17. The Park
Chapter seventeen
The Park
Maria
W ell, this day took a turn I wasn’t expecting.
While I was up at the crack of dawn this morning, nursing Brielle and checking our flights online, I heard the familiar notification of an incoming email.
From Sam.
The surprise made my heart leap out of my throat. Once I opened it and read it, I reread it again. Then a third time because I was in shock. Sam was emailing me, and he’s in town.
And he wants to see me.
The spike of adrenaline I got when I read his words reminded me of the excitement I felt opening his written letters. I mean, of course I would meet him. This could be a chance to catch up, and I can properly apologize for hurting him the way that I did.
So, without a second to think, I replied.
And now here I am, standing at the entrance to the pavilion at Mill Creek, the warmth of the sun on my skin as I wait for him to show. The longing I have to see him has turned my head into a furnace. As I run my hands down my flared tan dress slacks, I can’t help but wonder if I look okay. It took me the longest time trying to decide what to wear.
With a ton of pent-up energy, I shuffle my feet, the strain of the pointy four-inch heels I’m wearing pinching my toes. My perfectly pressed white button-down blouse is driving me crazy, with its pristine fabric clinging to my body in the heat. My hair, pulled back into a neat chignon, offers a welcome relief from the sweltering temperature. That doesn’t stop a bead of sweat from running down my back. Honestly, this whole getup is suffocating on a scorching day like today, but Nate always insists his wife look flawless at all times.
His words, not mine. I kid you not.
One thing is for sure, I do not look like I’m dressed for a casual walk in the park. A woman who is about to take charge in a boardroom as CEO? Yes, that’s how I appear at the moment. But Nate wants nothing less.
I watch the parking lot as cars come and go, and I realize that I have no idea what Sam drives these days. So, I watch and wait, my hand resting on the stroller, rolling Brielle back and forth. Finally, a silver Saturn pulls in, parks, and Sam gets out, looking incredible as usual. He’s wearing jeans and a navy-blue t-shirt as he exudes an aura of confidence and style. And I know he’s not even trying, which is what makes him so great. Plus, he’s wearing walk-in-the-park-appropriate attire.
With each confident stride, determination becomes more pronounced on his face. I’m surprised he hasn’t smiled yet since I’m grinning from ear to ear. As he approaches, I lift my hand in a friendly gesture, but he walks right past me as if I’m invisible. My smile fades as I track his movements. His eyes scan the area eagerly, trying to find me.
He walked right past me and didn’t recognize me. Do I look that different? I guess I do. The Maria he knew and loved wouldn’t leave the house to go for a walk in the park in this getup.
He didn’t know it was me. The thought sends a quick pain straight to my chest.
Shaking my head to dismiss these thoughts, I call out to him before he gets too far away from me. “Sam!” At the sound of his name, he spins around to see who called him. His head tilts to the side in my direction, and I become aware of the obnoxious oversized sunglasses I’m wearing. I lift them onto the top of my head so he can see my face. As soon as we lock eyes, he realizes it’s me.
“Maria?” he asks, walking over, still unsure. He pauses, standing directly in front of me. “Wow! I didn’t even recognize you.” With a perplexing expression on his face, he scans me up and down, trying to decipher something. His eyes hold a blend of confusion and admiration. “You’re so dressed up. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you look fantastic. But just … really dressed up.”
“Yeah, well, Nate likes me to look good no matter where we are, so …” I say as I shrug. As Sam processes this revelation, his eyebrows furrow in a perplexed manner. He shakes it off, smiles, and stretches his arms out, more than likely wanting a hug. We both let out an awkward snicker, the tension palpable between us. As we step forward to hug, our heads collide instead.
“Ow!”
“Oh, geez!”
We both exclaim simultaneously. I rub my forehead as our laughter fills the air. Sam steps back, foregoing the hug because I am sure he is feeling this awkward tension as much as I am. He puts his hands in his pockets, clears his throat, and diverts his attention to Brielle, peacefully asleep in her pram.
