25. Things I can’t talk about with Sam
Chapter 25
Things I can’t talk about with Sam
Me: Where are you? Please tell me you’ve left already, the reservation is in twenty minutes.
Sam: Won’t make it. Got stuck in a meeting
I sit on the edge of Sam’s bed, already dressed in a long-sleeved black dress that reaches my knees, but with a slit up to mid-thigh. It’s tight, showing every curve I have, and is another of Sam’s favorites. He bought it for me to wear to his office Christmas party last year. I usually avoid looking too long into mirrors, but after an hour of practicing positive affirmations while peering into the glass, I finally talked myself into wearing it.
I slip my feet out of the four-inch heels and put them back in the closet along with the dress, wipe the makeup from my face, then pull my leggings back on.
The bed, with its mint-green comforter and cotton sheets, calls to me to burrow underneath and sleep my disappointment away, but my stomach also calls for me to eat my feelings. Slipping Sam’s navy sweatshirt over my hair, back in its usual messy bun, I head for the kitchen. But I stop at the sound of the TV in the living room.
Nick has been acting weird since Saturday night. Yesterday, I had looked forward to telling him all about the first day with the new coffee menu, but he didn’t come out of his room all evening. My suspicions that he noticed my strange emotions while we danced grow with every tense moment that we don’t talk. With the possibility that he’s avoiding me, I’m afraid, once again, to go out into public domain and unintentionally disturb him.
I stand in the hallway, wondering if I can sneak into the kitchen, grab food, and hightail it back to Sam’s room without being noticed. Unless I should toughen up and not worry about unnerving him. Or, if I should forget food, ignore my rumbling stomach, and go to bed. However, God decides for me, and His decision is none of the options I considered. As Nick appears in the hallway, he stops in his tracks when he sees me standing there. His eyes fall to Sam’s sweatshirt and his shoulders visibly sag with clear disappointment at running into me.
“Uhh, sorry. I was just coming to get food really quick.”
He studies me before a smirk creeps over his lips. “What did I tell you about apologizing so much?”
Bypassing the weirdness is a great plan, but I’m not sure how it will work long-term. “To not to?”
Laughter bubbles out of his chest. “Yes. To not to.”
But the moment ends. He runs his hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. “It’s your anniversary today, isn’t it? One whole year with Sam?”
I shrug. “Yeah, but it’s just one year of dating. It’s really not a big deal.”
His lips thin into a straight line. “Still weird that you’re spending it alone, though. Where is he?”
I look down at my socks. “Work.”
Out of the top of my eye, I see him nod as he slips his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants.
“Wanna order tacos and talk about the latest news and gossip?” I love that he knows exactly how to cheer me up. I mean, like. I like how he knows me so well. It makes him a great friend. Yeah.
I meet his eyes and a grin takes hold of my lips as I ask what he knows.
“Well, before I get to the juicy stuff, the aviation mechanics school called me yesterday, and we set up an appointment to tour the facility next week and go over tuition and all the boring crap. I asked Uncle Jonah to go with me and he’s excited.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, I just… I don’t know. Callum thinks I should just go for it, but I’m still scared.”
“Well, it’s just a tour for now. You can decide after you see it and have more information.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway, now, for the good part. Remember my Uncle Jonah? Apparently, he and my mom have been together for years and just didn’t tell me.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. He’s smiling, but only just hearing that they’ve been together for years doesn’t sound so happy. “Oh?”
“It’s good news,” he clarifies, noticing my unsure expression. “I kept trying to convince Mom to get back out there and date. For years. And I’ve always thought of Uncle Jonah as my dad. Now, if he and Mom end up married, he will be.” He scrunches up his face. “I guess I should stop calling him uncle , huh?”
I laugh. “Probably.”
Standing in the hallway, both of us leaning against the wall, I listen to him explain how he found out. He talks about his mother some more, and Jonah, but his face falls as he confides in me the self-hatred he feels for being the cause of their sneaking around.
And the desire to go to him, to pull him into my embrace, is almost stronger than I am.
“Nick, you know it isn’t your fault. You have no reason to feel any guilt about it. They’re both grown-ups and they both made their choices.”
“But it was because of me. All of it.” He struggles to retain that unwavering wall of confidence he normally has, but I’m glad he’s opening up and bearing his soul. Especially to me.
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean you had any control over any of it or that you should feel any shame. I’m the master at feeling guilt for things I shouldn’t, so believe me.”
He looks at the floor as I had done earlier, and I step forward to tilt his head up, forcing his eyes to meet mine. But the connection of our skin, my fingers to his jaw, sends a shock through me and I jerk my hand back.
