The Reason I Stay (43 page)

She tilts her head back, looking so deep into my eyes that I feel her staring into my soul. Involuntarily, my hand moves up to her face like it did at the church, and this time, she doesn’t shake her head or pull away. Instead, her eyes fill with tears, and a she takes a deep breath through parted lips.

“It’s nice to finally know you, Mathew Ian Rogers. I’ve missed you more than words can describe.”

I want to laugh, and cry, and run around clicking my heels, but I do something a lot better. I bring my lips to hers, and kiss her with all the love, and longing, and passion in my heart, and finally, I’m home.

A
lthough I’ve always believed in happiness, I’ve never believed in happily-ever-afters.

I think my skepticism towards that concept was a consequence of growing up with no parents, an uncle who postponed his happy ending indefinitely, and a best friend who died prematurely. However, on the Sunday that marks the second anniversary of my and Matt’s first encounter, I find myself thinking that the idea of two people and never-ending happiness is not only possible, but eminent.

After all, today is our wedding day.

Unlike most girls, I never spent more than two minutes dreaming about my wedding. I never wanted the perfect ring, or a big fluffy dress, or tiered cakes, or even a fancy wedding reception. No, my expectations were a lot simpler—and a lot harder to come by. I wanted a happy marriage to a man who truly loved me.

As I step outside our home in a simple flowery dress, my arm laced with Dacle Greg’s, I see exactly what I dreamt of.

Instead of a band playing the wedding march, I step onto the sand at
our
beach to the sound of some good ol’ country music coming from the diner’s jukebox, which is on our back porch as a wedding loan. I make my way through the joyful faces of our closest friends and family—including some unexpected ones, like Dennis, his wife Alice and their two adorable kids, as well as Lea and her boyfriend Thomas—to a simple canopy facing the ocean, and a breathtaking sunset.

And there, standing barefoot in khakis and a button-down shirt, with our dog Cash by his side, and a red rose in his hand, is Matt. He gives me an ear-to-ear grin, and the whole world fades away.

Matt is what my dreams were made of. The best friend, the partner, the one person with whom I get to be completely myself, and the reason I stay hopeful and happy, even when life sucks. He’s the best part of every single day, and though he’s far from perfect, he makes life as close to perfection as it gets. And now, he’s about to become my husband.

Once we reach the canopy, Dacle Greg kisses my cheek and walks away. Matt and I lace our fingers together as the justice of the peace starts his speech. I have no idea what the man says—all I know is that Matt holds my gaze, and I hold his.

He tucks his hair behind his ear.

I tap my index finger on his palm.

He winks and I smile.

Continue reading for an excerpt of Patty’s debut novel: EXCEPTION.

T
he corridor seemed to stretch into an eternity of worn-out wooden floorboards, faded walls with broken mirrors and a sickening mold smell. Identical doors with large brass knobs lined the walls at different intervals.

Emily walked the hallway with a tight knot forming in her gut. She’d been in that place many times before and knew exactly what to expect; but, as much as she hated that place and those doors, and what she would find on the other side of them, she knew she couldn’t help but to open them.

Ignoring the first two doors, Emily stood in front of the third and took a deep breath, allowing the mold and dust to fill her nostrils. Her shaky hand reached for the round handle and, in one swift movement, she opened the door. As soon as her feet crossed the threshold, she regretted her choice.

A familiar dimly-lit street, littered with rubble from a nasty car wreck, spanned the space before her. She’d been there before—but this time, there was something different. It wasn’t anything specific; just a different charge in the air that made her skin crawl.

Within seconds, the door she’d entered through vanished, and bright lights and loud noises engulfed her. The female shrieked hysterically. Her words made no sense, but they still got Emily’s blood boiling. A painful, childish cry came from the rubble, replacing every thought in her mind with a desperate need to save the tiny person asking for help.

Her feet and her agony urged her forward, but, before she could take her first step, a hand caught her neck in a steel grip, cutting the flow of oxygen to her lungs. Reaching up she clawed at the hand, but her efforts were useless. She was weak and powerless, and completely subdued. The warmth of disgusting whiskey-scented breath touched her ear, affirming all her previous thoughts, as a male voice whispered, “You’re mine, princess. You’ll always be mine.”

Bile rose to Emily’s mouth at the sound of that voice, and her fingers clawed more vigorously, her nails digging into his skin until they drew blood. Still, his hold didn’t loosen. Hot and heavy tears fell from her eyes and she hated how weak they made her look, but she couldn’t keep them in.

“Take your damn hands of me,” she demanded in a raspy whisper. “Don’t ever touch me. No one can touch me.”

Loud, wild laughter followed her words, as another set of hands clasped around her neck, crazed laughter and an evil male and female chorus echoed like creepy bells in her ears. Tears streamed from her eyes like rivers. Her body stiffened as the whiskey breath neared her once more.

“You’re still here, princess, and here you belong to me.”

Emily’s mouth opened and she forced her vocal cords to produce some sort of sound, but nothing returned to her ears. Her muscles trembled and weakened as her assailants closed in on her, calling her name. The repulsive smell of alcohol filled her nostrils again, heightening and spreading more and more panic through her every limb. Her tears became waterfalls, wetting her face and hair.

Then Emily’s eyes flew open and she saw her older sister, Charlotte, sitting by her side. Her big blue eyes were wide and terrified as she held Emily’s limp body against her own.

“Shh . . . it’s okay Emmy, it was just a dream,” Charlotte whispered against Emily’s hair, her arms wrapped around her baby sister with a vicelike grip as she rocked both their bodies back and forth.

“They touched me Charlie, both of them. He said I still belong to him because I’m still here,” Emily cried on her sister’s shoulder. “I hate that they touched me . . . I hate it.”

Arching her body back to look at her sister’s face, Charlotte kissed the tears running down her cheeks away and forced a smile. “Good thing that you’re not sticking around for much longer, right?”

She waited in silence until Emily’s tears had stopped and her body had relaxed; then, with loving arms, she leaned back to the mattress, holding her sister flush against her tiny frame. “Now sleep, sissy, because tomorrow you’re crossing the country in a U-Haul truck to start a new life and leave all these bad memories and nightmares behind.

“I’m so proud of you for taking this chance to reinvent yourself,” Charlotte continued in a soothing voice. “I know sometimes you feel weak, but you’re not, honey, you’re so strong and so incredible, and so deserving of the best life has to offer. I’m sure you’ll find happiness on the East Coast.”

Emily closed her eyes, paying close attention to her sister’s words, words she desperately wanted to believe.

“You just have to use your gut, keep your wits, and give deserving people a chance. We all know you can hold your own alone. We all know you don’t mind being a loner, but having people, friends who love you, is an amazing gift; so, if people approach you, if they want to get to know you—give them a chance. Don’t make it easy for them, though. Make your standards as high as your heels, and don’t accept anything less, but don’t immediately dismiss them, either. Promise me you’ll do that? Try to be happy? Promise me you’ll try to love people, and allow yourself to be loved in return?”

“Charlie . . . ” Emily began to protest.

Rolling her eyes and hugging her sister tighter, Charlotte spoke over Emily’s words. “Don’t ‘Charlie’ me, just promise, or I’ll pack up and Chuck and I will go with you.”

Emily wanted to laugh at her sister’s tenacity and her unique way of resolving the situation. Lightly bobbing her head against her sister’s shoulder, she replied, “Okay, I’ll try.”

Curling her lips in a small but genuine smile, Charlotte knotted her pinky with her sister’s and kissed her soft wet cheek, like she used to do when they were kids. “Thanks sissy. Now sleep.”