The Reason I Stay

by Patty Maximini

  I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, and raise a brow at him, reminding him that a month ago he was the undesirable out-of-towner. But he, being Matt, gives me a crooked smile and shrugs, completely dismissing my point.

  “And I was,” he continues, and I frown, lost in the subject. “At Wes’s. But those boys are sucking today, and I wanted to talk to my girlfriend. Is that so bad?”

  I finally smile at him. “No, that’s wonderful. But you’ll have to do it sitting at the bar, or wait until we’re closed.”

  Matt gives me one of his teasing smirks, and rests an arm on the hostess stand. “Fine, but if one of the vacationers decides to buy me a drink, I’m accepting it, and you won’t be able to complain about it. It’s your fault, anyways.”

  I lift a brow at him. He narrows his eyes at me. Trying hard not to laugh, I pick up a Sharpie from my apron’s pocket and hold the wrist he has propped on the stand with my other hand. Using my teeth, I uncap the pen and bring it to his arm.

  I recap the Sharpie, and look at Matt with a big-ass grin. He looks from the writing on his arm to my face a few times before bursting into a fit of laughter. He’s still laughing when I reach for his hand, and pull him in the direction of the bar.

  While I ask Jen to take my tables so I can spend the last few hours of service at the bar with Mr. Grumpy Pants, I see two whores—I mean, women—approach Matt.

  Like most of the single females vacationing in town, they’ve got a decade on me, and are wearing tops so tight their boobs spill out, and skirts that leave very little to the imagination—insert gagging sounds here. Luckily, that awful visual prompts pity from Jen, who agrees to switch tasks with me and goes to tend my tables with a disgusted expression, mumbling words about this place turning into a jungle—a reference to cougars, I believe.

  I take an order from a couple on their honeymoon, and watch with a raised brow as the women whisper and giggle with my boyfriend for a couple of seconds. I’m pretty sure that smoke is about to come out of my ears, because although he looks bored, he’s just sitting there, tucking his hair behind his ear and not telling those bitches to get lost.

  But then, just when I’m about to throw a rag at them, Matt taps his index finger on the bar, looks down at the visible scribbles on his arm, and smiles. The next thing I know he’s stretching his arm at them, and dipping his head toward me. A grin spreads across my face.

  I take his cue, and approach the three of them. “Can I get y’all a refill?” I ask, staring them straight in the eye. They look from him to me, pout, and walk away.

  Matt laughs and winks at me. With a smitten smile on my lips, I pour a dose of Jack, and place it in front of him. “To make up for the drink they offered.”

  He cocks a brow. “They weren’t offering me a drink.”

  Those bitches. “Well . . . I’ll be happy to make up for that at home.”

  He tilts his head, and I lift a teasing brow at him. A slow, sexy smile spreads on his lips, and I bite mine.

  Before I notice, he stretches his arm to the right, pulls the rope attached to the bell we use to indicate the end of service, and rings it twice. Commotion follows; people look around for the clock, hands fly in the air, waitresses are called for final orders, and people protest against the end of the booze buzz over the music. And as my coworkers look at me, puzzled and annoyed, I just point at Matt and crack up.

  For the next half an hour, I take orders, and assure customers that they still have a couple of hours of fun as Jen and Anna smack the back of my boyfriend’s head whenever they walk by him. When things finally calm down, I stop in front of his seat and start mixing a few drinks for one of Jen’s tables.

  “What do you wanna talk about?”

  Matt opens a wide smile. “I want you to go to Mobile with me tomorrow.”

  I frown. “Can’t. Sorry, I’m working all day.”

  Jen stops by for her drinks. As she loads them on her tray, Matt asks, “You’re not working tomorrow, right, Jen?”

  She shakes her head, making her chestnut ponytail wiggle behind her. Matt smiles. “Would you like to?”

  Big hazel eyes roll all the way to the ceiling. “I knew you were too good lookin’ to be smart.”

  He tosses a coaster at her. “I’ve always been one of those rare cases of looks and brains. And this is important, so I’m resorting to bribery.”

