest sort of golden, thrilling calm throughout her whole body.

It felt just like her favorite time of day.

TWENTY-THREE

The heat continued to rise throughout the day, temperatures soaring with the humidity. Instead of offering relief in the form of a quick rain shower, the clouds only settled on the horizon, thick and heavy and full of empty promises.

The church where the ceremony was being held sat on a small harbor bluff, but the ocean wasn’t playing along either. It refused to cast even the slightest gust of wind their way. A local historic landmark, built sometime in the 1700s, it still had the original state-of-the-art air conditioning system installed at that time—small, thick paned glass windows. As a result, the atmosphere inside, uncomfortable wooden benches crowded with elegantly (and therefore overly) dressed guests, ranged from stuffy to stifling to downright oppressive.

Rory shifted in her seat, glancing around to see men discreetly wiping perspiration from their brows, women using the programs that were handed out at the door as makeshift fans. She hadn’t picked up a program. She really didn’t need anything to commemorate this day. She had a feeling she would remember it just fine all on her own, and then more often in therapy.

“When the
hell
is this thing going to start?” Jill grumbled under her breath, awkwardly shifting positions on the bench.

“Jill, dear…” Mrs. Feeney’s soft voice of reprimand followed the outburst.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she nodded with feigned contriteness as she went to amend her previous statement. “When the
fu
—”

“Jill Marie Feeney!”

Rory bit back her amusement, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. It had to suck to be pregnant in this heat.

She glanced over at her. “How are you holding up?”

“It actually wouldn’t be so bad,” Jill admitted, “if my back wasn’t bothering me so much. I went for an extra-long walk yesterday and think I pulled a muscle or something. I already have enough trouble sleeping, but last night was really bad. My old bed seemed too soft; the couch in the den seemed too hard. Nothing was just right.”

“So much for the theory of Goldilocks,” Rory said with a sigh.

“Seriously, could these benches be any more uncomfortable?” Jill grumbled as she turned back to her mother. “Was there some necessary reason back then that observing one’s religion had to equal constant pain and suffering?”

“Actually, yes,” her mother replied drily, but then her face lit up. “You know, when Dad has his hemorrhoid flare-ups, he uses a driving pillow. It’s right out in the car. I could go get that.”

She shook her head with a grimace. “No, Mom, really. That’s so not necessary.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Feeney said. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” She stood from her seat, and Rory moved to let her pass by. “I’ll be right back, dear.”

“Driving pillow?” Rory couldn’t help but grin a little.

Jill rolled her eyes heavenward. “Oh, the indignity.”

The respectful quiet of the church was broken only occasionally by a cough or spoken murmur, and then a few strains of music from the organ in the choir loft. It offered Rory no distraction from the dull, gnawing pain in her stomach or the sickening flutter of her heart in her throat as she braced herself for what was to come. She had pretty much cried her eyes dry, however, so at least there wouldn’t be that embarrassment.

Casey Conroy suddenly made her appearance, pausing at the end of their pew with an expectant smile. Her blonde hair was swept up in a twist and she was wearing an extremely low-cut cocktail dress.

They shifted over to make room. So much for maintaining a low profile at a church gathering. At least Rory had the good sense to go with an appropriate dress that was a little more demure—and as black as the bride’s cold, cold heart.

She paused to frown. Where did that come from?

“Luke is holding down the fort at the bar,” Casey glanced over to explain as she moved in to sit with them. “He’s meeting me later at the reception. We decided one of us should really be here at the ceremony for Matt. I guess I drew the short straw, huh?”

Jill responded with a soft snort of amusement, but Rory only managed a brief smile. She supposed it would be easier to try to excuse or explain it away like that, like it were a contest or game, and she somehow came up short in life. The truth, however, was that she once had everything, right there in front of her. All she had to do was choose it.

Instead, she let it all slip away.

***

Matt wandered along the circular gravel path, his head bowed as pebbles crunched under his feet with each step. He was in the small garden courtyard hidden behind the church wall, having needed to step outside the tiny closet-sized waiting room behind the altar that he, Danny and Kevin had been stuffed into when they arrived.

With these temperatures, he was near desperate for some fresh air. He also felt that, within potential earshot of the minister, there was an entire litany of wholly inappropriate jokes that were likely to slip off his tongue if he didn’t get out of there.

He felt so suffocated and trapped, in fact, that he began to wonder if he might have actually developed an acute case of debilitating claustrophobia. Perhaps it was something that required immediate medical attention and lengthy hospitalization—or at least be brought to the attention of some research specialists for the sake of science.

