The Reason I Stay (23 page)

I frown and interrupt him, “But on the beach, when we were talking about Kodee, you said you didn’t know many children.”

“Two isn’t many, and I’m not close to my father, which makes it hard to be close to his kids.” I nod, and can’t help feeling a little sad for him. He seems lonelier in the world than I am. “Anyway, you already know about my lack of a proper dating history and about my partying asshole ways, which leaves only one bit of information unshared.”

I raise my brows, to which he says, “I’m a lawyer.”

And my eyes widen in mock horror—okay, the horror isn’t entirely fake since like most people, I kind of hate lawyers, something I’m not too keen on sharing with him right now. “Shut up. You wreck bars. You can’t be a lawyer.”

He laughs a real laugh. “Have you considered that maybe I became a lawyer
because
I wreck bars? So I could dig myself out of my own shit?”

“I didn’t, but that would be kind of smart.”

Matt nods. “Yeah, but that’s not why,” he says it matter-of-factly, which makes me laugh. “I’m a lawyer because that’s what Rogers men do. We’re lawyers who work at Rogers’ Law. No other option.”

I’m not sure if I find that bit of information sad because Matt’s tone is tinged with the emotion, or because it’s actually really sad. I’m thinking the latter, but just as with my opinion on his profession, I keep the thought to myself.

With an honest and interested smile, I ask, “What kind of lawyer are you?”

“Divorce and family law, mostly.”

And that does it. I groan.

He looks at me with a crooked smile, and a matching brow. “Do you have a problem with my profession?”

Although I try, I can’t keep my head from moving up and down or my mouth from opening. “I don’t mean this personally, but your job is splitting people up. That’s the least romantic job in the world. Doesn’t it make you sad?”

I don’t look at him, afraid that I’ll see offense in his face, but then I hear a belting laugh. I steal a glance at him and see that he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open from how hard he’s laughing. Considering the high speed we’re traveling at, that’s not a great thing. In addition, I don’t see anything particularly funny in the conversation we’re having, so I just stare at him, looking for some explanation.

It takes a while for the hysterics to subside, but when they do, he asks, “Were you impressed by Greta?”

I blink, confused by the change of subject. “I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation, but aside from having a really comfortable seat, it’s just a car, and not one that agrees with Jolene, by the way. So not really.”

He laughs again, and peels his eyes from the road to glance at me. The emotion filling those breathtaking deep blue eyes stuns me for a second. It’s like he’s kissing me with his gaze, and even though I love to feel his lips on mine, I love this kiss as well.

His eyes go back to the road. “Yes, being a divorce lawyer makes me sad,” he returns to the subject as suddenly as he’d left it. “It isn’t at all romantic, but I’ve never thought of myself as a romantic, so I never minded much. What really bothers me is dealing with bitter and vengeful people all day. But I’m pretty good at it, and I’ve handled a couple of adoptions, which was fun. But yeah . . . overall it sucks.”

We both stay in silence for a while. In that time, I think that although he’s never thought of himself that way, I can attest to the fact that he is, in fact, a romantic—maybe not one in the traditional sense, but one nonetheless.

And then a thought runs through my mind.

“Do you still work there?”

He nods. “Yes.”

I wait for him to connect the dots and explain about his four-month road trip and extended stay in Jolene while still working at his family’s firm, but he doesn’t. He just stares straight ahead, holds my hand, and keeps driving.

I can’t help to think that if he has a job halfway across the country, and doesn’t really want to talk about it, it may be because he’ll have to go back to it soon. That line of thought gives me an uncomfortable sinking sensation in my gut.

After a deep breath that does nothing to ease the havoc in my brain, I clear my throat. “How come you’re here, then? Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Sabbatical,” he replies simply.

I continue to look at him, waiting and hoping for more information—prerably something to ease my mind regarding the possible brevity of this relationship. Much to my dislike, that information doesn’t come.

We just stay silent for a while, the humming of cars passing by the only noise in the background. The tense, weird energy emanating from Matt only deepens the nasty feeling at the pit of my stomach that says that whatever he’s not saying may be what forces him back to Seattle, and away from me.

“Do you know what the best thing about being in a relationship is?” I ask, when the silence becomes too much.

His lips pull in a side smile as he looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “The things that start to happen on the third date?”

I laugh, and wink at him. “Well, yeah. But also, that if you ever want to talk about something, anything, you have someone who will listen. You don’t ever have to talk about anything, but you can. Okay?”

Matt exhales slowly. “I’ll keep it in mind. And so should you.” I look questioningly at him, and earn a raised brow in return. “You’re worried that my sabbatical means I’m leaving soon, aren’t you?”