  I keep my eyes on them as I take the orders of a group of young men. Jen raises a brow at Matt, and brings the tray to her shoulder. “I’m listening.”

  “If you work Lexie’s shift tomorrow, the next time you and Jared want to go on a date, we’ll babysit Snotty.”

  I burst out laughing, and Jen quirks a brow at him. “Fine, but since you just called my son Snotty, we’ll make that twice with a sleepover, so Jar and I can work on a sibling for Scotty.”

  Matt grins and nods. “Deal.”

  Jen winks and walks away. I finish pouring the beers for the group of boys and return to Matt. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Explain. Why did you put us on Scotty-duty just so we can go to Mobile tomorrow?”

  “We have some shopping to do.”

  He’s got an up-to-no-good look on his face that makes me narrow my eyes, and shake my head. “Not enough. Explain further.”

  “I was finishing up things at the Andersons’ when Papa Wolf called.” I frown, confused at what that has to do with anything, but I smirk at his nickname for Tanie’s dad. “He wanted me to go over to his place to talk a few things over. So I rushed to Sally’s, showered because I was filthy, got a few clothes for tonight, and headed over there on my way to Wes’s.”

  He stops talking and just looks at me, his face beaming, his body bouncing up and down with enthusiasm.

  “And . . .” I prompt.

  “And, I need to buy tools because the high school job he told me about at Tanie’s party came through.” My eyes widen at the news, and keeps on widening as he continues. “I’ll have to open a company and sign a two-year minimum contract before things are completely final, but he wants me to start working there next week so the school will have a garden when classes start.”

  I squeal and prop myself on the counter to give him a celebratory kiss. A few men sitting near Matt look at me funny, and I don’t even want to know what is going through their minds. I also don’t care. I’m rightfully happy for my boyfriend.

  “There’s more,” he tells me.

  I motion with my hand for him to spill it. His smile doubles. “He talked to the mayor, and things are looking good, like really good, for me to take over the common areas around town, and Sally’s garden.”

  “Oh my God, Matt!”

  He nods at me. “Yeah.”

  “That’s huge.”

  Again, he nods. “Yeah.”

  “And you did that all by yourself.”

  He shrugs. “I had help.”

  I roll my eyes, and throw a coaster at him. Getting some help to accomplish something doesn’t mean he didn’t do it on his own. We all get help now and then, but the work was all his.

  To prove my point, I break my own rule of never drinking on the job and pick a shot glass from under the counter, fill it with Jack, and bring it up in front of my face. He brings his glass to clink with mine. “I’m so damn proud of you, Mathew Ian Rogers, that I think you should go back to Sally’s, get the rest of your things, and move in with me.”

  And now it’s his time to stare at me with wide eyes.

  Without peeling my eyes away from him, I bring the shot glass to my lips and toss the liquid down my throat. My eyes close, and my face twists when I swallow it. When I open my eyes again, I see Matt leaning over the counter and a raised hand calling me a few feet away. I know I should walk to my customer, but I can’t.

  “Are you sure, love?”

  I copy his signature smirk, wink, and nod.

  He laughs, takes a twenty from his wallet, and places it over the counter. “Buy these guys around to celebra
te.” He points to the strangers around him, who instantly start cheering. “See you at home.”

  I laugh as he walks away, high-fiving people. As per usual, he stops by the jukebox, puts in a quarter and presses a few buttons. Today’s pick is Lady Antebellum’s “Better Man.” He blows me a kiss from the door before walking out, and I go back to serving guys who thank me for the free drinks, and girls who look at me like I’m the luckiest of us all, and maybe, for the first time in my life, I am.

  When I finally arrive home from work, I find a path of roses guiding me to the bathroom where candles, a bubble bath, and my very gorgeous and very naked boyfriend wait for me. Even though we have plans for my day off tomorrow, we spend the whole night and well into the morning making every corner of this house ours.

  I yawn for the millionth time since we got up from bed, and take a gulp of the very strong coffee in my hands. By the looks of me, a person would think it’s five a.m, but in reality, it’s close to noon on a gorgeous Friday—exactly a month after our first date—and we’re almost at Mobile. My feet are propped on Greta’s dash and my eyes are carefully inspecting Matt’s shopping list.

