Chapter 7 #2
Would I have been able to see him with Claire and not have my heart splinter with each breath? Claire is a lame excuse at this point since they were engaged for less than a year.
“There are a lot of things I regret, Kat. But I’m still your friend. I’m here when you’re ready to have me back.”
Friend… the word strikes me like a punch to the gut. I feel like I can’t breathe.
I start walking again to put some distance between us. Seeing a nearby trashcan, I throw my empty coffee cup away and continue walking.
Sam catches up too quickly, and I feel his gaze on me. I refuse to look at him and instead look at the houses we pass without seeing them. I know I told Liv I would try to be Sam’s friend again. But God, this is so hard. How do I set my broken heart aside and let him in again?
Feeling like I need something to do with my hands, I pull my hair back and loop it into a bun before releasing it and letting it cascade down my back again.
Once I know I can speak without my voice shaking, I try to break the tension.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to over the last few years.
I know you live in Chicago and that you’re an architect.
I know you didn’t marry Claire…” My gaze snaps up to him, and I grimace.
I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.
Rather than acknowledge my embarrassment, Sam tells me about his life in Chicago. “It’s very different from Charleston. Different than even Seattle. I like it.” His voice is almost hesitant.
“But?” I ask, sensing he’s holding something back again.
“But…” He gives me a knowing look. “It isn’t home. I miss being in Charleston. I moved to Chicago because of… well, because of Claire.” He looks over at me. I school my expression at his mention of her.
As he searches my features for the answer to whatever question he’s looking for, he continues.
“I love my job, and Chicago is probably the best place for my career. It’s…
” He pauses like he’s contemplating what to say next.
“Chicago has this rich architectural history.” His voice is laced with enthusiasm.
When we were kids, Sam would stop and just stare at different houses or businesses and admire the structure. Hearing him speak about his career like he enjoys it makes me happy for him.
“It’s one of the major birthplaces of so many incredible architectural styles and designs. I couldn’t be in a better place career-wise.” He perks up a bit, but I can tell something is missing in his words.
“Tell me about your office. Is it fancy?”
He chuckles at my question but obliges. “It’s on the 95th floor and the view is incredible.
I wish you could see it.” He peeks over at me before continuing, “I have a wall of windows that overlooks the city. There’s something so calming about looking out at the buildings.
” He fully looks at me now—his expression is guarded.
“That sounds amazing, Sam.”
“It is. You know, I had a few of the pictures we took hiking in Seattle blown up, and they’re hanging on one of the walls in my office.”
I look up at him in surprise. “Really?” I wonder if any of the photos we keep in our offices match.
“Of course! Those were some of the best days of my life. I loved spending time with you.” I’m not sure what to think about this confession. Best days of his life?
“Mine too.” It comes out little more than a whisper. I look at the ground as I take his words in.
When we get to the park, we walk over to a bench and sit in companionable silence, letting the weight of our conversation settle.
Looking around the park, I see the pineapple-shaped fountain, a popular tourist attraction in Charleston.
The grass is green and looks lush. I want to take off my shoes and sink my feet into it.
The park isn’t crowded, but there is a steady stream of people.
During the summer, this park is always packed.
I look over at Sam and realize he’s watching me. I can’t stop the flush that creeps into my cheeks and look down at my hands.
The wind blows again, causing some of my long hair to drift towards him. I pull my hair back and mutter an apology. He just smiles back at me.
“I worry about leaving Chicago,” Sam breaks the silence, “and being able to keep my career moving forward like it has.” I study his face as he speaks. He almost looks sad.
“You want to move back to Charleston.” It’s a statement, not a question. I cross one leg over the other and stare at my hands.
“Yes. Chicago is… lonely, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends.
” He shifts his position, propping a knee onto the bench, filling the space between us.
My breath catches as his knee brushes my thigh.
I’m glad he doesn’t seem to notice my reaction.
“My dad is getting older, and I don’t want to miss out on spending time with him while I still can. I’ve thought about it for a while.”
I completely understand what he’s saying because I’ve been thinking the same thing. I want to move back to Charleston. And now that Ethan is gone? I let the thought drift off before it takes hold.
He clears his throat. “Enough of that. Your turn. I have to admit I never thought you would go to law school.”
Going to law school was always Ethan’s dream.
It wasn’t mine. I wanted to follow in Mom’s footsteps and open a bakery or a bookstore—maybe both.
Mom was much happier after she opened the bakery with Sam’s mom.
Once the bakery took off, they were able to hire full-time employees and focus on new recipes and raising us kids.
“I know,” I sigh. “I didn’t know what to do. Law just seemed like the easy choice.”
He laughs. “Law and easy are not words I imagine go together.”
I smile. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I just mean, my dad did it, Ethan did it, hell, Mom did it too. So, I figured I would have the support I needed to go through with it and people who understood the process.”
It seemed inevitable that Ethan would follow in our dad’s footsteps. He always had that analytical brain. School came easily to him.
I’m not like Ethan. I always had to work hard to get good grades, and learning how to read and interpret cases didn’t come easily to me.
I felt lost in my first year and heavily relied on my family to help me get by with just Bs throughout school.
By my second year, I was in a good swing and understood what I needed to do to succeed.
Sam and I are both quiet for a moment, and I look up at him. He looks contemplative, as if something isn’t adding up for him. Instead of asking, I barrel on about my career.
“My clients love me, and my colleagues respect me. I’m on the fast track to becoming a partner in five years. I’ve worked so fucking hard for this.”
“So why do you sound miserable?” I look at him, searching his gaze, trying to place what made him think I’m miserable.
“I wouldn’t say I’m miserable, exactly.” Am I miserable?
He looks at me. Questioning. He doesn’t push when I don’t answer his silent question.
I don’t know what to say, so I shrug and give him a small smile.
I’m not miserable, but I never thought I'd end up living so far from my family and missing out on so much with them. I never imagined I would have a closet full of plain suits and boring work clothes. I feel like somewhere between going to college and now, I’ve become a person I never imagined for myself.
I don’t know that it's a bad thing. Just… different.
We sit in silence for several minutes, watching the other people in the park. My mind drifts to the times we spent here when we were kids. Riding our bikes, playing hide and seek, not a care in the world. Here we are now, adults, barely talking to each other, and Ethan—I miss him already.
“I’ve missed you, Kat. More than you know.” Sam’s quiet and tender words startle me, breaking into my internal thoughts. I look up at him and search his eyes. His expression is somber but sincere and vulnerable.
“I’ve missed you, too, Sam.” My voice is too quiet. I’ve never really stopped thinking about Sam. Never stopped wanting him.
If I were being honest with myself, I’ve compared all of my partners to him, and they’ve never stacked up.
I’ve spent the last several years thinking back to our time at UW, wishing he hadn’t been dating Claire. Wishing he wasn’t ready to propose to her. Wishing I hadn’t blurted out that I was in love with him.
I should have responded to his messages. I should have opened the door each time he came to my dorm room. I shouldn’t have avoided him all these years. I should have done so many different things.
But I can’t change the past. All I can do is move forward. Maybe Liv was right, and I need Sam to get through all of this.
As we made our way around the park and eventually returned to my parents’ house, we continued chatting about everything: what we do in our free time, friends we’ve made in our respective cities, and how we thought our lives would be different.