That’s right, a freaking pram. I wanted a practical stroller, but of course, Nate vetoed it, saying he didn’t want his wife looking like a soccer mom. Whatever that means. So my mother-in-law bought this pram like we live in the turn of the century England or something. I hate it. It’s ridiculous and impossible to get in and out of the car. But again, what can I do?
“So, who is this little one?” His voice softens as he peers at my daughter, and I realize we haven’t said hello to each other yet. It also occurs to me that this is our first time seeing each other since the shed, and a wave of regret washes over me. The day I made the second worst decision of my life when it comes to Sam.
I watch him stare at my daughter; his eyes filled with curiosity. “This is my angel, Brielle,” I answer, my response dripping with pride. I may not have chosen the right life partner for myself, but one thing is certain. That decision brought me Brielle, and she is my life. I wouldn’t trade her for anything .
Sam’s gaze shifts from me to my daughter, his eyes filled with … what I don’t know. Once again, I struggle to read his face as he studies her. It’s killing me, since it’s my only gateway to his thoughts. And I am not about to ask him what’s going through his head right now.
He appears … sad.
“She’s gorgeous,” he says as he admires Brielle and touches her small delicate hand. “Congratulations, Maria.”
“Thanks. She’s pretty amazing.” Our fingers brush briefly as he pulls his hand away at the same time I lean forward to adjust her blanket. This quick light touch floods my whole body with heat.
And it shouldn’t.
He turns back in my direction, a slightly awkward smile playing on his lips, as he slips his hands into his pockets, then back out again. Sam, who is always so confident, looks nervous and unsure. “She looks just like you.”
And he’s right, she does. She bears no resemblance to Nate.
I nod in agreement. We stand at the entrance of the park, taking in our surroundings, purposefully avoiding eye contact with neither of us talking. The silence lingers, and the tension in the air is almost suffocating, even though we are outside. It’s a beautiful day. The sky is blue and full of big, puffy clouds. Birds are singing as people mill around us, enjoying the park’s beauty.
But this awkwardness between us is new.
And I don’t like it.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally makes a move, his attention drawn to my shoes. “So, will you be able to walk the path in those shoes? Because, I mean, we can get coffee somewhere instead,” he says, thumbing behind us.
I possess a hidden talent he is unaware of: the ability to walk flawlessly in heels with little to no effort.
All because Nate makes me wear them.
“Nope, I’m good.” I grab the handle of the pram and start forging ahead to prove my point. I put my sunglasses back on to shield my eyes from the intense midday sun. Sam falls into step beside me, and the uncomfortable silence settles back in .
Being with Sam is doing a number on my heart. There’s an undeniable feeling of being loved and secure that washes over me whenever I’m near him. Despite what Nate offers me … a vast roof over my head, a big bank account, fancy clothes, and frequent vacations … none of it compares to Sam.
But this silence is sucking the life right out of me, so it’s time to bridge the conversation gap. I finally gather the courage to do so. “I was really shocked to get your email.”
His shoulders slump, and he remains fixated on the ground. “My mom gave me your email address, and I thought that since I was in town, it might be nice to catch up. You’ve been emailing my mom?” he inquires, his gaze not leaving the ground, oblivious to my longing for his beautiful brown eyes to meet mine.
“Just a few times. You know how well your mom and I got along. And after, well …”—he nods his head, knowing what I’m about to say as I let out a long breath—“everything. I missed her. She was like a second mom to me.”
“She loved you.” He pauses as if this conversation is drudging up the past that he is trying hard to forget. “Has she seen pictures of Brielle?”
As we continue to walk along the path lined with colorful flowers, the gentle breeze brushes against my face. Glancing down at Brielle, I double-check to ensure she is well-wrapped and protected from any potential chill. He breaks the staring contest he was having with the ground, his eyes observing Brielle with an expression bordering on anguish.
And I know why.
