Chapter 10
SAM
Avery didn’t miss a beat. She seemed to have the night planned.
"I was thinking more like a bottle of wine, although I think this has already escalated to whiskey level.
And we can definitely put on some music, as long as you promise, one, to stop with the innuendos, and two…
Hmm, I have to think about the second boundary. I need to make it a good one."
She was adorable, and I played along. "You can have as many boundaries as you want."
"No, no. You seem to have trouble keeping track of them," she said with sass. "Best to limit the number. Maybe then you’ll remember them. I can make us some kick-ass cocktails, if you want. We have Coke and bourbon. It was in one of the boxes your brothers carried in."
"Okay. I haven't drunk Jack and Coke in a while."
"It's not fashionable anymore, is it?" she asked.
"Honestly, I've been gone for so long that I have no clue what drinks are in.”
“Gin. It’s popular, and I love it. But we don’t have any.”
"I'll order some if you like it," I countered.
"You don't have to order it for me," she said.
Why was she surprised that I wanted to do something for her?
She jumped up from the table, about to take her plate, when I scolded, "No, sit. I'm cleaning up."
"But I didn't cook."
"You're making cocktails." I winked at her.
I cleaned up everything while she busied herself taking out the drinks and mixing them expertly.
"You’re doing it professionally," I remarked.
"I worked as a bartender for a while when I was in community college. I also waitressed."
"How many jobs did you have, exactly?"
She laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "Who can keep track? I took everything that came my way, and it was still impossible to keep up with bills."
"Why didn’t you tell me? I would've helped."
She stopped putting ice cubes in the drinks and looked up at me. "I know you would have. That's why I didn't tell you."
"That makes no sense."
"Oh, Sam. Let's not get into it tonight."
"You promise we'll talk about it another time?"
"What if we never do? That sounds like a great plan."
I swallowed hard, moving closer to her, putting a hand on the counter and the other at the small of her back.
She straightened up abruptly, as if an electric current rushed through her. I was very close, but she wasn't making any attempt to move away or put distance between us. Her perfume was damn intoxicating.
"I always wondered why you left like that," I said softly. "Why you kept me out of your life."
She turned her head to look straight at me. Her breath was shaky. "Sam, it wasn't like that. I didn't want to cut you out. I didn't even want to leave. I just had to." She swallowed hard. "And I didn't want you to get bogged down with everything. Let’s not sour the mood, okay?”
She handed me a glass.
"Want to go out on the balcony?" I suggested.
"Sure. But I’m going to need a cozy blanket. It’s cold."
"What's with the coffee cup?" I pointed to the empty cup next to the bottle of Jack.
"I used it to measure the alcohol. I'm not sure if I got the ratio right, but we'll see, I guess."
I took the “cozy blankets,” as she called them, from the couch, and we went on the balcony, where there were two chairs overlooking the crowded street.
The building in front of us was full of colorful murals.
Jazz music played from a corner down the street.
We sat in the chairs, clinked glasses, and started sipping.
She seemed utterly relaxed, wrapping herself up in the blankets, eyes closed, smiling contentedly.
We both drank our cocktails in silence—maybe a bit too fast. I’d emptied my glass before I knew it, and so had she.
"This is so blissful."
"It really is. I haven't had this feeling in years," I said.
She blinked her eyes open. "What do you mean?"
"Just being home and relaxing.”
“I imagine the pace is different in Doctors Without Borders."
"Yes. Especially because at first I was in areas with lots of conflicts."
She tensed. "Were you ever hurt?"
I shook my head. "Nothing really bad. I once got a stray bullet in my left leg."
She gasped. "Oh my God."
"I took it out myself pretty quickly. I wasn't left with any permanent nerve damage or anything."
She looked at my left leg, and I cocked a brow. "Want to see proof?"
"Maybe."
"What a creative way to tell me to take off my clothes."
She laughed softly. "I know it's noble and everything, but wow, going to an unstable area is something. When did you move to Honduras?"
"When I started having a relationship with another doctor here in Chicago. I moved to Honduras so I could fly home more often. There are more direct flights to Chicago from there."
She nodded and asked, "Did she visit you?"
"No. Wouldn’t even meet me halfway for a vacation. That should've been a clue, but it didn't sink in. I just assumed she was busy. To be fair, she was. Her schedule looked pretty much the way mine is now."
Avery nodded. "Is she working with you now?"
"No, she's at a different hospital."
"Okay."
I shook my head. "Damn, I usually don't talk so much. How much alcohol is in this, exactly? It feels strong, but I haven't had a Jack and Coke in years, so I'm not sure I remember how it's supposed to taste.”
Avery frowned. "I don't know either, to be honest, but I don't think it's that strong. Want me to make another one?"
"Sure."
She rose to her feet, dropping the blankets to the floor.
"Whoa." She lost her balance, gripping the door with both hands.
"Are you okay?" I jumped out of my chair, intending to steady her. Instead, I realized I was having huge balance issues of my own. The floor seemed to tilt at a ninety-degree angle before it corrected itself. I grabbed the other edge of the door for support and put a hand on her back.
She leaned into my touch. "I guess they were pretty strong, huh?" she murmured.
"Yeah," I replied. "How about some water?"
"Good idea."
"Careful. There's a step down from the terrace," I said.
"I know."
