Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (15 page)

I leaned closer to the mirror to apply mascara.

              “Fine. I don’t see them much now that I don’t live at home. I try to get by now and then for dinner to catch up. My mom hates it when I stay away too long. She still really misses your mom. It was sad for them, the move,” Mathew said.

             
“Sad for all of us,” I said miserably.

             
That day was burned deep into my memory, the day we left San Jose. I could see Pat and I crying in the back seat. Remembered the summer when I’d gone back, when Mathew had asked me to lose Ben…

“Mathew
, you know our history is crazy, right? Me loving you since day one, the on, the off, the way you’ve always been able to pull me back. Even now,” I teased. “I’ve tried to explain it to Ryan, and he just sees whack job.”

I closed my makeup bag and went to the bed and put it in my suitcase. M
athew cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows in question.

             
“Why do you need to explain us to Ryan?” he asked.

             
“I don’t,” I defended. “We talk is all. We’ve shared some of our past: old loves, people who broke our hearts.”

             
He frowned at me, but didn’t ask me to expand on it. Mathew had never been good at emotions so it was hard to tell if it was my comment that bothered him, or my friendship with Ryan. A sharp knock on the door startled me. When I opened the door, the light was blinding, and I put my hand up to shield my eyes. Karen stood in jean shorts and a purple tank top.

“I’ll be right there
,” I said to her softly.

“Meet us at the van when you’re ready,” Karen said.

I left my bag on the bed and walked Mathew to his car. I thought he might bring up the way we’d left things and try to change my mind about moving. At the very least, I expected him to try. He didn’t, not a word. His silence confirmed that my decision was the right one.

             
“Call me if you change your mind,” he said and kissed me.

             
As I watched him drive away, for a brief moment I wished I could change my mind. I wished he could have shown me something to prove me wrong, make me not afraid. Make me want to go back to him.

“Ready?”
Ryan asked, walking up behind me.

             
I took a deep breath. Despite my emotions, despite my love, I knew in my heart of hearts it was time to move on.

“Ready
,” I said.

             
“Did you and Mathew have a good time?” Ryan asked.

             
A lump formed in my throat, sadness filling every part of my body.

             
“I guess,” I answered, my words coming out choked.             

             
“You okay?” he asked, putting a hand on my back.

             
“No, but I’ll get there,” I answered him. “I’ll get my bag.”

             
When I walked back into the room, Mathew’s scent lingered in the air, the lemon, vanilla, and something just him, a smell that I loved. I looked at the bed, the jumbled covers all twisted and turned as we had left them. I sat down on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands.
Why had I called?
I realized you could feel just as lonely with someone as alone. Karen found me like that.

“You a
ll right?” she asked, sitting down on the bed next to me, putting her arm around me.

“I want to be al
l right,” I said unhappily.

My shoulders slumped forward as
I looked at her. She hugged me to her in a reassuring way.

“I want
…” I paused, fighting the emotion welling in my throat. “Fuck, I don’t know what I want. Let’s go.”

Determined,
I stood and grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

Chapter 15

On the drive to San Francisco, Ryan and Karen tried to take my mind off Mathew. They sensed that seeing him, being with him again, was tough on me, and they worked to make me laugh. Karen told me about the maid walking in on them at the motel. She’d failed to knock before opening the door and got an eye full. Karen couldn’t stop laughing when she told the story. I could tell Ryan was a little embarrassed, even though I guessed that was his funny story.

“
Mathew is off the radar; no more talk about that subject,” Karen said. “How long since you’ve seen Gayle?”

Gayle was my childhood best girlfriend from San Jose; we’d grown up on the same street.

“Gosh,” I said thinking. “I saw her a few times briefly when I was flying back to see Mathew.”

“Did she think you made the right decision about not moving in with him?”

“Gayle, you kidding me, she was never a Morgan, Mathew fan.”

I caught Ryan’s
side view behind Karen, and saw that he had a grin on his face. I’d told him about Gayle, he loved that she just told me how she saw it.

“
We’re supposed to meet her at Pier 39 at noon.”

F
or two days, Gayle and I ran Karen and Ryan around the city. San Francisco was a city to marvel at. The hills it was built on, and the fact that the sea surrounded it, made it all very magical. Ryan drove us down Lombard Street, the historical brick street that snakes steeply down a hill; his van hardly making it around some of the tight curves. We walked to Coit Tower, ate crab at the wharf from the street vendors, and had some of the famous sourdough bread. We walked Pier 39, shopped, watched the mimes, and rode the cable car. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect: a not-too-hot sun, a nice ocean breeze. With three of my closest friends, I was able to put Mathew out of my mind for bits at a time.

