July 23rd
I told you so.
Ainsley
I’m out on the golf course, driving the beverage cart to the next hole, thankful that my shift is almost over.
I’m making a mental list of the things I want to do tonight—most revolving around ordering a few groceries since Damon as well as Sammy and Roman will be here tomorrow—when my phone rings. The caller ID says it’s hotel security.
I answer. “This is Ainsley.”
“It’s Larry from up at the guard shack.”
“Hey, Larry. What’s up?”
Larry is an older gentleman who is rumored to be a retired CIA operative. I don’t know if he plays the role of hick very convincingly or if he really is one. No one does.
“We got a guy up here at the gate that says he’s fixin’ to be stayin’ with you. Are you expectin’ a visitor today?”
“Um, no, but I am tomorrow. Who is it?”
“Name on his ID is Samuel. Says I can call him Sammy. And he’s been sputtering on about a disastrous final exam and a devastatin’ breakup. Guy seems a little unhinged, if you want my professional opinion.”
“A breakup,” I fume. “I swear, I’m going to kill Roman.”
“You’re not actually fixin’ to, are ya?” Larry says. “Because if so, I will pretend I didn’t hear those words, for they would indicate premeditation.”
“Uh, no, I don’t mean it. I’m just upset that Sammy’s ex came back into his life, only to upend it again. Please let him in and—actually, let him in but keep him there with you. I’ll drive back to the club, find someone to cover for me, and then I’ll come get him.”
“Oh Lord, help me,” Larry says. “There’s boo-hooin’ going on again. He’s definitely off his rocker.”
“You got any alcohol in the guard shack, Larry?” I ask him.
“Only for medicinal purposes,” he replies.
“I think Sammy may need some medication.”
“Roger Wilco on that,” he says before hanging up.
“Ahhhhh!” I yell, getting my frustration out.
I can’t believe Roman did this to Sammy. AGAIN!
I’m also upset Sammy had gone back to the asshole to begin with. But I can’t say that.
I drop the beverage cart off at the club, beg my manager to finish the last fifteen minutes of my shift, and drive to the resort’s entrance.
I can see Sammy sitting in the guard shack, holding a drink and seemingly shooting the breeze with Larry. There are currently no tears, and he doesn’t look the least bit unhinged.
But the second I pull up, he comes rushing out of the shack and throws his arms around me before I even get the golf cart stopped. I press the brake and stand up, hugging him back.
“Don’t even say it,” he says to me.
“Say what?” I ask.
“I told you so.”
“I’m not going to say that. You did what you felt was right for you. But what happened?”
“I’ve been telling Larry here all about it.” He turns around. “Haven’t I, Larry?”
“Yes, you have.” Larry’s wearing a strained smile. “And while I’m sorry for the tragedy that has descended upon your life”—Larry looks at me—“his words, not mine”—he turns back to Sammy—“I’m gonna need you to get the hell outta my shack. I got work to do.”
“Come on, Sammy,” I tell him. “Let’s get you settled.”
Sammy tosses Larry his keys. “Can you take care of—” he starts to say, but Larry tosses them back and goes, “I ain’t no damn valet, son.”
“Follow me,” I tell Sammy. “I’ll show you where to park.”
Once we get his car situated and I get him and his bag loaded onto my golf cart, I head toward my cottage.
“It’s real purdy up in here,” Sammy says, trying to mimic Larry’s accent. “I ain’t been to the Ozarks since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”
“You seriously are not going to talk like that all weekend.”
“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I reckon it’d be kinda fun.”
“I reckon it would be even funner if you slept in a tent.”
“Whatever,” he says, holding the plastic cup in his hand. “Cheers to the Ozarks. And to probably failing my final.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I ask gently.
“I literally couldn’t concentrate during the test.”
“I meant with Roman.”
He downs the rest of whatever Larry gave him. “This stuff tastes like straight-up gasoline,” he says, shaking his head.
“If I had to guess, it’s moonshine. And a strong one.”
“Well, when in France—I, er, mean, the Ozarks. Oh, bloody hell, you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. You’ve gone British,” I tease.
Sammy does a little smile. “So, here’s the skinny.
I wanted to get packed before my final so that I could relax with Roman tonight, as we had planned an early morning start to our trip tomorrow.
I had just finished when he called. He told me—literally almost word for word what he had the last time I tried to get him to meet my family—that it’s too much because I’m not the only person he’s seeing. ”
“But you were in a relationship, I thought.”
“I thought too!” he says, starting to blubber. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What did you do last time?” I ask him, even though I know the answer.
“I let the misery take over my life. Questioned if I was a lovable person. Wallowed in sorrow and self-doubt.”
“And what should you do this time?”
“Drink,” he says, holding up the empty glass. When I tilt my head and squint my eyes at him, he says, “Although I am well endowed, clearly, I need to grow a set.”
Not what I was expecting him to say, but it suffices.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
I show him the cottage and get him settled in his room upstairs. It has a pretty view of the water and a balcony set with a table and comfy chair.
“This is adorable,” he tells me. “I’m calling it elevated rustic luxury. Very nice.”
“Why don’t you get unpacked while I shower off and change? Then if you want, I can show you around the resort. Are you hungry?”