He wishes Brielle was ours. From the beginning, our plan was to get married and build a future filled with little footsteps in our home. Sam wanted two kids, and I always wanted three. Our lighthearted banter about it became a recurring inside joke, with us pretending it could make or break us.
Little did we know what would break our relationship.
Me. Young, stupid Maria who can never stand up for herself. Just thinking about that time causes a dullness to form in my chest, followed by a lump in my throat. I push it all down before I continue.
“She has. I sent her one recently.” He hums in response. “I heard you got married.” Without saying a word, he nods, his eyes never straying from the path ahead. It’s slowly killing me that he won’t look my way. This tension and tight conversation is driving me nuts. The way we used to be with each other has dissolved, fading into the distance like the passing years. Breaking the ice is essential, and I have to figure out a way to do it.
“What’s her name? Cara?” I ask, nudging him in the side with my elbow. My face breaks into a smile as I pose the joke disguised as a question. His head snaps in my direction, and our eyes finally lock. I lose the smile, unable to determine if he’s mad, or…
Oh, geez. Did he marry Cara?
In the few emails that his mom, Elizabeth, and I exchanged, she avoided any mention of Sam’s wife. And I didn’t ask. She only mentioned that he was married, leaving the rest of his personal life a mystery.
Suddenly, the open air around us fills with the best sound—Sam’s contagious laughter. It’s so infectious that before we know it, we are both in hysterics.
Mission accomplished, tension is now broken.
“I guess that’s a no?” My question comes out in short bursts of laughter.
He shakes his head, regaining his composure. “No, I didn’t marry Cara.”
Thank God!
He continues. “Her name is Erica. And I’m not sure why the thought of marrying Cara made me laugh so hard, but it did.” A breathy huff escapes his lips. Coming to a sudden halt, he swivels around to confront me. “Can we start over? I feel like this started off … strange.”
“Sure,” I say with a genuine smile. With a giggle and a small wave, I offer a second greeting. “Hi, Sam.”
“Hi.” His face breaks into a large, toothy grin. “Can we maybe try that hug again?”
You bet. He doesn’t need to ask me twice.
Stepping towards each other, butterflies dance in my stomach at the thought of holding him again. Our arms wrap around each other, and it feels like….
Coming home.
And it shouldn’t. My home is with Nate and Brielle. It’s a safe and secure home that is partially full of love. Brielle did that. But Sam … I know that if I had a home with Sam, love would be causing the walls to burst.
God, he feels so good. Wait! No, he doesn’t. This does not feel good.
In an instant, Sam tenses up, as he withdraws from our hug. The embrace is quick, as friends. A gesture I am grateful for because touching Sam, though only slightly, is … dangerous.
We start back on the path, and I can’t help myself. I need to know about the woman he married.
Is she pretty?
Is she good to him?
Is she better than me?
Why am I doing this to myself?
“So, tell me about Erica,” I inquire, as I bite the side of one of my nails, nervous about his answer. Plus, I’m still reeling from a three-second hug.
He gives me a curious look, his eyebrow lifting in response. “You really want to know about my wife?”
I shrug, trying to be nonchalant, and failing. “Sure. I mean, that’s what friends do when they catch up, right?” I’m still nibbling on my nail, and I can’t seem to stop.
He pauses, almost as if he is reluctant to talk about her. But why?
“Well, she’s the complete opposite of you,” he starts.
My finger drops from my mouth . What does that mean? Never mind, I don’t want to know.
He continues, his voice remains steady. “We met at a brewery in Atlanta and dated for four months before getting married.”
My feet come to an immediate halt. I’m unable to continue walking due to the shock coursing through me. Four months? He only knew her for four months before marrying her. I can’t wrap my head around this. I’m not sure if I’m hurt because he didn’t propose to me after years together. Or if I’m floored that Sam did something this … spontaneous .
As Sam takes a few more steps, he becomes aware that I’m no longer beside him and stops, pivoting to face my direction. His head tilts as his eyes scan me with interest. “Shocked you, didn’t I?”