Yes, and I hate that you can read me better than I can read you
. In protest, I don’t really reply. I just smile at him, but apparently that’s enough of an answer.

He tightens his fingers around mine. “I’m just too close to a case the firm is working on, and Dennis thought it would be best if I took some time away. But don’t worry. I have no plans of going back, okay?”

Thank God!

“Okay.”

“Does my girlfriend require any other information, or is she good?”

I can’t deny that although it’s super sappy, I love to hear him call me his
girlfriend
. I shrug. “Unless you have something important to add, I’m good.”

An almost imperceptible frown forms on his forehead, and then he shakes his head and smiles at me. “Awesome.”

We change subjects, and just like that, our getting to know each other conversation that started yesterday comes to an end. Knowing him still doesn’t make the reality that Mathew Ian Rogers, handsome playboy from Seattle, is now my boyfriend any less crazy to me, but it’s a start. And judging by how happy I feel, I’d say getting used to it will be as easy as eating cake.

As expected, by the time Matt and I enter the gymnasium and meet the Wolfs, Mrs. Crane’s gossip regarding us has spread. We barely have time so say hello before the hugs and questions start. It’s as endearing as it is annoying. Luckily, the mayhem is cut short by the music announcing that the ceremony is about to begin.

We all take our seats, Matt and mine’s between Eric and a very excited Kodee, who keeps looking at us with this funny smile in her lips. I spend a good portion of the graduates’ entrance wondering what that’s about, and then she calls Matt “godfather” and my face goes beet read. It’s too early for everything that’s happening, and I’m the only one who seems to realize that because even Matt, who should be as mortified as I am, laughs and imitates Marlon Brando as he tells her that if she ever needs a favor, or a horse’s head, she just needs to ask. Obviously, Kodee doesn’t understand the joke, but she laughs anyway, and I have to force my eyes away from them to prevent myself from becoming a puddle of mush.

I finally spot Tanie walking amongst the black-gowned graduates. I can’t help but think that if life had gone differently, if Leigh hadn’t died, and if I hadn’t felt the need to step up and be a substitute mom for Kodee, I would have been there graduating college today with my best friend, and that would have been a great achievement. It would have been a great life, I’m sure, and I’d be happy.

However, there would have been no waitressing job at The Jukebox, no house at the beach, no chocolate-chip pancake Fridays, no Sundays at the beach with Kodee, and no Matt. I close my eyes because just thinking about not having those things puts a knot in my throat. I love my job and my house, I love my little traditions, I love that I get to see Kodee grow up, and that I got to meet Matt. And yes, my life is simple, and by some standards unaccomplished, but I’m independent, I have love, and a kind of happiness that doesn’t require anything to sustain it. Despite all odds, I found peace and stood on my own two feet, and if that isn’t reason to be proud of oneself, if that’s not an accomplishment in and of itself, I don’t know what is.

So although I lack the degree I once envisioned myself having, I can say that I’m perfectly happy with all the choices I’ve made. I’m perfectly happy with the life I chose, the life I’m choosing, and that’s enough for me.

A
s with all graduation ceremonies, this one is long and boring as shit. My only distraction is watching Lexie. Her reactions to this borefest are bizarre and endearing. She claps with real enthusiasm, and wipes tears that fall from her eyes as if we’re in a movie theater watching her favorite film. I see that the other women are having the same reaction, which leads me to believe that I’m the most insensitive person in the world.

Or maybe it’s just that I’m a guy, and when an elbow connects to my right side, I know that’s the case. “Is it just me, or does this feel like pulling teeth to you too?”

I look at Eric’s heavy lids and slumped back, and chuckle. “Dude, you’re holding a video camera.”

His eyes go wide as he looks at his hands. “Shit.” He brings the device closer to his face, and in a slightly louder voice, says, “I meant that like I’m so happy and excited to kiss my lovely graduated girlfriend that waiting to do it actually hurts like pulling teeth. I love you, baby.”

He looks back at me, brows raised. He has “Do you think it’ll work?” plastered on his face.

I shake my head, and in a low voice, say, “Man, you’re so whipped.”

Without taking his hands from the camera, Eric extends his middle finger at me and holds it for a long-ass time. I laugh as quietly as I can, which turns out not to be all that quiet, judging by the evil-eye Lexie gives me, and the deathly grip in which she grabs my fingers.

Sorry
, I mouth, bringing her hand up to my lips for a quick kiss that dissipates the evil glare.

The moment Lexie’s eyes return to the stage and our joined hands are back over my lap, Eric’s voice sounds in my ear again. “And I’m the one who’s whipped. At least we’ve been together for seven years.” It’s my time to give him the finger, and we both chuckle.