  “You have some pretty big things on this list. You’re sure it’ll all fit in the car?”

  Matt looks at me from the corner of his eyes, and nods. “Yep. I’ve been planning this for days.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You decided to come buy these tools yesterday.”

  “Planning and deciding are two different things, my love.”

  Still grumpy from sleep, I shrug at his overly-confident ass, and turn my eyes back to the pretty trees lining the road, and sing along with the country tunes playing on the radio.

  Matt stays silent for the rest of the drive. Every now and then he steals a glance at me, and smiles, and though there’s nothing out of the ordinary in that, there’s something out of the ordinary with Matt. I just don’t know really know what it is, so I smile and wink at him whenever it happens.

  We pass the sign welcoming us to Mobile, and drive for a few more songs before Matt turns right. I frown, because as far as I can tell, we’re going in the opposite direction of the hardware store we talked about. I open my mouth to ask what’s happening, but before I get to it he turns left and enters the parking lot of a car dealer.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask, puzzled.

  Matt smiles, but doesn’t turn his face to look at me. “Getting the first item on the list.”

  I look down at the piece of paper in my hands. The first item listed is a pitchfork. I turn to him with a raised brow. “We’re buying a pitchfork at Tommy’s Auto?”

  His lips dance as he parks Greta in a spot close to the dealer’s office. “Let me look at that list.”

  I hand the paper to him as a round man with a pretty noticeable toupee steps out of the office’s glass doors, and walks in our direction. I watch him for a second and then turn my attention back to Matt, who curses through smiling lips and takes a pen from the side pocket of his cargo shorts. He props the paper on the dash and scribbles something before handing the list back to me. He kisses my cheek, opens his door and walks out.

  I look down to the paper in my hands, and I see he has added a new word above pitchfork: Truck.

  My eyes dart up to look at Matt, who is shaking hands and talking animatedly with Toupee Man. His gaze drifts to mine, and that smug smirk forms on his lips at the same time as those amazing eyes wink lovingly at me.

  In a haze of disbelief, I step out of the car and walk toward the two men. Matt drapes an arm around my shoulder and introduces me to Tommy, who compliments us on being such a lovely couple, and makes a little joke about the Sharpie writing on Matt’s arm that still hasn’t completely come off. Despite the man’s attempts to call my attention, my eyes stay glued on Matt’s calm face as Tommy evaluates Greta, a huge grin forming on his chubby face, and guides us to a certified pre-owned—Tommy’s words—dark blue Dodge Ram.

  Matt pulls me with him to inspect the truck, asking my opinion here and there about little things. I watch him, amazed, not believing that he’s parting with Greta.

  The Maserati is the last little bit of the old Matt, the last thread connecting the man I love with the man he used to be, and it was something I never thought he’d let go. He always said that he loved Greta too much. However, according to his own words on the way here, he’s been planning this for days. It makes me wonder if the change is only caused by his excitement over his new job and the necessity for a heavy-duty car it poses, or if it’s deep and permanent. I sure hope it’s option number two.

  Once he’s satisfied with his inspection, he steps inside the cab again, and looks at me with stars in his eyes. “So what do you think of her?”

  “She’s big.”

  He chuckles. “That she is. Do you think all the tools on the list will fit?”

  I roll my eyes and laugh. He kisses me the moment the first snort escapes my throat. I really don’t get what his thing with my snorts is, but I sure appreciate it.

  “Larry and the boys will hate you. They all have car boners over Greta,” I say when he pulls back from my lips. This time he’s the one who cracks up, and I’m the one kissing his laughs away.

  “Well, they’ll have to get over it, because Rosie is my new girl.”

  “Rosie?”

  Without saying a word, he touches the big rose tattooed on my shoulder. My overly-emotional instantly fill with tears. All of the roses he’s given me in the past month flash through my mind, and it all makes sense: he wants the last unclaimed flower on my arm, my favorite one.

  I kiss his lips again, and through that kiss I add his name and the face I can’t get enough of to the tattoo. “I love the name,” I finally whisper against his lips.

