Chapter Twenty Two
I lead Rory back inside and guide her back to our bed. It still
irks me, knowing the real reason she ended things with me. All this
time I blamed myself. All of the things that upset her—my fighting,
almost getting arrested—I was sure it was too much for her to
handle. That I was. After all, it was what she told me. And now to find out
that she'd blamed herself, that she thought she was
protecting me…I
can't help it, it makes me angry.
But not with
her.
With myself.
I should have known what
she was doing. And if I wasn't so blinded by my own self-loathing,
I would have.
It makes perfect sense of
course. I knew she blamed herself for that accident. She told me as
much.
He died Sam, and it was
all my fault.
I should have nipped that
in the bud back then. But she wasn't ready to hear it. I hate that
she lived in such fear for
me. That she ended us because she blamed
herself for the death of the last boy she loved and she couldn't
bear the thought that I could be next. It wasn't rational, but I
understand it all the same. I just wish I knew it then, wish I
could have talked sense into her.
All of this heartache has
been for nothing.
But at the same time, I
finally understood something.
That Rory really loves me.
That she loves me like I love her. Enough to sacrifice her
own happiness for my well being. To know that she loved me all this
time, that she was hurting all this time, just because she thought
it was the right thing for me… it's pretty damn
humbling.
"How could you ever think
I could hate you?" I murmur as I run my lips over her
collarbone.
"I… You were so mad," she
says nervously.
True. "I'm going to get
upset sometimes, Ror. But I could never hate you. Don't ever think
that," I tell her.
She sighs. I love the
sound.
"I wanted to talk to you
about something." It's probably not the best time to bring it up,
but we don't exactly have a whole lot of time.
"What?" She asks, watching
me warily. I guess the last time I said that it started that
argument. I hope this doesn't start another one.
"Come with me to the
prom." Shit. Too blunt. I meant to ease into it. Her eyes widen and
I watch her long, delicate throat as she swallows
anxiously.
"I don't think I can,
Sam." But she sounds unsure.
"Of course you can," I
encourage her.
She shakes her head. "Sam,
I want to. I want to do everything with you. But school dances…
they're a trigger. And anyway, everyone's had their plans made for
months, prom is in a week!"
I lean down and nuzzle
her. "It's not a school dance. It's not in the gym; it's at a
country club. It's more like a wedding reception than a homecoming
dance, Ror. Plus, barely anyone will even dance. We'll sit around
our table and talk with our friends and pick at our food, then
we'll go to the Hamptons for the rest of the weekend. It will be
fun. And we already have a party bus and everything, all you need
is a dress. And God knows you'd look beautiful in anything. You can
wear your jeans for all I care." She'd still be the most beautiful
girl in the room.
A small smile. I'll take
it. "It's not in the gym?" she asks, obviously the trigger she was
worried about.
I shake my
head.
"You really want me to
come?"
Now I shake my head
incredulously. She's ridiculous. "Yes, baby. My friends would never
let me get out of it, and I would never take anyone else." I look
at her meaningfully. "I really want you to come."
She groans. "Ugh, fine,
I'll go to the stupid prom," she concedes.
Yes.
I grin widely in triumph.
"Suddenly I'm looking forward to next weekend," I admit.
Rory smirks. "What about
this weekend?"
I smirk right back at her.
"Let's just say I can't wait for Chip to drive back home so I can
have you all to myself."
"You have me all to
yourself right now," she says wryly.
This girl.
"Like I said, I've never
felt luckier."
We don't make love again,
though I definitely could. I always could with her. But I don't
want her to think this is only about lust. It isn't. Instead, I
just hold her, and we talk. She tells me how it felt to listen to
me flirting with that girl in that bar and I apologize, but I also
tell her that if it's what made her come to her senses and take me
back, then I don't regret it. I was never going to hook up with
that girl.
I tell her how it all felt
for me. Trying to pretend she was nothing more than a friend.
Wanting her all the time. And then hearing her call me a friend
after we made love in her bedroom. My voice cracks at the memory.
Rory tears up, and I kiss her cheeks dry. She tells me she thought
I hated her after that. It amazes me all over again—how she could
possibly convince herself of such a thing. She has more
insecurities than she lets on and I need to be mindful of them. I
need to tell her how I feel about her more, and I resolve to do
just that.