Gayle headed back home Sunday evening. After she left, Ryan, Karen, and I went to dinner and then stopped in at the Buena Vista for an Irish coffee. I encouraged them to wait for a window table because being able to look out into the street one could people watch, and in San Francisco that was a real attraction.

“Beautiful city
,” Ryan said. “This has been so great.”

“It really has,” Karen
sighed, leaning into Ryan. “Can we do another Irish coffee? They are so good.”

I laughed. Sitting at a high top table in the BV was
magnificent, and brought back times I’d been here with Mom and Dad. The restaurant sat on the corner, close to the cable car turnaround, and there was just so much to see.

“I hate that I have to go home tomorrow,” Karen said with a frown. “And you two
get to continue on with the fun.”

“Oh, it’s a long drive down Highway 1 and really ugly,” I joked.

“Shut up,” she laughed.

We dropped Karen at the airport early the next morning. I felt the loneliness climb up in me again as I watched them hug and kiss each other curbside. I wondered if the despair would ever go away.

“Yo
u and me, girl,” Ryan said, jumping back into the van. “What now?”

             
“Let’s go over the bridge; I’ll show you Sausalito. We can have some lunch on the water there. Then we can start making our way back down the coast. You will love Highway 1.”

“Thought you said it was ugly,” he chuckled.

“Yeah right,
I’m going to show you places that will blow your mind,” I said eagerly.

“Point me in the right direction
,” Ryan said.

I could sense his anticipation and with Karen gone something in his mood had shifted.
Maybe not having to be “on” all the time around her.

             
“Out of the airport for starters,” I laughed.

             
He pulled his cowboy hat from behind the seat and put it on. I realized he hadn’t worn it since the day he’d arrived; I liked how he looked in his hat.

             
“You don’t seem very happy,” he said, glancing over at me.

             
I looked at his face; it was sort of in shadow with the way the sun was angled and his hat.

             
“Too many goodbyes?” he asked.

              I felt the tears push at the back of my eyes and turned away from him, looking out my side window.

             
“Oh, Ryan, I shouldn’t have called him. I shouldn’t have stirred it up,” I said gloomily.

             
My heart was aching and I had no one to blame but me.
What had I expected?

             
“It’s not easy, I know,” he said as if reflecting.

             
I sensed he was talking about Carrie, the goodbyes of old.

             
“Let’s have fun. No more talking about the past. Let’s live in the now, okay?” I said, sounding like a cheerleader on crack.

             
“Okay,” he said, laughing.

             
We drove down the coast that afternoon and ended up in Carmel. We walked the beach and window-shopped in town. Ryan talked about Karen and was looking forward to seeing her again when we got back to Escondido. We sat on the beach that evening next to a cypress tree and shared a bottle of wine as the sun set using plastic cups Ryan had brought from the hotel.

“Nice glasses
,” I said, squeezing the flimsy plastic.

“Hey
, they work,” he said, pouring me wine.

The waves
crashed onto the beach, and the sun hit the edge of the ocean, the reds and golds spreading across the horizons edge. The lyrics to the Rolling Stones song “Wild Horses”, filled my head
w
ild horses couldn't drag me away, wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away, I watched you suffer a dull aching pain, now you decided to show me the same, no sweeping exits or offstage lines, could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind.
I pictured Mathew around the bonfire on the beach playing his guitar and singing. He’d played my favorite song for me often.

I was glad I’
d grabbed a sweatshirt, and I pulled it over my head. Sipping my wine I watched people walking the beach, many of them couples hand-in-hand. I wondered if they were just trying, if they said I love you, if the man had gotten down on one knee and said I’d be the happiest man alive if you’d marry me. I felt the loneliness seep back in and I hunkered down into myself.

“Spill it
,” Ryan said in an aggravated tone.

I looked over at him realizing I had drifted off in my own thoughts, sad thoughts. He
tilted his head and I could tell he was tired of my pensive sadness.

             
“I don’t want to,” I said like a defiant child.

             
“Why?” he asked crossing his arms.

             
“‘Cause it’s over. It was over before, but now it’s really over,” I said.

             
Ryan dropped his head and shook it slowly.

“If you love him
, why is it over?” he asked.

             
I watched the sun sink lower in the sky, throwing a bright line of light across the ocean at us. I didn’t answer him.

“
Come on, Morgan, tell me,” he said. “I’m a good listener.”

I looked at him
, trying to conjure up a decent answer.

