3. Chapter 3
When I met this woman a year ago, I knew she wanted Sam.
I watch them as they chat for a few minutes. She”s flirting with him, and he doesn”t seem to mind.
”Let me show you what we”ve done in the back,” Zoe says to both of us.
”Yes, let”s go take a look,” I say, slipping my arm through Sam”s.
When we leave the studio an hour later, Sam can”t stop singing Zoe”s praises.
”Sounds like you like her,” I say.
”I appreciate her work ethic,” he says. ”I couldn”t have moved to Greece without her help. Yeah, I like her.”
I file the last part of that statement in the back of my mind to be addressed later.
”Where are you staying while you”re here?” I ask. ”Not in a hotel.”
”No, no, I”m staying at Loren”s,” he says. ”Loren”s old house, I mean, which reminds me that I have to go grocery shopping. Do you want to go with me?”
”Yeah, let”s go,” I say. ”I”ll get some stuff to make you dinner.”
Walking up and down the aisles at the grocery store, I can”t help but admire Sam”s good looks. His hair is darker than I remember. He used to wear it longer, with the ends grazing the back of his neck. Now it”s cut short on the sides and tousled on top. I like it.
”Has anyone ever told you you look a lot like Ryan Phillippe?”
”I”m taller,” he says, ”younger and better looking.”
”Don”t forget, more conceited,” I say. ”I hadn”t noticed it before, but now that you”ve cut your hair, why did you cut your hair?”
”The women I dated in Greece liked it short.”
I feel my nerves prickle.
”Ooh, more than one?” I ask, wanting him to elaborate.
”I was there for a year,” he says. ”I dated. Two of them were somewhat serious.”
”You never told me,” I say.
”You never asked,” he says. ”I asked you about Eric, but you never asked me about my love life.”
”I didn”t think it was any of my business,” I say.
”But we talk about everything,” he says. ”I expected you to at least ask me if I was seeing anyone, but you never did.”
Maybe because I didn”t want to know.
I watch him load our cart with bananas, strawberries, eggs, milk, juice, water, coffee, and yogurt. I grab a couple of steaks, bacon, spices, salt, and pepper.
”What about bread?” I ask.
”I don”t eat bread,” he says, ”unless it”s pizza.”
”Is that how you keep your svelte figure?” I ask, eyeing him from top to bottom.
”Are you checking me out?” he asks.
”Of course not!” I exclaim. ”I”m not the least bit attracted to you.”
”Oh, that”s right,” he begins. ”you”re only attracted to pretty boys.”
”Ha, ha,” I say. ”Leave Eric out of this. But speaking of pretty boys, I thought Zoe was going to have to mop the floor after we left.”
”What do you mean?” he asks.
”Yeah, she was drooling over you the entire time we were there. Don”t tell me you didn”t notice.”
That makes him laugh out loud. God, I missed his laugh.
”I don”t think I”m Zoe”s type,” he says.
”How do you know?” I ask.
”She likes men with tattoos.”
”Oh?” I ask, ”How do you know that?”
”Her ex-husband came into the studio one day to pick up their son. He has a full sleeve, and there”s probably more.”
”Well,” I say, ”if you weren”t deathly afraid of needles, I”d recommend you get one.”
He laughs, but it”s a fake laugh.
”Wait,” I say, stopping midway down the aisle and reaching for his arm. ”Do you have one? Where?”
”I never said I have a tattoo,” he says.
”Where is it?” I ask, knowing that he”s lying to me.
His silence only confirms it.
”Do you still like pasta?” I ask, saving the tattoo conversation for later.
”Yeah, I love pasta.”
”Good,” I say, ”I”m making spaghetti a la Carbonara for dinner, so let”s grab some pancetta, cheese, a good olive oil, and a baguette because I love bread.”
”How about some wine?” he asks.
”I don”t drink,” I say. ”You know that.”
”Not to drink,” he says, ”For the spaghetti sauce. I heard a good spaghetti sauce always calls for wine?”
”Not this one,” I say. ”You”re going to love it, I promise.”
On our way out, we run into Lisa, my soon-to-be roommate.
”Hi, you two!” she says in greeting.
”Hi,” I say, giving her a hug. ”Lisa, you remember Sam?”
”Yes, of course,” she says, shaking his hand. ”Loren let me know you”ll be staying in her house for a few days, so I cleaned it yesterday. You”re all set.”
”Thank you,” says Sam. ”You didn”t have to do that. I could”ve dusted everything myself.”
