Had To Be You (35 page)

“Thank you.”

Jill waited until he left the room to give Rory a look.

“How old was he? Like twelve?”

“I know, right?”

“You should have seen the one who was in here early this morning doing rounds. He was smokin’ hot like lava. I was actually a little mortified to have him check my lady bits. It’s not like I’ve had time for housekeeping, you know? Who knows what kind of disarray it’s in down there right now?”

Rory arched an eyebrow. “Well, don’t think I’m going on any kind of reconnaissance mission for you.”

“Oh, you know who he actually looked like?” Jill’s eyes lit up. “That guy you dated for a short while. The Italian grad student who did some kind of male model work on the side. Remember him? Nick Arrigucci! The one Matt found so insufferable. What did he call him again?” She tapped a finger to her chin, her laughter percolating. “Oh yeah—
Arriva-douchey
.”

Rory regarded her with a slight frown. “You have an exceedingly annoying capacity for recall, you know that?”

It wasn’t surprising, however, that this was someone she’d already forgotten. Sometimes, being with people that she knew weren’t permanent fixtures, the eventuality made it easier somehow. It may sting a bit at first, but the investment made is almost negligible. It’s no real loss.

Perhaps that’s what scared Rory most about Matt. What he offered and what he represented to her was always honest and solid and lasting. It was a real love, forever and always, the way it was supposed to be and not some safe, pale imitation. That kind of relationship, however, required a full investment and she was always scared to lose too much. She was scared to lose him, and what they always were to each other, to that great, big unknown of what they could be.

The saddest part was that somewhere in there, in all that mess she’d created, Rory had somehow convinced herself she was being careful and wise with her feelings, when it was so obvious now that she was only being incredibly stupid with her heart.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to bring up his name to upset you.”

“It’s okay, it’s not you.” She sighed heavily to explain, “I just hate how he does this. It’s so frustrating. He’s always the first person there when you need a friend, yet when he’s the one who could probably use some support, he pulls away completely. Kevin was calling him earlier from the beach house, and couldn’t even get him to pick up his phone.”

“I can understand why he might need some time to himself right now. If he’s not even returning his brother’s calls? I wouldn’t take it too personally.”

“Not take it too personally?” Rory arched an eyebrow. “I don’t recall hearing your name brought up in the very public and humiliating argument that destroyed his wedding.”

“Honestly? It sounded to me like that relationship was going to end whether you were ever mentioned or not.” Her tone shifted, gently teasing. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Rory.”

She responded with the requisite wry smile.

“But if anyone were to go try to talk to him, to check in and see how he was doing?” Jill mused thoughtfully, adjusting her infant’s position. “I have a funny, sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t mind it being you.”

“I tried to talk to him. I went after him. He just waved me off.” She folded her arms across her chest dejectedly. “He made it very clear he’d rather I stayed away.”

“Last night, maybe—but we can’t even pretend to know what he must have been going through, right after everything just happened. Once he has a little distance and perspective on the whole thing? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting to the place where he could really use a friend.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

Jill smiled up at her, all positivity and calm reassurance. “I think something will come to you.”

“Okay, how did you do that?”

Jill’s eyes darted around uncertainly. “Do what?”

“Turn into a mom, overnight.”

Once she emerged from the hospital, Rory wandered over to the sidewalk curb and paused there to pull out her cell phone. She scanned to dial the main number of her office, taking advantage of the fact it was a late Sunday afternoon and there would be no one there.

Gazing down at the clouds gliding across the mirror reflection of rain puddles, she left yet another voicemail message to explain that circumstances at home would require her presence for a bit longer, extending her temporary leave. She followed up with another email to her boss.

At the moment, Rory wasn’t even sure if she was wanted here, let alone needed.

Even if barely hanging on by a thread, she still wasn’t quite ready to let go.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Matt stared absently at the sheets of rain buffeting off the windows of his apartment until it eventually dissipated into a light drizzle. Draped over the couch, remote control in hand, he tried to ignore the slight nauseous feeling that settled over him, the vague but constant sense of anxiety.

It had been like this for days, coming in waves when he least expected it, the knot in his stomach twisting tighter every time he remembered Amanda’s face, her words, and what he did to her. Remembering why it was he was lying here in his boxer shorts on a Monday afternoon instead of being at work, or at the marina, or perhaps enjoying a romantic honeymoon in a tropical island paradise.

Matt realized there had been times when he perhaps blurred the lines of socially acceptable behavior before, but who does something like this in real life? Who decides to tell his fiancée he doesn’t want to marry her five minutes before they’re about to exchange vows in front of friends and family?

He reached up to rub up his bleary eyes with the palm of one hand, flipping through the television stations, every talk show topic or soap opera scene he landed on suddenly hitting a little too close to home in one way or another. Eventually, he ended up on PBS.

Did it ever occur to anyone else that Elmo was sorely lacking a range of variety in his musical compositions?

He aimed the remote again to escape this crudely-drawn crayon world in which he found himself, while morosely eyeing the cardboard boxes stacked up by the door as he did so. The ones that contained all of Amanda’s belongings that she’d never even gotten a chance to unpack.

And today’s episode of Matt is brought to you by the letters D, I, C, and K.

He tried to remember what had been there before the boxes, to give more weight, more importance, more regret to his feelings of guilt, and remember her as he once (obviously) loved her. But he couldn’t do it. Once again, he could only think of one thing.