After a few seconds, I find my footing and take fast steps to make my way back up to meet him.
“You did.” I pause, the silence hanging heavy as I gather my thoughts. I clench my fists around the handle of the pram. “She must be pretty special if you married her so quickly.” My voice trembles.
Am I hurt? Or is this jealousy? Whatever this emotion coursing through me is, I need to get it under control.
“It definitely was quick. But she’s great, and we have a lot of fun together.”
“I’m happy for you, Sam, truly.” And I mean it. If we can’t be together, his happiness means more to me than anything. And if Erica makes him happy … so be it.
But why didn’t he ask me? I push that thought down. Deep, deep down.
With a slight frown, he purses his lips together, deep in thought. “So, how are things with you and Nate?” His voice carries a hint of sharpness, adding an edge to his question. The last time we saw each other, he was begging me to choose him and not Nate.
“You really want to know about my husband?” I ask, throwing his question back at him.
He barks out a hearty laugh. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“And besides, the only thing you need to know about Nate is lying asleep in this pram. I got the best part of him.”
A small, knowing smile plays on his face as he glances in my direction. “Do you like being a mom?” he asks as we approach a bench. He motions for us to sit down with a sweep of his arm. Yes, please, because my feet are killing me in these shoes ! We sit down, positioning Brielle right beside us.
“Being a mom is unlike anything I have ever experienced. When the doctor placed her on my chest, it was like she filled a hole in my heart that I didn’t even know was open. I never knew love for another human could feel like that, ya know? ”
“Well, actually no, I don’t know. Not yet, anyway.”
I sit back and cross one leg over the other, settling in for what I hope is a long conversation. It’s nice talking to my friend again. “Do you and Erica want kids?” I’ve never been so invested in an answer to a question. And why should I care? He has every reason to start a family with his new wife. But still …
“Honestly, we haven’t talked about it. But you know how I feel about starting a family.” He shrugs. “I’ve always wanted one.”
When he says this, he returns his attention to Brielle, and his eyes reflect a bittersweet combination of affection and sadness, piercing my heart. Looking at her is really bothering him. “I have no doubt you are an amazing mother.”
My heart aches at his words.
All I wanted was to experience motherhood with Sam by my side. Instead, Erica will be the mother of his children. This realization is almost too much. And I need to remember that it was me who got us here.
This conversation has to change back to something that doesn’t remind me of the stupid mistakes I made to implode my life. I gently pat him on the knee, feeling the warmth of his leg through my hand. “So, tell me about school. I want to hear all about it.”
As his face lights up, he unloads, and the weight of the day lifts. At last, we have returned to a state of comfort and ease with our conversation. Our laughter fills the park, carrying with it the joy of years past, as if no time has gone by. We talk about stories of our shared history; I tell him about Brielle’s birth; he walks me through his schooling. It’s so easy.
An hour later, I know it’s going to be time for Brielle to eat, and even though I don’t want to, I need to get going. We make our way back to the pavilion, taking slower steps, neither of us wanting this to be over.
“Hey Sam, would you mind waiting with Brielle?” I ask before our time together is over. “I really need to use the restroom. It’ll just be a minute, promise.”
“Of course not. Go right ahead.”
As I turn and head to the pavilion, I can feel his stare burning into me. But I won’t turn around. I can’t .
As soon as I take care of business and leave the pavilion, I am met with a sight that stops me in my tracks. A sharp intake of breath fills my lungs because there, standing on the sidewalk, holding my daughter, is Sam. He’s swaying and humming a soft tune as he stares at her with soft eyes. Instantly, I’m sick to my stomach, so I clutch my abdomen. The sight is too much. Feeling the cries ready to escape my mouth, I cover it with my other hand.
Brielle should be his daughter. We, Sam and I, should be her parents.
Fearing that he saw me, I turn on my heels and make a beeline for the bathroom, where I lock myself in the stall I just left.
And sob.