I put both hands on her waist from behind, guiding her. Why I thought I was in any position to keep her safe, I had no idea, but every instinct told me to try anyway. We walked slowly in a straight line until we reached the kitchen counter.
"Oh God," she said, looking at the cup.
"What?"
"I messed up. I should’ve added another measure of Coke. We’re going to be so out of it tomorrow."
"I don't have a shift," I said immediately.
I filled us each a glass of water from the tap. She was leaning against the kitchen counter and immediately grabbed the glass, drinking with huge gulps. So huge, in fact, that water spilled out from the sides of her mouth and straight onto her dress, making it transparent.
"Oops," she murmured, setting the glass down. Then she noticed her dress. She grinned, covering the see-through patch above her right breast with her palm.
I was semihard already. This was insane.
"How do I keep making a mess of things around you?" she asked. "You make me nervous."
"I don't want that. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"I didn't say uncomfortable, Sam. Just nervous. I thought this would be easier."
I moved closer to her. I shouldn't have, but I did. I put my hand on the other side of the counter. If I pressed myself just an inch closer to her, our bodies would be touching.
"What? Living with me?"
"Yes. So much time has passed that I thought we'd be perfect strangers. Back then, you know, I didn't want to leave," she murmured.
I looked her straight in the eyes. "Then why did you?"
She shrugged. "I was head over heels in love with you. I thought… I thought you were the one."
Fuck. The confession was like a punch to my gut. "So, why did you leave?" I insisted.
"Because you had so many plans. To go to college and go to med school and join Doctors Without Borders. And when I heard of Mom's illness, I knew that for the next few years, I'd be bogged down with trips to the doctor and worries. And I didn't want that to weigh on you."
"It wouldn't have weighed on me. That is not who I am. You know that. I would've been there for you every step of the way."
"While trying to make the grades for med school? You can't know that." She ran a hand through her hair, biting her lower lip. "It doesn't matter anyway. What's done is done. I figured… well, I guess I figured back then that if you really wanted us to be together, you would've reached out somehow."
I brought my hand to her jaw, turning it until we were making eye contact again. "You made it clear you didn't want that, so I didn't. No matter how much I wanted to come after you."
"You did?” she whispered.
"Yes. Fuck yes." I ran my thumb over her lips.
She shuddered, moaning against my skin. The reverberation went straight to my cock. I cupped her cheek, and she clasped my wrist.
"Sam, don’t… or I'll let you kiss me." She was shaking slightly.
I rested my forehead on her temple. My lips brushed her cheek near her ear. "Why shouldn't I?"
She didn't reply right away, and we spent the next few seconds in silence. I was waiting for her to gather her thoughts. I desperately wanted to kiss her, but I wouldn't do so until she gave me the green light in no uncertain terms. I was drunk as hell, but I still needed her to clearly say yes.
I squeezed the kitchen counter more forcefully. I needed to kiss her more than I needed to breathe right now, but she still wasn't giving me the okay.
"Sam, please," she muttered, and I moved away. It was the only logical thing I could do. Being near her was physically difficult.
"I think we had too much to drink," she said.
"We can agree on that," I replied. "I’m going to bed.”
“It's nine o’clock.”
"We're going to need all the sleep we can get. And water.”
“And aspirin."
"I don't have any," I said automatically. "I usually just take what I need when I go to the hospital."
"I don't have any either." She pouted.
"Come on. I'll help you up to bed. You’re worse off than I am."
"But why? I made the same drink for both of us.”
“I have about forty pounds on you."
"Forty pounds of super-sexy muscles." To my astonishment, she came closer and put her hand on my right arm, squeezing. "Yeah. It's just as hard as I imagined."
I groaned at her touch.
She looked up at me and immediately dropped her hand. "I can't believe I did that."
"I’ll give you a pass since you’re so drunk. Now come on, off to bed with you." With one hand on her shoulder, I turned her around and put my other hand on her waist, guiding her.
"Ooh, bossy Sam is sexy."
"Woman, stop drunk flirting with me. I'm hanging on by a thread as it is," I teasingly said, even though it was the truth.
She hiccupped. "Great. Now I'm embarrassing myself. This isn't fair. You drank the same thing, and there's still nothing embarrassing about you."
I carefully helped her up the stairs to her bedroom so both of us wouldn't tumble back down. She might be further gone than I was but not by much.
From behind her, I brought my lips to her ear. "So, want to know something that's super embarrassing?"
"Yes, please. Even the scales.”
"I've been hard for you this entire evening, ever since I came in and saw you dancing. It's subsided in the meantime, but now it's back in force since our conversation at the counter."
I felt her knees buckle, and then she pressed her thighs together.
Realization hit me. My words made her wet. She was driving me insane.
"Sam, it's all or nothing with you, huh?"
"Yes," I agreed.
Letting go of her, I pulled back her covers. She sat down on the bed and said, "Okay, I'm good now. Thanks very much. You can go, and I'll take off my clothes. I can do that on my own."
"No worries. I wasn't going to offer any help," I said, knowing I couldn’t damn well handle that.
I walked to the door with determined strides. When I was in the doorway, she said, "Sam, can we please not talk about what we talked about tonight tomorrow?"
I turned around. "That only half made sense, but I got the message."
"Thank you." She sounded genuinely relieved.
"Good night, Avery."
As I headed to my room, I knew I wasn’t going to fall asleep any time soon. I needed a cold shower first.