Had To Be You (42 page)

“I was thinking a lot about that, and how maybe the pressure of the wedding plans really got to us too much.” She was now gazing up into his face. “That maybe it all happened too soon. Too fast. And how we might have had a better chance if we took it more slowly, you know, without that kind of pressure.”

“Wait.” He came out of his guilt-induced stupor for just a moment to furrow his brow in confusion. “What are you saying?”

“That maybe…” She lightly grasped the hem of his t-shirt. “We could still have a chance.”

He stared down at her, speechless, caught completely off guard and having no idea how he got here as she leaned up to bring her lips to his. Instinctively, he grasped onto her arms, holding her steady as he took a step back to gently pull away.

He shook his head with a pained sigh. “Amanda…no.”

Matt could still feel Rory on his lips, could taste her; and a trace of scent of something uniquely her still lingered all over him, so that every time he breathed in, it was just as left her, sexy and warm and sated in his bed.

From the look on Amanda’s face right in this moment, he could tell it wasn’t just his imagination.

“Is it her, then?” She folded her arms across her chest, and her accusing glare shifted between him and his apartment door.

Matt couldn’t even answer, wanting to be truthful but momentarily buckling under the weight of his conscience.

“Are you kidding me right now, Matt? Are you actually getting back together with her? Just like that?”

“I—I don’t really have an answer to that,” he said, averting his eyes. Amanda was obviously the last person with whom he felt like discussing this, but he at least owed her a truthful response.

And the truth was that Matt didn’t know anything right now.

“Less than six months ago you did!” she reminded him, her sharp voice edged in bitter contempt. “You told me that it was over for good, that she didn’t want the same things you did, that you’d wasted too much time on something that was never going to happen. Those were your words, Matt! So, let me guess—as soon as she realized you might actually, finally, be moving on, she just magically changed her mind about everything, right?”

Matt frowned uncertainly, bowing his head. He felt that all he could really do for her now was to let her to vent, and try not to place too much weight on the things she was actually saying. The things he didn’t really want to hear.

Amanda continued on, undeterred, her accusations cracking with emotion every so often.

“Are you really that blind where she is concerned that you can’t put two and two together, Matt?” She gasped almost as if she was appalled to think he could be that stupid. “You can’t see why she might suddenly change her mind and want you now, when she didn’t before? Did you ever consider she might just need a bit of ego boost, to know she can still have you just by saying the word? See how high you’ll still jump? See if you’ll call off
a whole wedding
for her? And it never occurred to you she might just be playing you for a fool?”

“It’s not like that.” He shook his head, feeling the need to at least defend Rory even if he couldn’t defend himself. “She’s not like that.”

“Oh, please!” Amanda scoffed. “I talked to her before the wedding, remember? Believe me, women understand each other, and she knew I was onto her game. She admitted everything and even agreed to stay away after we were married. See? It’s not about you. It was just a contest to her, and she obviously got to you behind my back and somehow won.”

Matt stared at her blankly, trying to remember what it was that Rory said to him about that conversation, but everything that happened in conjunction with the wedding now seemed like it was something that happened in someone else’s life.

“And what about when she goes back to New York? What is it that makes you think this is any different than the last time you told me about—than any time with her, ever? What makes you think you’re enough for her now, Matt, when you obviously never were before? You don’t honestly believe she’s going to stay here for you, and live your little townie life? You’re only going to end up feeling like a fool when she blows you off again—like you’re nothing, after you gave up everything. Trust me; it’s not a good feeling. I should know.”

He cast his eyes to the ground.

“Amanda, I don’t want to do this. I know I hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

“Too late.” She turned to go, glancing back in near disgust. “Well, good luck, Matt. Can’t say as though I hope it all works out for you. Then again, if I were you? I wouldn’t get my hopes up either.”

Matt lifted his dark, weary eyes to watch her walk away down the sidewalk, tilting his head just slightly to throw an uncertain glance back at his apartment door.

