18. Chapter 18
Istand by the open glass door and listen as Mom asks Laila, ”So, how did you and Sam find each other?” Laila expertly delivers on all the points we practiced and more. By the time she”s done giving her little speech, Mom and Grandma are convinced Laila is in love with me.
When I open the screen door, they all look at me, ”Hey,” I say. ”Is dinner ready?”
”It”ll be at least another hour,” says Mom. ”There”s a vegetable and dip platter in the refrigerator if you want to snack on something before dinner.”
”Do you want me to get you a small plate?” asks Laila.
”No,” I say. ”That”s ok. I”m going to go wait in the den.”
”I”ll come with you,” says Laila.
I want to tell Laila she doesn”t have to come with me, but when I look at the women in my life, they”re all beaming with joy. Laila sold them on the idea of us together, hook, line, and sinker.
Laila takes my hand and leads me towards the den. I hear Mom say they should have some lemonade out on the porch while they wait for dinner to be ready.
When we round the corner leading into the den, Laila turns to me. ”What the heck is going on?” she asks. ”And don”t tell me it”s nothing. You look like your dog just died, and you don”t have a dog!”
”Laila,” I say, ”what are we doing? We”re lying to my parents. My whole family thinks we”re together. They like you. My sisters have welcomed you into the family. My parents and grandparents love you.”
”Isn”t that what we wanted?” she asks. ”This was your bright idea. Why does it feel like I”m being blamed for something? Why are you mad at me?”
”I”m not mad at you,” I say.
”Oh, but you are! I can read you like a book.”
”I”m just not sure this was the best course of action.”
”Again, not my fault. If you want to be mad at someone, go look in the mirror.”
”I”m sorry,” I say. ”I should”ve never brought you here.”
”That hurts, Sam. Remember, just last night, you were ready to make love to me? Now you”re sorry I came? What changed exactly? Is it because we”re sharing a room, and now you know we will never be sharing a bed? Did you think we were going to come here and we were just going to have a fling? Two for the price of one? Get your family off your back during the day and enjoy a friend with benefits at night, huh? Oh, I”m so mad at you!”
I”m speechless. It”s painful that she thinks I”d want to take advantage of our situation and sleeping arrangements.
”Is that what you think? I ask.
”What else am I supposed to think?” she asks. ”We were fine last night. Everything was perfect until I told you.” Her green eyes are burning a hole through my heart right now. She”s so angry.
”I”m going upstairs. You can tell your family I have a headache. I”m going home tomorrow. Excuse me.”
I watch her leave, but I don”t follow her. The feeling of deja vu rattles my nerves and plants the seed of doubt and fear right in the pit of my stomach. It”s happening again. The woman I love is walking out of my life.
There are eight of us at the dinner table: all the grandparents, my parents, Emma, and me. I tell my family Laila is not feeling well, knowing that once she leaves tomorrow, I”ll have to come up with a better excuse. But then again, our plan was to pretend to be together and then make up a breakup. Well, making it up won”t be necessary after tonight. There”s enough chatter going on about the wedding to keep the focus off of me or Laila. Emma is so happy and excited. She”s going to be a beautiful bride.
”Sam,” says Emma, ”Laila asked us if you have any tattoos.”
”She did?” I ask.
”I told her there was no way you”d ever get one because you hate needles.”
”What did she say after that?”
”Nothing,” she says. ”She said she knows about the needles and that she was just curious.”
After dinner, I volunteer to do the dishes, and as I”m wiping down the counters, Mom walks in.
”You did something stupid, didn”t you?”
”What?” I ask.
”Come on, Samuel. When was the last time you offered to do the dishes? Whatever it is, you need to apologize. Go!”
Laila is in the bathroom taking a shower when I return to the room. Her suitcase is open, and most of her clothes are folded and laid out on the bed. She”s leaving.
Twenty minutes later, Laila walks out of the bathroom. She”s wearing black pajama bottoms and a pink ribbed tank top. Her hair is loose around her shoulders. Her eyes are red. She”s been crying.
”Laila, I—.”
She raises her palm, ”Don”t say anything. It was a mistake for me to come here. I should”ve listened to my family. Pretending to be something we”re not is not good for either of us.”
She starts packing her suitcase.
”What time are you leaving?” I ask.
”Your fitting at the tailor”s is at nine. I should be gone by the time you get back.”
I let her be and go into the bathroom to shower. It”s probably for the best, I keep telling myself. When I return to the room, Laila is in bed facing the wall.
”Laila,” I say, ”I know you”re awake. Listen, I”m sorry. I don”t want you to leave. What happened last night made me realize how much I care about you. It was even harder to admit that I was careless. One stupid mistake on my part could”ve resulted in you regretting our friendship and could”ve driven a wedge between us. I have to remember that we”re friends and nothing more. I will keep that in mind going forward. No more misunderstandings. I don”t want to lose you, Laila.”
She finally turns around to face me. She sits up in bed and looks at me. Her eyes are puffy and red. I hurt her. God, I”m so sorry I hurt her. I want to touch her, but I”m afraid to. Before I can ask her if we”re okay, she wraps her arms around my neck. I hug her back. She”s soft and warm. Her body melts into my embrace.
”Are we okay?” I ask.
”You”re my best friend,” she says. ”I can”t stay mad at you.”
”I really am sorry,” I say. ”Do you forgive me?”
”I forgive you,” she says.
I take both her hands in mine and bring them to my lips. I promise myself that this will be the extent of how I show her affection going forward. Her friendship is more important to me than my feelings for her. Next month, I”ll return to Athens, and our friendship will return to normal. When I come back to the States, she”ll be in Boston, and I”ll be here.
I help her put all her clothes back in the drawers and in the closet. I”m relieved to know she won”t be leaving. We”ll have to set some ground rules that will prevent us from getting too close. As deep as our attraction is for each other, our friendship comes first.
”Do I look as bad as I think I do?” she asks.
”You look fine,” I say.
”You”re lying,” she says. ”My whole face feels swollen.”
”Hold on,” I say, standing up. ”I think we have some ice packs in the fridge.”
I pull two ice packs from the refrigerator and wrap them in a towel.
”Here, put this over your eyes.”
I watch her slip under the covers and then place the ice packs over her eyes.
”Keep them there for ten to fifteen minutes.”
”Okay, Dr. Jameson,” she says, smiling.
”That actually has a good ring to it,” I say. ”Maybe I missed my calling.”
”Leave the doctoring to me, will you?”
”Yes, ma”am,” I say, walking to the closet to pull out my bedding for the night.
I keep my eyes on her and watch her drift off to sleep, the ice packs still covering her eyes. I get up and gently lift them off her face. The swelling has gone down, and her breathing is deep and steady, signaling that she is fast asleep.
I sit on the couch and open my laptop to answer a couple of emails from work. Then I see another message from Patricia in my inbox.
Dear Sam, I”m thinking of you. Love, Patricia.
She sent it at eleven twenty-nine, four minutes ago. That means she was lying in bed writing me an email. I power off the laptop and get up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.
I glance at Laila. She looks like an angel. Her skin is pale and smooth. Her long dark eyelashes dust her cheeks. The freckles on her face seem darker, maybe because she”d been crying. I made this woman cry. I never want to do that again. I gently pull the top of the blanket up to cover her arms. There”s that birthmark on her shoulder begging me for a kiss.
I lean down and gently kiss it. When I glance at Laila, her eyes are fixed on me. They are clear and as green as an emerald ocean.
”You missed,” she says sleepily. ”Try again.”
All reason, all willpower, and all promise of never again are completely forgotten as my lips descend on hers with all the love, passion, and desire I”ve been holding inside for two long years.