Had To Be You (39 page)

She didn’t want to make it seem like she was trying too hard—even if that’s exactly what she was doing.

He came back with huge sea scallops that he seared on the grill and served over pasta. He even grilled her fresh summer peaches for dessert.

She eased past him as held the door, carrying in their plates from dinner on the deck.

“I have to say, that was an impressive meal.”

He shut the door behind them, the ocean winds picking up off the water to buffet against the glass, then followed her to the sink.

“Yeah, I don’t like to put Danny to shame in his own house, so I usually have to hold back a little on the magnificence that is my awe-inspiring culinary talent.”

Tossing him a small grin over her shoulder, she bent to place items into the waiting dishwasher.

“You clearly put him to shame in the modesty department as well.”

She straightened to stand, bringing them closer, face-to-face. His eyes drifted over her a moment, both still smiling, and Rory felt a small shiver run through her.

“I think I’m going to grab a sweater,” she said softly, nervous that he noticed.

“Right.” Matt quickly nodded.

He was on the big couch by the wide bay window when she returned, one arm slung over the back. She carefully eased down to sit on the cushion next to him; a near perfect fit in that spot that once belonged to her.

He aimed the remote at the television. “You know, I really think I missed out by not capitalizing on the reality TV trend when I had the chance.”

“How so?”

“Are you kidding?” He lifted his arm in the air. “I would have been perfect for one of these shows. A natural. A casting director’s dream come true.”

“Well,
someone
is obviously dreaming.”

“Come on,” he protested with that familiar lilt of humor. “You can’t tell me that you don’t think my natural gift of comedy, combined with my roguish charm and engaging personality, wouldn’t transfer well over to TV.”

“I do recall it always used to get you transferred to the principal’s office.” She narrowed her gaze thoughtfully, trying not to smile. “And people would often transfer your telephone calls, or—”

“See, now that’s not funny,” he cut in, shaking his head dismissively.

“No, certainly not as funny as roguish charm, I’ll give you that.”

“Face it, Rory. Maybe you’re just a little jealous here because you know I’m right.”

“Why would I ever be jealous of your ability to contribute to the dumbing-down of all nationally televised programming?” she laughed.

“Hey, there are some very useful and educational tidbits you can pick up from watching these shows.” His voice lifted defensively, only the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Well, for instance,” he began slowly, “we now know it’s better to pour the champagne after you’ve gotten into the hot tub, rather than trying to balance a full glass in your hand as you climb in. That way you can avoid some very awkward maneuvering, and prevent the potential for spillage.”

“Well, okay. Right there they’ve obviously just provided an invaluable public service.”

“And just think about all the survival skills people have acquired watching those contestants try to forge a living out of only what nature provides.” He looked at her pointedly. “You can’t get that kind of stuff from your precious books, missy.”

“Actually, yes, you can,” she replied drolly. “And most of it is simple common sense anyway.” She let out a soft sigh. “We all have our survival skills.”

He glanced over to hold her gaze a moment.

“I suppose we do,” he agreed, but the humor wasn’t really there anymore.

Rory bowed her head, tracing her finger over the fabric of the couch, her stomach sinking to remember, once again, the ways she’d hurt him in the past. She wondered how much that was going to work against her in trying to determine if they even had the possibility of a future.

Lifting her eyes back to his face, she spoke hesitantly.

“I know I used to. I used to think I had to protect my heart, but all I really ended up doing was pushing away the things—the people—I wanted to hold close. I know it doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make up for the times I might have hurt you, but I don’t know if you understand that I hurt myself, too.”

In all the time she wasn’t with him, he was still, always, somewhere in the back of her mind, hidden safely in the recesses of her memory. But that wasn’t all. Matt existed in her heart as well, silently and secretly dwelling in those spaces in between each beat, and it was only when Rory was finally honest with herself that she could acknowledge he had been there all along.

She felt him there even now, the small pangs filling the emptiness, but resonating with a sort of exquisite ache. She didn’t know if she would ever understand why it hurt so much to love him.

“I would never hurt you, Rory. I could have promised you that, even if I couldn’t predict the future.”

“But that’s the thing. I didn’t have much trust left in me.”

“I feel like I’ve been telling you this for half our lives, but I’m not like your dad. I never was.”

She gazed at him a moment, the familiar lines of his face blurred in the faint flickering light of the television screen, and within the hidden well of tears in her eyes.

“I know that. I always knew that, Matt. I just wish I could have let myself believe it more.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in a small frown, but he said nothing.

“It was more than that, too, I think.” She hesitated, attempting to put it into words—that she might make him finally understand her fear that handing over her heart came with no guarantees she could hold onto his. She always felt like there had to be a reason her father left, and why she was never enough to make him stay. “I guess, sometimes, I felt like you had this best version of me in your mind. And what if, in the day-to-day reality, I didn’t measure up?”

“You make it sound like we never had that,” he said. “Yet we were together nearly every day. You were my girlfriend for two years, Rory.”

“But we were so young.”

“That doesn’t mean what we felt wasn’t real. For me? It was everything that came after that didn’t quite measure up.”

Rory didn’t want to think about him wasting his time with hurt and heartache, as much as she didn’t want to imagine him spending time with anyone else. “Matt, did you ever stop to think…” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “What if
I’m
the one who’s like my dad? Because that scares me, too.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Shifting slightly on the couch, he cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I believe that. All I know is…I never felt that way about anyone else, Rory. The way I felt about you.”

Tentatively, she lifted her head, almost afraid to ask. “The way you
felt
?”

Their gazes caught and held, and then his warm blue eyes drifted down to linger on her lips in that way he use to do right before he kissed her.