It was true that the painful memories of laying his heart on the line, only to have Rory throw it back in his face each time, were still fresh in his mind. When it cut that deep, who knows how long it takes to completely heal—if it ever even does. Granted, things seemed different now, since she was taking the initiative to put her feelings out there first. They had just spent the past forty-eight hours sharing intimate words, feelings and emotions just as much as they had their bodies.

Unfortunately, that didn’t do a lot to ease his concerns when—regardless of her claims—she still had an obvious and ready excuse to leave and return to her life in New York.

Rory was back in his arms, in his life, and he wasn’t even sure how she got here. How they both got to this point, when he thought they were long past it—that this point was only a faint, melancholy, bittersweet memory.

It all happened almost
too
fast, the way she lifted his hopeful heart, and completely turned his whole life around.

Leaving Matt to only wonder how long it might be before she dropped him back down.

THIRTY-TWO

With the tight strain of a headache pounding at his temple, Matt tried to keep his focus on inventory as he restocked bottles. He never even got around to getting any coffee that morning, staying on to do some work after he got to the bar.

It felt like he’d reopened more than one locked door, and all his assorted fears and doubts came spilling out. Now he had to try and clean up the mess.

He called Rory to apologize for getting stuck, of course, but he still felt guilty about it. There wasn’t much right now that he didn’t feel guilty about.

In the week before he called off the wedding, it was greatly disturbing for him to realize that every time he looked at Amanda, he would hear Rory’s words repeating in his head. Now the opposite was happening. He couldn’t get the things Amanda said out of his head, as much as he didn’t want them in there.

He supposed this is what it felt like to have someone verbalize your worst fear to you. To acknowledge what you previously refused to acknowledge, and say the words that you previously refused to speak. To tell you that it could happen.

As much as Matt preferred to keep his inner conflicts where they belonged, on the inside, as he glanced over the crowd of regulars sitting in front of Luke, he had to admit he was beginning to see the allure of the barstool confessional. To be able to just pull up a seat and cry into his beer, to reflect over loss or maybe just the things he never had to begin with.

Maybe the thing bothering him most of all was that this feeling was so oddly familiar. A general sense of depression and restlessness, like seeing the end in sight and waiting to get there—because the ride itself was out of your control.

Rory, of course, had always been his emotional roller coaster. The highs had been few and unevenly spaced, but exhilarating and thrilling when they came, and the lows made him think he was possibly going to vomit on the next sharp turn.

Matt also knew that life could be all about perspective, so maybe he should just be happy that she had been in his life for a while instead of not at all, and let it go at that. But screw trying to be noble and selfless. He tried that before and it didn’t make it hurt any less. It only meant he had to
show
it less, which actually turned out to be even more painful.

“Hey.”

He turned away from the rows of bottles to feel that quick twist inside his chest. Just the sight of her—those big beautiful eyes, silky hair, and endless legs—was enough to turn the knife.

Swallowing audibly, he was glad for the noise and distraction.

“Hi.”

He edged over towards the service end of the bar, and she moved down as well. She turned more than a few heads, but, as always, didn’t even seem to notice.

“Did you even stop to eat today?” she asked with an uncertain smile.

He shook his head. “We just got really busy here.”

“Well, how about maybe grabbing an early dinner?”

Matt averted his eyes, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Um, I never did get this problem with the beer cooler fixed. And I’ve already shelled out too much money to maintenance guys. I think I’m just going to see if I can figure it out myself.”

Her voice softened with a touch of disappointment. “We could make it late, then.”

He briefly closed his eyes, pretty much hating himself by this point. “I’ll have to see how it goes.”

“Right,” she said, lowering her head before she glanced back up to meet his eyes. “Listen, I’m going to be at my mom’s. Bill has to work late, and I’ve hardly spent any time with her. So, I guess you can find me there.”