”It”s my job,” Lisa says. ”Three more months, and I”ll be retiring from housekeeping.”
”So, you”re still working for your mom until we move?” I ask.
”Yes,” she says. ”But I mostly clean for Linder and Morgan. They keep me busy. This week, I”m also cleaning Aaron and Loren”s house. I can”t wait to see them all.”
”It”ll be good to have the family together for like one day,” I say, realizing I”ll be leaving on Saturday.
”What do you mean?” asks Lisa.
”I”m going to San Diego with Sam.”
”For how long?” she asks.
”We”ll be in California for a couple of months,” says Sam. ”My sister is getting married, and I wanted to see Laila, so she”s coming with me.”
When Sam puts his arm around me and pulls me into him, my heart flutters. What the heck is that?!
”I have to stock Aaron and Loren”s fridge,” says Lisa. ”So, I gotta get going, but hopefully, I”ll get to see you before you leave.”
”Yeah, I hope so, too,” I say.
”If not, I hope you two have a great trip. Have tons of fun, but not too much fun,” she says, winking at us.
As soon as we walk into Loren”s old house, I”m flooded with memories.
This is where I witnessed Loren and Aaron falling in love.
This is where Sam almost kissed me.
When we start emptying the grocery bags, I notice that Sam is locked in his own memories of that night.
”Should we address the elephant in the room now or later?” I ask, putting my hand on my waist to emphasize my point.
”What are you talking about?” Sam asks.
”So, we”re just going to ignore what almost happened between us the night before you left Cold Spring?”
I pull myself up on the countertop and cross my arms, waiting for him to say something.
”If you want to talk about it, I”m all ears,” he says.
”Sam, you almost kissed me,” I say, hoping it will break the ice enough for him to open up.
”If memory serves me right,” he says, ”It was you who almost kissed me.”
”You say tomato, I say tomahto,” I counter.
”But we didn”t kiss,” he says. ”No harm, no foul. Besides, I”m not in the habit of kissing a woman who belongs to another man.”
”I don”t belong to anyone,” I say, my temper rising.
”You know what I mean,” he says. ”You were in a relationship.”
”I would have thought our friendship was enough of a deterrent,” I say. ”Or are you in the habit of kissing all your friends?”
”Just the beautiful ones,” he says jokingly. ”Can we talk about this later?”
”Why later?”
”Because I”m hungry,” he says. ”And if I piss you off, you might storm out of here without feeding me first.”
I guess that”s his way of breaking the ice. I”ll take it.
For the next half hour, we glide around the kitchen as if dancing without music and without touching.
While he puts away groceries, I add the spaghetti to boiling water and cook some pancetta and hot pepper flakes in olive oil.
When everything”s ready and I start topping his plate of Carbonara with freshly grated parmesan cheese, I say, ”Tell me about Greece.”
”I love it,” he says. ”But I”m moving back to the States next year.”
”Is there a particular reason why you”re coming back?” I ask.
”Greece was a social experiment, an adventure, but my life is here.”
He twirls some spaghetti onto his fork and takes a big bite. After that, ”hmm,” is all he says between each bite.
”We should talk about our trip to San Diego,” I say.
”Yes,” he says, ”you”re going to meet a lot of people. Let”s talk about my immediate family first.”
”Okay,” I say. ”Should I take notes?”
”Because I”ve talked about them so often,” he begins, ”you should already know them by name. Let me test you.”
”Okay,” I say. ”Shoot.”
”Who are my parents?”
”That would be Robert and Alice Jameson. They”ve been married for thirty-three years and have three children.”
”Good, good,” Sam says. ”Who are their children? If you know, please provide names, ages, and significant others.”
”Abby is your older sister,” I say. ”She”s thirty-one years old and married. Wait, don”t tell me.”
”I”ll give you five seconds,” he says. ”One, two, three.”
”Andrew! Abby is married to Andrew Thade. I don”t know for how long.”
”That”s ok,” he says. ”Keep going.”
”You”re the middle child,” I say. ”Your little sister, Emma, is the bride-to-be. She”s marrying Luke. I don”t think I ever knew his last name.”
”Parker,” he says. ”How old is Emma?”
”You”re twenty-nine, and I remember she”s a few years younger than you, so twenty-five?”
”You”re amazing!” he says.
”I am,” I say. ”Okay, your grandparents are next.”
”You get brownie points if you get both sets of grandparents right.”
I search my memory bank, pulling up the many conversations I”ve had with Sam in which his grandparents” names have come up.
