Had To Be You (4 page)

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” he shot back, with a little more of an edge to his voice than he intended.

Amanda had come into Matt’s life at a time when he thought he might have to give up on the idea he was going to find someone. Or rather, someone
else
. He had fallen into the traps inherent in the bar business, where your work and social life start to merge, intertwine, existing on a diet of too many late hours and all too readily available alcohol to the point where the nights, and the women, started to blur together.

Matt had always been drawn to the idea of marriage, spending his life with one person, devoted to her, in an equal partnership. And Amanda was the kind of girl you married. It was as simple as that. In a lot of ways, she was actually saving him from a bleak future. He’d tried for so long to find a way to fill that empty hole in his chest, and these days it was like he almost didn’t feel it at all.

“Forget it. It’s none of my business. You know I’m happy for you, right?” Casey’s apologetic question pulled him from his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to let the fact I’ve gone cynical ruin your good mood.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head dismissively. “And, trust me, nothing,”—he playfully patted her on the head as he moved past with a grin—“absolutely nothing could ruin my good mood right now.”

***

Rory eased the rental car away from the brick curb in front of her building, keeping one hand on the wheel and one eye on the busy street. With her opposite hand, she smoothed out the paper creases in the directions Jonathan had given her.

He’d left the day before to head up to Hartford, where his new play would finally see the light of day on a small Connecticut stage. She opted not to accompany him, using the excuse of work commitments. As it was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, the truth was her office was practically deserted. Still, she went in bright and early to put some hours in, mostly so she would feel less guilty, and not because she was trying to delay her departure in any way.

Awkwardly fumbling to locate the air conditioning controls in the unfamiliar vehicle, she finally gave up and lowered all the windows instead. The temperatures were starting to soar. She slowed to a stop at a traffic light, slipping on her sunglasses to cut the glare from the blazing sun.

Gazing out through her shadowed view, she watched the congested throngs of pedestrians pass by on the crosswalk. The tourists typically looked sweaty and lost; the young and hip crowd dictated the latest summer street fashions, while the business people carried suit jackets draped over their arms, trudging wearily across the hot asphalt.

When she’d first arrived after college, Rory wasn’t entirely prepared for life here, perhaps because it had been such a spontaneous decision. While she loved the city and grew into her surroundings fairly quickly, after barely two years it felt a little disingenuous to refer to herself as a legitimate New Yorker. Not when she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that a larger part of her identity would forever remain rooted somewhere else.

This place still didn’t quite feel like home.

She merged onto the expressway, intending to follow the interstate northbound. After traveling a couple of hours, stopping once for an iced coffee refill, she spotted the green highway marker in the distance. According to Jonathan’s directions, the exit she should take was coming up in about half a mile. Yet, as she approached, her focus was drawn away, her eyes locking onto something else instead.

Rory was never really one of those people who searched for signs to lead the way, but in that moment she was struck by the startling and unexpected revelation that this one might just be hers.

It was a
sign
—a definite, indisputable, and irrefutable sign.

And the sign was telling her that Boston was straight ahead, a mere 120 miles away.

Of course, no one had to tell Rory what the mileage would then be between Boston and points north, including one picturesque little seaside hamlet in particular. She didn’t need a sign to know that.

So, on she drove, right past that exit.

***

The bus finally rolled to a stop, tires crunching over gravel at the end of the drive before the door creaked to fold open. Rory already had her duffle bag slung over her shoulder, perched eagerly on the edge of her seat. She was up and out with barely a thank you and goodbye.

Camp certainly hadn’t been her idea, especially not the exclusive, elite one her father insisted she attend just because it was the place all his big shot business colleagues sent their kids. Per usual, however, he didn’t exactly take her wishes into consideration when making the decision. Rory knew he just liked the idea of his daughter being there. Much like the idea of a daughter in general, really—great in theory, but not so much in practice.

She took the front porch steps in two short leaps, bursting into the house to head straight for her room. She dumped the bag on her bed and quickly shed her green polo and cuffed khaki shorts, replacing them with a pair of denim cutoffs and pulling a plain white tank over her head. Her long skinny legs were dark with a tan and her light brown hair brightened to a sun-streaked blonde.

On the kitchen table was a plate with a wrapped sandwich, along with a note that her mother would be home by five o’clock. Rory grabbed a ripe peach from the fruit bowl on the counter instead before she flew out the back, the screen door slamming shut behind her.

After three full weeks of campfires, bug bites, swimming, sunbathing, sailing, archery, hiking, tennis, her real summer was finally about to begin.

She ran all the way to the end of the street, skirting the stone seawall until she reached the rickety steps leading to the weathered wood dock. She smiled when she spotted the small Boston Whaler tied up to a slip, bobbing in the water.

They were all there, doing flips into the cool blue waves.

“Rory!”

She grinned, lifting her hand to wave. “Hey, Kev!”

Matt emerged from the water, smiling as he climbed up the ladder to the dock and hiked up his board shorts. He looked taller somehow, even dripping wet, his short dark hair sticking up in spikes as he swiped a hand down his face. His eyes were as blue as the ocean against his smooth, bronzed skin.

“How was it?” he asked.

She lifted a shoulder to let it drop. “Okay.”

“I’ve been taking care of your boat.”

“I see that.”

“Matt! Let’s go!”

Murph appeared from around a cluster of tall pilings in his dad’s Aquasport, calling out to him with a slight scowl. From the sound of his impatience, Rory assumed Matt must have been swimming out to meet him when she arrived.

“We’re heading over to the island,” Matt explained. “You in?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll meet you guys there,” he called back to Murph. “We’re taking Rory’s boat!”

Despite the fact he already carried a full crowd, Murph didn’t seem too pleased with the unexpected change of plans.