Tugging at his tuxedo shirt collar, he grumbled and muttered to himself. It had to be close to a hundred degrees today. Maybe he was suffering from heat stroke. He heard that could cause a person to experience some sort of altered perception or delusional thoughts. Wouldn’t that, technically, make him not of sound mind? One certainly couldn’t be held responsible for one’s actions if not of sound mind. People could even get out of legally binding contracts, free and clear, for that reason alone. And wouldn’t a marriage be considered a legally binding contract?

Then Matt had to wonder who were these people who make the official decision and declaration that one is not of sound mind. Do they advertise in the yellow pages? Do they make house calls? Or—simply for the sake of argument, of course—church calls?

He rubbed his hand over his face, blowing out a shaky sigh. He couldn’t do this anymore.

This was it. His time was up.

Empty thunder rumbled in the distance and, when he glanced up at the clouds, his eyes landed on the tall, white steeple of the church. That was when Matt had what he guessed was as close to a religious experience as he’d ever had.

Without a full night’s sleep in weeks, tossing and turning, at a loss as to what he was feeling, mired in confusion, racked with ambiguity, as he stared up at that steeple pointing skywards it was as if the full weight of reality was thrown into sharp relief.

And Matt realized he did love Amanda. That was why he couldn’t marry her.

He finally had his reason.

Taking a deep breath, he crossed the courtyard with wide strides. Danny and Kevin were still waiting in the room for the ceremony to begin. He paused in the doorway, frozen.

Danny glanced over to regard him with a troubled frown. “Matt, what is it?”

“I, ah—I can’t…um…” Suddenly remembering the congregation of seated wedding guests just beyond the wall of the room, Matt tried to actually verbalize it, yet felt caught in the grips of an anxiety attack, gasping for air as his heart pounded furiously, his stomach feeling like it had dropped to its knees.

“Are you trying to tell us something, boy?” Kevin came up to stand next to Danny, mildly concerned but unable to resist a smile of amusement.
“
Is Timmy trapped in the well?”

“I—I can’t marry her,” Matt finally choked out. “I can’t marry Amanda.”

His brothers only stared at him with open mouths and blank expressions before they slowly turned to look at each other.

“He can’t marry Amanda,” Kevin repeated.

“I got that, thanks.” Danny rolled his eyes a little before turning back to Matt, employing the same careful and soothing tones he might use to reason with a hostage taker or talk a jumper down off a roof. “Matty, if you’re just having a momentary bout of cold feet here, nervous about the ceremony or vows or whatever, let’s just take a moment to think about this and—”

“I have thought about it.” He regained some control. “It’s all I’ve thought about for weeks. I kept hoping it would change, that I’d snap out of it or get over it. But it hasn’t. It hasn’t changed. I can’t marry her. And I have to tell her that.” Then he frowned. “Do I have to tell her that? Or, as best man, could you maybe…”

Danny only glowered at him.

“No, I know I have to tell her.” Matt ran his hand over his hair with a final sigh of resignation. “I have to do it.”

Kevin stepped forward to tap a finger against his wristwatch.

“I hate to have to be the one to bring this up, but the telling her thing? That should probably happen soon, seeing as you’re scheduled to go out there and exchange vows in front of approximately a hundred and seventy-five people in, oh, about ten minutes.”

“What the hell am I gonna do?” Matt groaned miserably, dropping his face into his hands. “She’ll hate me. This is going to kill her. I’m such a friggin’ idiot. How could I let this happen? Of all the messes I’ve got myself into in my life and, let’s face it, there have been a lot, this tops the list. I have to be the biggest jerk on the planet, a real piece of sh—” He threw them both a sharp glance. “Feel free to jump in at any time with some words of encouragement here, by the way.”

“You still have your health?” Kevin offered quietly.

“Thanks, Kevin. Thanks a lot.”

“Look, Matt,” Danny said. “There’s really nothing either of us can say or do to help you. I hate to tell you this, but you’re on your own.”

“You think I’m making a mistake?” Matt watched him with darkening eyes.

His older brother shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. If it’s what you really believe, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. You have to listen to what your heart is telling you.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Kevin asked, narrowing his eyes. “What is your heart telling you?”

Matt’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “That she’s not the one.”

TWENTY-FOUR

He lingered outside the front of the church, imagining Amanda was probably standing right inside the threshold with her bridesmaids, ready and waiting to walk down that aisle—the one that was supposed to have him ready and waiting at the other end.