Closing his eyes with a soft, weary groan, his memory started to stray but he refused to allow it to go there. Not now. He ought to have at least some respect for the dead, even if the deceased was a relationship.

Amanda thought they were on the same page, yet it turned out he hadn’t even been in the same
book
as her. Matt couldn’t figure out how that could have happened. How wrong he had been, and how much she had to suffer for his mistake.

She went away on their honeymoon trip with her cousin. She called him that morning, when they should have been waking up together to start the proverbial rest of their lives, to tell him. Matt had already paid in full for the all-inclusive resort package on his credit cards—where it would, of course, remain. Although he couldn’t help but wonder, just a bit, how much of an additional room service tab his guilt might have to swallow by the end of the week.

Not that he thought Amanda was being malicious or wrong to take advantage of the trip. His stomach sank to even lower depths as he remembered her original excitement. Somehow that seemed like another lifetime ago. Or, to be more accurate, someone else’s life.

She wanted the boxes back to her house before she returned. Danny had offered to take them over for him, an offer which Matt was seriously considering only because he felt they would prefer it that way. They probably didn’t want to see him at their door. Unless they had a fully loaded semi-automatic rifle waiting on the other side, that is.

Amanda had been very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, even business-like, but her voice had sounded small and sad and broken. Matt had done that to her. He’d made her sound like that, and made her feel like she needed to get away. That was how he repaid her for simply loving him and wanting to be with him.

Her final words were that she would be spending the rest of the summer back in Long Island, and following up on a lead for a teaching position there to start in the fall. There was the very real possibility he would never see her again, this person with whom he’d almost shared his future, and Matt had to admit he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

He pushed himself up off the couch, figuring he might as well take a walk down to the bar and check in on things. It would be nice to feel like he had a little more purpose in life than simply ruining other lives around him.

A few pairs of eyes landed on him, some of his staff even abruptly halting all activity, when he walked through the front doors. He ignored them all and headed straight to the bar. He found a barstool in a nice dark corner, far away from the festive crowd, especially avoiding any happy couples.

Matt wondered why it seemed so easy for other people, what it was about successful, lasting relationships that seemed to constantly elude him. He’d come to the conclusion a while back that his problem was that he fell in love with the wrong person, and he thought the answer was as simple as getting over her and moving on with his life. Just look how well that worked out for him. So what was left to do now?

“What can I get you, boss?” Jerry was standing in front of him, leaning his hands on the bar top with an expectant grin.

Matt narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and rubbed at his chin, gazing past at the rows and rows of bottles. “How about drunk?”

***

Pulling a shirt over his head, Matt frowned and narrowed his sleepy gaze in the dim light as he emerged from the berth. The small cabin was empty of anything but dark shapes and ghostly shadows. Following a moonlight trail, he climbed the narrow companionway steps in boxers and bare feet.

A wash of starlight splashed across the midnight sky, reflected in the silver-tipped waves. He could barely make out the shape of her on the bow, huddled there in one of his hooded sweatshirts that she pulled down to cover her bare knees.

He spoke softly as he approached, suddenly feeling like he was intruding.

“Rory?”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Just thinking, I guess. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” he corrected her with a quiet yawn, rubbing a hand over his mussed hair. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

As his weary vision gradually adjusted to the darkness outside, he noticed her hand briefly flutter up to swipe at her eye. It made something inside his stomach twist into a small knot.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Showing up here, dumping all that stuff about my dad on you…I shouldn’t have.”

He had to swallow as his mouth went dry. “I was glad you did.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment as she gazed out over the water.

“We need to stop doing this, Matt.”

“Doing what?”

“Going back.”

He lowered his head, trying to ignore the familiar tightening in his chest.

“Especially since we’ve done nothing but fight in the last couple of months,” she continued. “It seems like that’s all we ever do now when we see each other.”

He reached for a weak attempt at humor. “Well, that’s not all we did tonight.”

“You know what I mean. I’m just really getting tired of this—the back and forth, the distance, the separation, the arguments—all of it. I know you must be, too.”

She dragged a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face, and it fell down her back in long layers. His gaze followed the movement of the moonlight reflected off the silky locks, spilling past the small curves of her shoulders.

He hated how much he wanted to touch her in this moment.

“So, I suppose it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t say that. I just—”

“You just what, Rory?”

She hesitated, and something trembled through her small voice. “This isn’t working.”

He ducked his head quickly, blinking away the harsh, bitter sting. “You want out?” he asked, hardening himself. “Fine. I’m not stopping you.”

“Don’t be like that.” The soft plea in her voice was undercut by a sharp, angry edge.

“Be like what?” he shot back. “Honest?”

“No, you’re not!” she cried out. “You don’t really want to hear it. You just want everything to stay the same as it always was, and it can’t, Matt! I can’t!”

The words hurt worse than any punch she ever threw.

He tried to ignore the pathetic desperation gnawing at the ragged, raw edges of pain and anger.

“Then don’t,” he said, much more quietly.

She stopped to stare. Her eyes were as big and beautiful as ever, shimmering like wet starlight as all those fiery sparks gradually faded to tiny embers.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying maybe we should take a break, break up, whatever.” Matt glanced down, sucking in a soft breath, drawing the strength to bring his gaze back to hers. “Isn’t that what you want?”

The ocean air was suddenly thick with silence. It stretched out between them, stealing away all the anger and bitterness, leaving behind only the deep, gut-wrenching ache of emptiness that came from letting go.