I tell her I want her to
relax after the stress of the last two days, so I call down to the
spa and book her a manicure and pedicure. My mom and Bits always
say it's what they do to relax, and since I'm pretty sure Rory
wouldn't be up for a full body massage, even with a female
masseuse, it's the best idea I've got.
I tell her I'll ride with
Chip to take her mom to the airport so he doesn't have to drive
back alone, but really I want to get to know him a little better. I
also may have a few questions for him.
Rory goes to her mother's
room to say goodbye and I go with Chip to get his car from the
valet. We both hang back while Rory and her mom hug each other and
exchange emotional, but apparently celebratory, words. Rory heads
down to the spa, and Amy, Chip and I climb into his pickup. He
really is a country kid, through and through. It surprises me that
he's going to school in New York, but then again, I get the sense
that he feels alienated from his peers in his hometown and I
suspect it has more than a little to do with his choice to support
Rory, and it wins him more points in my book.
I help Amy with her bags
at the airport and I'm a little startled when she pulls me into a
bear hug and thanks me for being there for her little girl. It's
weird to hear. Sure, I'd kill for her little girl, but I also just
fucked her little girl senseless barely two hours ago. And now I'm
thinking about fucking her again.
Shit. Grandma Lena, Grandma Lena, Grandma Lena.
Amy hugs Chip, too, their
goodbye a little more drawn out, and then we head back to the
hotel.
We're silent for a few
minutes, each feeling the other out. I know he must have as many
questions for me as I do for him.
"So…" he says finally.
"You and Rory have gotten pretty close," he observes.
That's what he's going
with? "You could say that."
"Can't say I was expectin'
it. She only moved up north, what? Six months ago?"
Actually it's been less
than five, but who's counting? "What can I say—we hit it off." I
don't want to give him details about my relationship with Rory, but
then, I do want information from him.
"She's been through a
lot," he says pointedly. I'm not sure I get his meaning.
"I know that."
Obviously. Does he think
I thought we just came down here for a quick vacation?
"You seem to really care
about her…"
He's fishing. I resent it.
But I also appreciate that he cares about her enough to pry. So I
give him the truth. "I love her."
He nods like he was
expecting it, but also like he needed to hear it.
A few more minutes pass
before he speaks again. "You know, I didn't just mean about Forbes.
When I said she's been through a lot…" He glances at me, and I wish
he'd keep his eyes on the fucking highway in front of him. "You
know about Cameron Foster?" he asks.
"Yeah. She told me what
happened."
Chip nods. "It was hard on
all of us. But for her… it's what sent her over the edge." This is
it, my lead in. I shouldn't need to ask. I should be secure enough
in my relationship not to feel threatened by her past. But here I
am, just the same.
"What was their deal?" I ask him, feeling like the world's
biggest fucking pussy. But this might be my only chance to really
understand what I'm dealing with here.
Because I can accept that
she loves him. I can accept that he'll always be here, in
everything we do, because he's a part of who she is. I'm okay with
that, honestly. I can even accept that they may have had unresolved
feelings that went beyond being platonic best friends. But I need
to know how deep that went.
Because as much as I wish
it wasn't true, her heart has a past.
She had real feelings
for that motherfucking bastard
at one point, too. After all, she stayed with him
for months, even before he started hurting her.
And she had his fucking
football tee shirt by her bed.
And then the day after
they broke up, she was making out with her best friend, who she
loved, and who certainly loved her. And while her heart has a past,
mine has known only her, will only ever know her.
So I need to know what
we're taking with us into this relationship. Because I'll do
whatever it takes to keep her, to make her want to stay with
me.
Chip watches me curiously,
as if vaguely suspicious of my angle, but also kind of like he
understands why I'm asking, and that pisses me off. I don't want it
to be understandable. I want to be overreacting. I want there to be
nothing to be worried about.
I don't blink. I just wait
for him to answer me.
Finally, he sighs and
shakes his head. "They had a special bond, you know?" he
says.
No, I don't fucking
know.
Yes, I do know.
"They were like brother
and sister… but then not
brother and sister, you—"
My glare tells him that
asking if I know again isn't the best strategy in making me take this any
better. I just hope it doesn't make him change his mind about
opening up.
He shakes his head again,
as if amused by me, and that pisses me off even more. But he keeps
talking so I let it go.
"He was in love with her.