45

“I’ve never ever been happier. I knew you would find me.” Holly draped Matt’s jacket across her shoulders, stared at him, drinking him in. It had been two years and four months, but she could never forget the shadow of his cheekbones, the bulk of his shoulders, the lift of muscle as his arm encircled her waist. He’d brought her here to the Spinnaker Café, pulled out the wrought-iron chair for her. Finally the waitress left them alone.

And here, looking out over the harbor, on the second-story redwood deck, Matt was sitting right across from her! Just like that day in B-school by the river, the two of them, connected. She knew this would happen. She’d willed it to happen. It was supposed to happen. It was perfect.

She took a sip of her coffee, creamy and steamy in a thick white mug. He’d ordered it special for her, with Irish whiskey and whipped cream. Her white plastic straw was coated with sweetened liquor and sugar. She licked it like a satisfied cat, tasting the sweetness and feeling the warmth course through her.

He was talking to her, so charming and so Matt, but she barely heard his words. She watched his mouth, the way his jaw worked, the way the last of the sun twinkled on his curly ginger brown hair, the way he watched her. Wanting her. She knew he was, she knew it, even with his eyes hidden behind those sunglasses. He couldn’t hide from her. He didn’t want to. Didn’t today prove that?

He found me.

She stroked the lapel of his jacket as if it were his skin, feeling the weave of the wool, inhaling the scent.

And when she’d finally get to tell him her plans—when she told him! She was sure he would never leave her again.

*   *   *

Matt watched her across the table, off in her own wacko Holly-world. She seemed to simply accept his being here, instantly buying his half-assed story, hardly questioning where he’d come from or how he’d found her in the post office parking lot or why he was in Boston. The woman was a total nutcase.

He smiled at her, ignoring his clenched stomach, trying to compose his face into whatever she wanted to see. Trying to say what would sell her whatever she was willing to buy. He watched her lick that little straw from her Irish coffee—he’d ordered a double—wondering if she thought using her tongue like that was sexy, making him want her or something.

God forbid. He took a sip of his Harpoon. All he wanted was to know what the hell was going on.

“So enough about me,” Matt said. It was freezing here on the damn deck, but he didn’t want people to see them together. He would pay in cash. He would keep his sunglasses on. Maybe her showing up around Lassiter meant nothing. Maybe he’d overreacted. Maybe he could go back to normal.

“Tell me more about you. Why you came to Boston.”

“I know you, Matt,” she said. “I know what you need. I’ve always known.”

Play it cool. “That’s so interesting, Hollister,” he said. “Ah, what is it that you know?”

Good one, idiot. Subtle. But she didn’t seem to notice his stilted, awkward question. She was yanking his jacket around her shoulders, like—petting it. Smelling it. Disgusting.

“Even when you went away, I knew why,” she said. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in, closer to him. “It wasn’t about me. It was you.”

Hell it was. It was about you, sister. “Me?” he asked.

“Can I get you anything else?” A scrawny little waitress, black T-shirt and black apron, arrived at their table with a black leather bill flap.

Matt took a twenty from his wallet, tucked it in the flap without saying a word. Handed it back to her with a smile, like, we’re fine.

“Thanks,” the waitress said. “Have a nice evening.”

“Oh, look,” Holly said. “It’s so beautiful!” She clapped her hands like a kid at the circus, then pointed to the harbor. A cruise ship, draped from bow to stern with garlands of glittering white lights, sailed silently past them, so close that Matt could see passengers lining the decks, waving. As the sun dimmed, each waterfront building seemed to disappear, showing only as an outline of twinkling lights, each reflected on the water below.

Holly leaped up, ran to the edge of the deck, leaned over the wooden railing. She turned to him, waving him to come. “Come see it with me,” she said. “It’s like the buildings are wearing beautiful jewelry, necklaces of diamonds and pearls.”

It’s more like you’re a total wack job. The lights and the water and the cruise ship were actually kind of cool looking, but that’s not what he cared about now. Hell with Boston. He wanted this over. He wanted his life back.

“I have an idea,” he said. He put his arm around her waist. Felt her crowd into him. “I know I need to get you back to your car, but should we walk down there for a minute? Get closer to the lights?”

*   *   *

“Oh, I’d love to,” Holly said. She looked at him. My Matt. Then she had an idea. Would she dare put on his jacket? She would. Giggling, she jammed her arms into the sleeves, as if the jacket were hers.

“How do I look?” she asked. She posed like a fashion model, then twirled in front of him. She still wore her extra-tight running pants, and—bad Holly, she gave her body a little extra shimmy as she turned to face him, posing. Her face felt flushed from the cold and the warmth of her drink and the rush of being with Matt again.

“You look great,” he said.

He was so cute, acting awkward and tongue-tied. Maybe because she was so close.

She risked it, then, putting her arm—wearing his jacket!—through the crook of his elbow. “You know best,” she whispered into his ear.

A long wooden ramp, like a sidewalk, stretched out in front of them. It led to a little park, and she could see the lights of a carousel twinkling in the distance.

“Oh, Matt, a merry-go-round! Shall we go see it?”

“Lead the way,” he said.

Was he pulling her even closer? He was, he really was. She could smell the beer on him, just like he used to smell, and wondered if she smelled like sweetness and sugar and whiskey, and whether he liked that.

“You haven’t told me why you’re in Boston,” Matt said, interrupting her thoughts.

She looked up into his eyes—those eyes, I remember them so perfectly—then down at her feet, biting her lip, trying to figure this out. They were close to the merry-go-round now, and the lights were on, all sparkly on the colorful horses and bejeweled elephants and curlicued carriages. Holly’s thoughts were almost like a merry-go-round, she realized, spinning too fast for her to catch.

She would tell him when they got to the carousel, she decided. Maybe they could sit on a bench by the water, the two of them, and she would tell him the whole thing.

Yes. She would.