”Ooh,” I say. ”This is hard.”
”Remember, Sam is my middle name. Samuel.”
”Yes. Yes, I remember that. You”re a third. Robert Samuel Jameson the third.”
”Yes!” he exclaims.
”So, your grandfather”s name on your dad”s side is Robert, too. His wife, your grandma, is Janice. Robert and Janice Jameson.”
”I”m impressed,” he says. ”One more set of names, and we”ll be done for now.”
”Your mom”s maiden name is West. I know your grandma”s name is biblical, but also something like a candy bar.”
”You”re close,” he says.
”Baby Ruth! Her name is Ruth West, and her husband is Martin. I did it!”
I jump to my feet and so does Sam. He comes around the table and hugs me. I missed his hugs.
”I think we”re all set,” he says, looking into my eyes.
”I missed you,” I say.
”I missed you too, Laila. I missed you so much.”
After we wash the dishes and put them away, we sit on the couch and go over names again.
”So, what exactly did you have in mind as far as us?” I ask. ”What are we going to tell your family?”
”Mom has tried fixing me up with every one of her friends” daughters over the years.”
”So why are you still single?” I ask.
”For the same reason you are,” he says.
”What?” I ask. ”You”ve been focused on your career, too?”
”No,” he says. ”I haven”t found the right person.”
”I guess my career has kept me from finding the right person,” I say. ”Zoe would love to go out with you.”
”Oh yeah?” he asks, teasing me with his gaze.
”Why don”t you ask her out?”
”Maybe I will,” he says, calling my bluff.
”Really,” I say. ”So, you find her attractive?
Zoe has platinum blonde hair cut into a pixie. She”s maybe five feet tall and has a curvy body. She wears a lot of jewelry, including a few earrings in each ear and one in her nose. She has the name Shawn tattooed on her wrist. I wonder if that”s her child or her ex.
”Laila Marie Linder,” he says, ”are you jealous?”
”Absolutely not!” I say vehemently.
”I think you”re jealous,” he says again—this time in a teasing tone.
When I cross my arms, he starts tickling me.
Suddenly, I think of Jon and how he arches his back when I tickle him. Is tickling Sam”s love language, too?
”Stop!” I say. ”Stop!”
I laugh, and he laughs. Next thing I know, I”m resting in his arms, with my back on his chest. He puts his hand up, and I put mine over his.
”Your hands are huge!” I joke.
It feels different when he shifts his hand and interlaces his fingers with mine. Intimate. I”ve held his hand this way plenty of times, but when he does it just now, my heart skips a beat.
”When we”re in San Diego,” he says, ”we have to act like we”re dating.”
”Okay,” I say, feeling the warmth of his skin touch more than my hand. I feel it inside my soul.
”My family is very affectionate,” he says.
”So is mine,” I counter. ”You”ve seen my sisters with their husbands. Shoot, my mom and dad!”
”So, how exactly should we handle the public display of affection necessary to pull this off?” he asks.
”Holding hands is a must,” I say, squeezing his hand.
”Expect me to put my arm around you more often,” he says. ”They”ll be expecting that.”
”I think we”ll be okay in that regard,” I say. ”We”re pretty close friends, and we don”t feel awkward around each other.”
”Well,” he says, ”I”ve been gone, so we have a little catching up to do.”
”Thus, the handholding right now,” I say, pulling up our intertwined hands as proof.
”I think we got this,” he says, smiling.
”What about kissing?” I ask.
”What about it?” he asks. ”I”ll kiss you on the cheek.”
”If we go two whole months without one kiss,” I say, ”they”ll know something”s up.”
”I”ll tell my family you”re uncomfortable showing affection out in the open.”
”Do you think that”ll suffice?” I ask.
”Well,” he says, ”what do you suggest?”
”We”re both adults,” I say. ”I think we can give each other a peck here and there. They wouldn”t be expecting us to make out in front of them anyway, right?”
”Right,” he says.
”Do you want to practice?” I regret the words as soon as they”re out.
”You want me to kiss you?” he asks.
”If we wait until we”re there, it”ll feel awkward.”
He lets go of my hand and pulls himself off the couch. For a second, I think he”s going to ask me to leave. Instead, he reaches for my hand. I take it, and he helps me up. Now I”m standing only a few inches away from him. I smile as I look into the deep blue ocean in his eyes.
”Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.
”What”s a little peck between friends?”
I close my eyes and wait for his lips to meet mine.