His lips parted once before he could actually speak. “And I’ll, um…I’ll let you know. About dinner.”

“Matt—is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. Everything’s fine,” he quickly replied, an ingrained response. “I really just have to figure out this problem.”

“Okay, well, I’ll be waiting.”

The corner of her soft lips lifted briefly before she turned to go.

Matt supposed what it really came down to was that he didn’t know if he had it in him to believe in her. He didn’t even know if he had it in him to believe in
himself
anymore. Not in a million years could he ever have predicted he would actually leave someone at the altar. Yet he had.

The one thing he had been trying to prove to Rory for most of his life that he’d never do to her, he did to someone else.

He also couldn’t deny there was a small part of him that believed Amanda today. Despite everything—her scornful words, what history may tell him and what he may believe—this was one of those times in his life wherein he desperately, desperately wanted to be wrong.

Unfortunately, when Matt was hoping he was wrong?

It usually turned out to be one of the few times he was right.

***

Easing the back porch door open with her hip, Rory carried in a small armful of ripe tomatoes to deposit them on the kitchen counter.

Blowing a wisp of hair out of her eyes, she glanced at the clock above the stove. It was already well after five o’clock. Helping her mother out in the garden for a couple of hours provided a small distraction, but if she didn’t find something else to occupy her time soon, she might just go crazy waiting.

Like with anything one might truly love, a little just made her want more. Rory wanted all of him, body and heart and soul, and that was everything she was willing to give. If only he would take it.

When she wasn’t looking, the tides seemed to shift yet again. Or maybe it was just karma, catching up with her.

She wondered if she could remember her mother’s old recipe for tomato pie. It might be nice to surprise her with that favorite dish, and it would at least give her something to do—or to ruin, either way. Maybe there were things in life that Rory was just never meant to master. Take cooking, for example. Or love.

Through the open windows, she heard a car pull up outside on the gravel drive. She told herself it was just her mother returning home from her errands, afraid to hope for more.

Her heart nearly stopped to hear a knock at the door.

Feeling a swift rise of nervous anticipation, Rory headed out to the front hallway. Matt usually never knocked, but it had been a long time. It might be different now.

“Come in,” she called out softly.

She heard the creak of the hinges, and stopped short as it swung shut behind him.

“Jonathan?”

He looked so strange and awkward standing in her mother’s house, in tailored charcoal trousers, black dress shirt, and his sleek haircut.

“Rory, I wasn’t sure if you were going to be here.”

“What are
you
doing here, is the question?”

“I was coming back from Connecticut, and got this idea in my head,” he started tentatively.

She caught glimpses of the fleeting expressions on his face as he glanced around. She knew there was an awful lot of quaint, coastal New England in here for one lifelong Manhattan dweller to take in.

“How did you even find me?” she asked.

“I called your office, actually. It seems they’re concerned about you, too. Everyone wants to know how you are doing, how your mom is and when you’ll be back.” He hesitated. “How is your mother, by the way?”

Rory shifted her eyes away, feeling the appropriate shame. “She’s…better.”

“That’s good.” He glanced down at the ground. “I’ve been feeling badly about the way I ended our phone call that night, thinking about what you might be going through. And I’m not going to pretend that I understand why you seemed to have such a sudden change of heart, or why I was so wrong in thinking things were going well between us. But I will admit that maybe part of the reason I am here in person is to see if perhaps that could have been a temporary feeling, due to all you’ve been dealing with at home. That maybe you just needed a break, were going through a difficult time or it’s something we can work through—”

“No, I’m sorry,” she cut him off gently before he could finish, feeling rotten as much as she empathized with him in so many ways. “It’s not like that. I want to be honest with you, Jonathan, because I haven’t been, and you didn’t deserve that. My mother is fine. She’s been fine all along. And it wasn’t that I had a change of heart. It was more like I had a realization. I had something unfinished, in my past. That’s what brought me back here. I’m sorry.”