“Part of me says that I’ll never eat again. The other part of me wants nothing but decadent food and drink.”
“Lucky for you, I know exactly where we can get that. But only tonight. He doesn’t really deserve your tears.”
“I know he doesn’t. And I’m certainly glad I learned all of this now. I can be over him forever and move the eff on with my life. You know, when you came here, I put it out to the universe that you would meet a man, and you did.” He smiles at me. “Damon’s going to be here tomorrow, right?”
“Right,” I state.
“I’m so excited to meet him in person. At least there’s one bright thing about this weekend.”
“I’m excited for you to meet him too,” I say.
I’m feeling refreshed after my shower, so I slip on a breezy sundress. And when I do, my hand falls to my belly. I’m definitely not showing yet, but it looks—no, it just feels a little different.
And I realize I may have to adjust my plan.
That I might not be able to wait until the end of the season.
I look up on my phone when it becomes obvious to others that you’re pregnant.
It says it varies, but typically by the end of the second trimester, which would get me to mid-October, depending on how much I’m showing.
I go out into the living room and find Sammy on the couch, flipping through a magazine.
“You look lovely,” he says. “Am I dressed okay?”
“Yes. You look nice.” And I mean it. Sammy is handsome.
“The place I’m taking you for dinner is the resort’s nicest restaurant. They are booked full, but the staff is holding us a spot at the bar. The food is so incredibly good. In fact, I took the liberty of preordering us some starters. Let’s get going.”
Not only is Sammy nice to look at, but he’s also the kind of person who has never met a stranger.
People love him. And tonight is no exception.
He’s spoken to all the patrons around us, and he’s on a first-name basis with the staff.
He’s sipping champagne to celebrate his new life—or at least, that’s what he’s telling everyone.
When I refuse a glass for the second time, he goes, “What’s up? You love champagne. You should splurge with me.”
“I really don’t drink much when I’m working here in the summer. I’m out in the sun all day, and I really have to focus on not getting dehydrated.”
“That means there’s a story,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me and grinning.
“Not a story. I just learned my lesson after going out one night. To be honest, I didn’t even drink all that much.
It’s just that I had already been dehydrated from working out in the sun all day and threw in the alcohol.
The next day was my worst day ever on the job.
I felt horrible. And since then, I make sure that no matter how busy I am, I take care of myself. ”
“That’s what I have to do,” Sammy says. “Start taking care of myself. I let myself get so wrapped up in Roman. I’ve done nothing but eat a lot and work out very little.” He looks down at his now-empty dinner plate. “Obviously, not starting tonight.”
“Tell me about your classes. What are you taking this summer?”
“Art Appreciation is the final that I probably failed. Monday, I start History of Design.”
“Oh, I loved that class. It’s crazy how what people wear is such a clear indicator of what’s going on in their life.
As you’re living it, you think they’re just trends, but they really are often dictated by things like war and peace.
Good times and bad. Religion. Politics. You’re a history buff, so you’ll love it. ”
“At least I’ll love something.” He pouts.
“You have one more semester of school, and then you’ll be getting a job and moving. You have a lot to look forward to.”
“We both do,” he says, holding his flute up.
I pick up my water glass and clink it against his. “To us.”
“To us,” he agrees. “And I’m hoping to get a job in the Kansas City area so I can be closer to my big, crazy family.”
Sammy’s mom had two children, and his dad had three when they married. Together, they had three more children, Sammy being the youngest.
“Especially since Mom and Dad are getting older. It’s crazy that some of my siblings are old enough to be my parents and that I have nieces and nephews who are almost my age.
We sure have a good time together though.
” He rolls his eyes. “Although there’s always a little drama.
Just last week, during a family barbecue, my sister Suzie and her husband got into a fight over something stupid. ”
“What was it?”
“In this case, it was because he had left the corn dish she’d made to share sitting on top of the car and drove off. It fell off on the highway and broke her favorite casserole dish.”
“That’s kind of funny.”
“Well, luckily, we all do get along for the most part. Speaking of family, how are your parents?”
“Mom is doing well, likes where she’s living, and she’s dating someone. Neither of us has heard from Dad since he left rehab. It’s one thing if he’s mad at Mom or whatever, but not to call me is just kinda mean.”
“Addictions wreak havoc on families. I know I’m sitting here, drinking champagne, but I’ve been considering cutting out alcohol. Did you know that a lot of professional athletes don’t drink? Or they do, like, just on special occasions or during their offseason?”
“Is this your offseason?” I tease, but what I’m really thinking is, this will be great. I won’t have to explain why I’m not drinking. “Seriously though, I would do it with you. We can come up with some fun mocktails for our dinners this fall.”
“I feel like we’ve always eaten pretty healthy, but we should work on that too. When we graduate and start new jobs, we’ll be lean, mean, working machines! Speaking of jobs, what are you hoping for?”
“Something that I will love in the town with the man I love.”
I try to stifle a yawn, but Sammy notices.
He glances at his watch. “What time did you get up this morning?”
“Up at six and working by seven.”
“And when does Damon get here?”
“Around eleven. I guess he’s flying down this time.”
“Must be nice,” Sammy says.
“He’d spend all day driving otherwise,” I counter.
“True. Well, I’m looking forward to hanging out with him. Let’s head home.”