Matt waved his brother Kevin along with the others before grabbing his t-shirt and sneakers from the dock. He dropped them into the blue interior of the waiting skiff and then offered Rory a steadying hand as they both stepped aboard.

“Check this out,” he said. “I worked taking out the trash and stocking shelves and stuff like that for my dad, until I had enough to buy some parts.” Grinning, he took a seat at the stern and revved the little motor.

“I can’t believe it!” Rory laughed, taking a seat on the polished wood thwart. “It finally works.”

She wondered exactly how many hours he’d put in at his dad’s marine store to make this happen. Mr. O’Shea wasn’t the type to let his sons off easy.

As Matt instructed her on how to guide it out of the busy afternoon harbor traffic, warning her about the chop, talking a mile-a-minute with his typical enthusiasm, their arms gently brushed and bumped against each other. Although his body seemed so lean and hard, his warm skin, still dotted with water, was surprisingly soft.

“You got it?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Leaning back, he draped an arm over the side of the boat and smiled as he watched her.

“So, what else?”

Motoring across the bumpy currents, she shook her head in the salty spray. “Not much else to tell. It was summer camp. That about sums it up.” She narrowed her eyes when she noticed he was staring. “What?”

“You look different.”

“I do?” Rory frowned skeptically and pushed the windswept hair off her face, although she had been thinking something similar about him. “How?”

“I don’t know.” He brushed it off with a dismissive shrug of his shoulder. “Did you miss me?”

“Oh yeah.” The corner of her mouth curved up. “I cried myself to sleep every night.”

“I figured.”

They eased away from home port, heading across an open stretch of water to the offshore rocky outcropping of sandy beach and shady gnarled pines at the very tip of Lighthouse Point that they called their island.

Rory snuck another glance at him before quickly returning her attention to the water.

“I didn’t miss you either—in case you were wondering,” he said finally.

She just smiled.

THREE

For some unknown reason, Matt woke at the crack of dawn. Narrowing his eyes to peer out at the hazy gray harbor, he couldn’t be sure if the sun was even up. Amanda’s hair was splayed out across the pillow, tickling his cheek, and he proceeded to tickle her right back until he finally got her to wake as well. Silencing her sleepy, half-amused protests with a kiss, he slid inside her in one deep thrust to the sound of her breathy, trembling moan.

Since he was going to be working the bar the whole holiday weekend, he took his time, enjoying her body at an almost leisurely pace. Soon she was writhing beneath him in the tangle of cotton sheets, begging for release. He kindly obliged. Still, she left him rather abruptly for an early yoga class—though Matt tried to argue that he felt pretty confident he could successfully work on her flexibility exercises without ever having to leave the bed.

When he finally jogged down the steps from his apartment, emerging out onto the bright and breezy sidewalk, he found a chocolate chip muffin waiting on the front seat of his truck with an imprint of her lipstick kiss on the napkin. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, what he needed much more desperately was a cup of coffee. Luckily, he happened to know just the place in town that had the freshest brew at the most reasonable prices.

Leaving behind the white clapboard-shingled shops, sunny steeples and leafy streets of downtown, Matt headed out to the old beach road. The view of the sky opened up, beach plums and low shrub pines clustered about the sand dunes. A sparse line of greenery stretched to the golden marsh, and then beyond that it was just a vast horizon of blues.

Less than ten minutes later he pulled into the familiar sand-pebbled drive, hopping out of the truck to jog up the wooden plank steps to the deck. He eased opened the glass door and walked directly over to the kitchen counter, still humming along to the last song he’d heard on the radio.

He’d just topped off his mug when Danny wandered into the room, buttoning the navy blue shirt of his uniform. He hesitated only briefly to see Matt there.

“By the way, little brother, there’s coffee on,” he offered with dry sarcasm. “Please, by all means, help yourself.”

“Thanks, I will.” Matt grinned brightly, taking a swallow before he tilted his head to appraise him. “Did you just get up? It’s after ten.”

Danny shook his head. “I had to supervise an early detail this morning. They finally caved to the residents, and the town is putting up new barricades to mark off the private beach from the public parking lot before the summer season officially starts. I just came home for a quick change before I start my regular shift.”

While Matt used to dread the tourist season, his attitude had shifted over the years. Now it was how he made his money.

“By the way, I’m supposed to ask if you two are all set with your tux fittings.”

Though Matt would have loved to include more of his many buddies around town as groomsmen, Amanda was only having her cousin and two friends as bridesmaids. Therefore, she felt he should limit it to just his brothers Kevin and Danny, plus adding her younger brother as a favor to her. He supposed it was only the right thing to do.

“Yep, we’re good,” Danny assured him, tucking his shirt in before cinching his belt. He regarded him with a sly grin. “And you’ll be happy to know we’ve started discussing the plans for your bachelor party as well.”

“Really?” Matt leaned back against the counter. “So, what’s been discussed? A wine and cheese tasting? Some refreshing blueberry summer ales at a nice local gastro pub, perhaps?”

His brother let out a soft snort of amusement. “Yeah, yeah, go on…yet you don’t seem to hesitate helping yourself to my fresh ground Kona coffee beans every morning. No, trust me, we’re throwing all taste and respectability out the window and focusing more on the kinds of base and juvenile activities you might enjoy, little brother.” He rested his hand on Matt’s shoulder with feigned sympathy. “After all, it is your funeral.”

“Heh, well,” Matt replied, chuckling uneasily as he rubbed his chin. “Why can’t we just grill some steaks, boil up some lobsters or something? Have a couple of beers—nothing too crazy.”

Danny sat down at the kitchen table with his coffee mug and a surprised frown.

“
That’s
what you want to do for your bachelor party? On your last night of freedom?”