  Matt pulls his face away from mine, smiling like a child, and gives a thumbs-up to Tommy, who is standing a few feet in front of the monstrous truck. The man grins from ear to ear and walks to his office.

  After an hour of signing documents and fussing on the computer, we collect our final belongings from Greta and walk to Rosie. I expected Matt to have a final goodbye or to look longingly at Greta, but he does neither. He just starts the truck and drives away without so much as a glance Greta’s way.

  “You’re a changed man, Mathew Rogers.”

  He doesn’t say a word—just smiles at me, and brings my hand to his lips for a kiss.

  By the end of summer, my life found a new normal—one that involved a whole lot of adapting. There were some things that didn’t change, like work and my commitment to Kodee, but since Matt moved in with me and started his new business, one that is really beginning to bloom, the normal I once knew has been going through a sort of metamorphosis, and I’m learning that adapting to continual change is a necessity. And that’s okay.

  August marked the birth of Rose Landscape & Gardens. It’s very hard to keep my grin from reaching my ears whenever I think that Matt named his company, his dream, after me. The day he came home with all the contracts and showed it to me, I was flabbergasted, but he just kissed my lips and said, “I never knew I had that dream until you came along. RL&G is as much yours as it is mine.” I obviously don’t see it that way—RL&G is his—but I’m damn flattered by his way of thinking.

  So much happened in September that the month felt like a big blur. Matt hired help to finish the high school garden in time for the fall semester. Tanie and Eric finally set their wedding date for early June, and as the maid of honor and best man, Matt and I felt compelled to spend many days and nights with the happy couple—who got a little less happy when Tanie decided to go into bridezilla mode—planning the big day. And finally, when Kodee’s soccer team resumed its Saturday practices after the summer break, Matt volunteered to help coach. Coincidently, a lot of moms, older sisters, and even a few cousins who never watched a single practice before became more devoted to the Tuesday and Thursday practice sessions than they were Sunday morning church. Around here, that’s saying a lot. Bitches!

/>   October was calmer, cooler, and spookier. With Jolene’s famous Scare Fest being my favorite tradition around here, I spent most of my free time working on Matt’s, Kodee’s and my costumes. As per Kodee’s request, we dressed up as Disney characters gone crazy—and murderous—and though that was creepy, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the terror that loomed at my place of work.

  Halfway through October, Kyle started showing up at The Jukebox, at least four times a week, always in the middle of the afternoon when the diner was mostly empty—a routine he has yet to change, much to my disliking. He always comes in alone, and wearing his police uniform. At all costs I avoid tending to his table, and the girls—bless their hearts—always help, changing tables with me if he happens to fall in my section. Weirdly enough, he never complains about that. He just sits at a table, orders coffee and pie, and reads some papers from a brown paper file.

  Because I believe that keeping secrets, especially important ones, is the same as lying, after the third consecutive afternoon that Kyle showed his face at the diner, I told Matt about it. My expectation of his reaction was along the lines of an angry fit, followed by heavy nagging for me to quit my job. However, Matt’s reaction was more about sending a non-verbal message to Kyle.

  Matt arrived at the diner just moments after Kyle’s ass hit a chair. His expression was severe and determined as he took long, purposeful strides toward me, leaving me breathless and unable to pull my widened eyes from him. The moment he was within arm’s reach, his big hands pulled me to him, demanding and possessive but in the sexiest way possible, and he delivered a kiss that could have gotten me pregnant if I weren’t on the pill, and we were wearing fewer clothes. And then he sat down to eat, staring angrily at Kyle’s face.

  Yep, October was a crazy month.

  November was the month of cute. Matt started getting more and more work, which forced him to hire two full-time employees. The pride and joy I saw on his face when he told me made me melt. Tanie finally found her gorgeous princess-like wedding gown. The way she clapped her hands and squealed a giggled “yes” to my “Is this the one?” question made my eyes water. And finally, Kodee took a cue from me and Dacle Greg and started calling Matt, who’s been more present in her life than her father ever was, “Mad”—half Matt, half dad—and that put actual tears in my eyes.