“
Just because you love someone doesn’t always make it right, make it work. It was a long process of discovery to understand he was giving what he could, but it wasn’t, isn’t, enough for me. You know there were years with Max that Mathew and I didn’t even keep in touch.”

“What changed?” Ryan asked.

“Mathew’s fuck-up, his accident, made him miss me, or fear, being alone, whatever; when he said he needed me, I couldn’t not go. With Max and me down the tubes, there was no reason not to. I didn’t expect the old feelings to still be there; I didn’t expect it to start again, the relationship,” I said.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared
out at the ocean. I envisioned Mathew on the couch at the Hyatt “watching you sleep” he’d said, the night after I’d told him I couldn’t move.

“
It’s my choice it’s over. I know, I could have ‘tried’,” I said, mocking Mathew’s offer.

Ryan stayed silent, letting me work through my thoughts.

“I have to understand it, live by my decision, know it really is the right thing. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations of love, I don’t know. I want it to feel equal, like both people are on the same page. With Mathew it was never like that, I was the one who loved,” I said.

He touched his cup to mine
in acknowledgement. We finished the wine and watched the sun sink completely into the ocean and disappear. The darkness enveloped us, but the moon shone bright.

“Do y
ou want to go somewhere else?” he asked.

I looked into h
is face; his eyes were soft like he felt sorry for me, and it bothered me. I didn’t want pity.

“No, b
ack to the hotel is fine,” I said digging my toes into the sand.

We walked in si
lence. Our emotions were completely opposite: Ryan was feeling upbeat, and I was on a downer, one I didn’t want to drag him down to with me. He wrapped me tight in his arms and held me for a long time before we headed to our rooms. I was grateful for him listening and understanding my mood. I put on a T-shirt and crawled into bed. I was exhausted from the day’s emotions. Thankfully, I didn’t dream and woke up totally refreshed. I showered and dressed before I dialed Ryan’s room. I could tell he was still asleep the minute I heard his voice.

             
“Sorry, Ryan, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said as I glanced at the clock. “Oops, I didn’t realize it was so early, I’ll take a walk on the beach. I’ll call again when I get back.”

             
I was embarrassed that in my uplifted mood I hadn’t looked at the time.

“No, no.
I’m awake. Give me a couple minutes. I’ll go with you. I’ll come to your room,” he said.

             
I hung up, turned on the TV, and flipped around until I found some news. I folded my clothes from last night and put them back into my bag. I took my things out of the bathroom and put those away too, keeping busy as I waited for him. Ryan knocked on the door a few minutes later. I greeted him with a big smile.

             
“You’ll need your sweatshirt,” he said grinning.

             
“Yeah, I figured,” I said, grabbing it from the bed. “Sorry I woke you.”

             
“Don’t be.”

             
We walked down the side street toward the beach. The streets were quiet, and all the shops were still closed. Flower boxes hung in many of the older buildings windows and large trees lined the streets. I looked down at the cracks in the sidewalks that their roots had made. A haze hung over the ocean, making the skyline look as if it had been painted in strips of color.

             
“Maybe we can find a coffee shop on the way back,” I said.

             
“Yeah, and get me some pancakes,” he teased.

             
That’s what he had ordered that morning in Park City, when he took me to breakfast. We’d never talked about that. I wondered if he ever thought about it. My being with Mathew certainly hadn’t fazed him, nor my being with Max for that matter.

I took off my shoes when we
reached the sand. He left his tennis shoes on. I wanted to feel the sand between my toes. It was damp and cold on my feet, but I didn’t care. I buried my hands in my sweatshirt pockets. I played with the surf moving quickly and twirling to avoid it reaching me. Ryan watched me smiling. We walked for a long time before he said anything.

“So
, what’s on the agenda today?” Ryan asked.

             
“We’ll head down through Big Sur. I want to stop at Nepenthe and show you that. It’s this really cool restaurant bar perched on the cliffs overlooking the ocean; my mom’s always loved it. It has this kind of cool romantic history: Orson Wells and Rita Hayworth purchased it when it was just a log cabin. They had plans on improving it, but their relationship died before they ever did anything to it. Later there was a movie scene filmed there with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.”

             
“Sounds interesting,” Ryan said.

“
My parents took Pat and I to places they had a special fondness for, so I have memories from them. After that we’ll head to San Simeon and hit Hearst Castle, which is another totally cool place, I was able to book us a reservation this morning. You being in construction, you will love it, and then who knows,” I said.

“
Glad I have a guide. I like it, a girl who knows where she’s going. Well, sort of,” he laughed.