She trembled in anticipation, the ache of regret weighted by a yearning unfulfilled. Her heart jumped to her throat, stealing breath, when he leaned in a fraction of an inch more. So close.

Suddenly, again, and much too abruptly, he pulled back to shift away. It felt like a door slamming shut in her face.

“I think…” Letting out a soft release of breath, he reached up to rake his hand through his hair. “Maybe I should go.”

Rory wasn’t as successful in keeping the desperate edge out of her voice this time. “Do you really have to?”

“Yeah.” He stood from the couch. “I do. I’ll call you tomorrow, though.”

He hesitated somewhat awkwardly, and then bent down to drop a swift, soft kiss on her head. Something he’d done a hundred times before in friendship—and nothing more.

Frowning, all she could do was watch him walk away.

THIRTY-ONE

Music, voices and laughter from the beach party drifted up over the dunes, rolled over by the soft rush of the surf.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” Matt replied, frowning as he shook his head in an exaggerated show of denial. But then his mouth was on her neck again, his hands caressing up and down her smooth, tanned arms.

“Because it kind of feels like you are…” she said with a sigh.

“This?” His hand curved down over her hip before his fingertips grazed her thigh in a soft caress, lingering near the cuff of her shorts. “Nah…this is just me trying to shut you up.”

“Are insults part of your technique?”

“Don’t know.” He tilted his head to study her, a hot spark of hunger simmering in the warm, blue depths of his eyes “Why? Is it working for you? Because I’d be happy to continue.”

“I could do without, thanks.”

Smiling, he bowed his head her lips again. The kiss lengthened and deepened in slow increments as he rediscovered every part of her, his fingers threading through strands of silken hair, thumbs grazing her soft cheeks in a gentle caress, tongues tangling in a delicious slow slide of feeling and sensation.

After what seemed like an eternity of emotion, they broke apart, breathless, her forehead resting against his chest, eyes closed as they took a moment to gain some composure.

Matt’s legs felt a little unsteady as he tenderly smoothed her hair behind her ears, stroking her neck, caressing her bare shoulders, unable to stop touching any part of her.

“You and I are not supposed to be together anymore, remember?” In the fading sunset, Rory lifted her head to look at him with those big, heartbreaking eyes. “Everyone is going to wonder where we went.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

“We’re going to miss the fireworks.”

“No, we won’t. Trust me.”

He took her hand to lead her over to his Jeep before opening the passenger side door and helping her up into the seat. Jogging around to the driver’s side, he hopped in behind the wheel, but paused off her look.

“What?”

The corner of her soft smile curved. “I’m just trying to figure out how we got back here again.”

His smile softened as well. Leaning over to meet her halfway in a kiss, he murmured his reply against her lips.

“You make it sound like we actually left.”

***

This was bad. Actually, to be more accurate, it was more like something good that was simply bad for him. The problem was that Matt had been getting far too sure of himself, assuming he had the situation under control.

At first, he’d tried to maintain distance, his best line of defense. Yet slowly, surely, he eased in a little more, telling himself he could handle it—being around her. It was like bluffing in poker. Except instead of lulling his opponent into a false sense of security, he apparently did it to himself.

In his less than stellar dating history, outside of Rory, it seemed most relationships played out with almost scary predictability. As soon as the initial romantic phase, when everything was new and exciting and sexy, was over, the thrill wore off pretty quickly. Of course, there was a weighty sense of guilt attached to the consideration he could actually be that emotionally shallow—which, in turn, spurred him on to make an ever greater effort. The end result was predictably disastrous, where he reached the point he felt so trapped and suffocated that, either consciously or subconsciously, he did something to make the whole thing self-implode. Typically, they would end it (about three weeks after he already knew it was over).

Rory was different, however. It was always different with her. That feeling he had in the beginning stages of other relationships never seemed to fade. If anything, the excitement and thrill only got stronger in the time they spent together.

Matt hadn’t realized he was still holding onto that tiny bit of possibility where she was concerned. He honestly believed he’d let her go, but now he was forced to see he still had one small piece left in his grasp. It was like finding a tiny lost fragment of a shattered heart, swept under the rug, after you thought you picked up all the broken pieces. The resiliency of hope surprised him.

Unintentionally, he had been dishonest with his former fiancée, simply because he didn’t realize he was lying to himself. So, the thought of acting upon any feelings right now seemed like it was too soon after their very public and painful break-up. He should at least care about Amanda and respect her enough to give it some time. Hadn’t he humiliated her enough?

Even if he wasn’t still feeling guilty, Rory was going back to New York eventually. He’d already done this, thinking he could be involved with her again on a romantic level and be okay with limits or expiration dates. It didn’t make it any less devastating or the pain any less acute when the time actually came.

While things may have not worked out with Amanda, the reasons he chose to be with her in the first place were valid ones. He needed to get on with his life, and he wanted all those things in the future—marriage, a family, and someone to share a normal, everyday existence.

In considering a professional career, Matt always had a dream to work for himself, and he overcame every obstacle and met every challenge to make that happen. In his personal life, he just wanted to be happy. Why was
that
proving to be so much more daunting?

Even if there was no denying that Rory made him happy, he’d been there with her before, thinking she was totally on board with what he wanted, just as eager for a chance for a future together. How was he supposed to make a leap of faith again when still nursing the bone-crushing injuries from the last time he jumped? Not to mention the time before that?

The ride in his life known as Rory Finn should have some sort of height requirement that he couldn’t meet for his own safety and protection. Or rather, in his case, a depth requirement, since it seemed no matter how low he hit, Matt still kept coming back for more.