It takes a minute to remember what I had intended to say. “Look, I understand why you feel the way you do, but as an unbiased third party, your mind is lying to you. They hid it because they love you. And because they love each other. Maybe it wasn’t the right decision, but none of us really know the right decision in most situations until it’s too late.”
His eyes dart around my face, and his chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths. But he looks down and takes a step backward, coughing. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course, I am. I’m right about everything.”
He laughs. “Well, that whole statement was wrong, so try again.”
I haven’t filled him in on the phone call with Dad yet, so I jump into it, partly to distract him. As I recount the conversation, he listens intently, the tightness ebbing from his features as he puts aside his concern to pick apart another day.
“We rolled out the new menu yesterday. It’s only the second day, but people seem to like the drinks. I’m hoping it does well enough that we can justify buying an espresso machine.” Honestly, if that’s all that I get out of this deal, I’ll be happy.
“Look at us, huh? Things are falling into place,” he says with an easy grin. “What did Sam say about it?”
I haven’t told Sam about anything, and I won’t until it’s all settled. I plan to tell him after we have a sales report that proves I was right and after I start assistant manager training—if that happens.
Nick must read my face because he says, “You haven’t told him yet? I understand if you haven’t, but don’t you think you should feel comfortable telling your boyfriend, especially after an entire year, about your success? Even if it isn’t completely decided yet?” I don’t answer that either, and he asks, “Have you spoken to Hailey?”
I pull out my phone and click the internet icon. “So, about those tacos you promised me…”
He sighs, but we’re back to normal after more than a week of weirdness between us, and I don’t want it to return. I don’t want our relationship to become strained like it did with Hailey. I like being able to talk to him, about the heavy things, the things I can’t talk about with Sam.
* * *
M y heart races as the mouse hovers over the “submit order” button. I’m only ordering samples, but if I don’t like the taste, I’ll be wasting eighty dollars. I just know there is something here. Maybe not money exactly, but something I could care about. Something to look forward to, a reason to wake up in the morning. If my parents can support Sage in selling homemade crafts online, why couldn’t they support me in selling coffee?
I won’t have to stick to online, either: I could sell coffee to the diner. I could even ask the gas station by Mom’s to carry some bags; they also serve as the grocery store. There are options and growth opportunities, and I couldn’t be more excited.
I close my eyes and click, then peek through to double-check I hit the right button. Once I see the order number, I exhale in relief before printing the receipt. Now, it’s time to work on my application for my business license, and think about possible coffee flavors. I’ve ordered samples of their basic flavors—breakfast blend, dark roast, and a few others. And if I like those, I can work with their experts to create my own, like a raspberry vanilla, or cinnamon mocha.
After I finish my blog to-do list, I move on to social media sites for the diner. Mike tasked me with creating an online presence to help with advertising the new drinks and any other changes. It will be a lot of work keeping up with my own side business and the new socials for the diner, but for the first time, I trust myself to be able to handle it. The doubtful voices that demand to be heard over all else are losing their strength. Still shouting, but harder to understand through the box I’ve packed them in.
Along with the new coffee options, Mike created an online survey for customers to fill out to receive a coupon for their next meal. No one likes surveys, but I can’t help the smug grin I flash Mike anytime a response comes through, because they all say the same thing: the coffee is good but the food sucks. A few responses have said the coffee could be better, with higher quality roasts and more flavors, but that only further proves my point—people want coffee. And investing more in this idea is the right way to go.
However, the only person I have to share this news with is Nick. By the time Sam arrives home each night, he goes straight to bed walking past the plate of food I set aside for him just in case, and is too tired to talk about his day.
I shut my laptop now to go prepare that dinner he’ll ignore when I smell garlic already wafting from the kitchen. Following the scent, I find Nick stirring something in a stainless steel pot.
“Hey, sorry. I was going to cook, but I got sidetracked working on some stuff for the diner.”
He looks up. “It’s not a problem, you know that. I’d just be sitting on the couch anyway.”
Rolling my neck and stretching my back, I tell him about ordering the samples.
“Think you can convince Mike to order coffee from you if you go through with it?”
“I’m going to try. I need to do the math, see if it would be cost-effective first.”
“Still, you’ll have a customer in me and Mom and most likely Tyler and Callum. I’ll work on selling for you to Erin-”
I smile as he lists the names of almost everyone he knows. Even old teammates and people from his job.
The excitement dies when he asks, “Will Sam be home for dinner today?”
“Who knows? I’m just worrying about myself these days. If I see him tonight, great. If not, perhaps tomorrow.”
His gaze lingers for a moment too long before he turns the stove off and dumps pasta into a strainer in the sink.
“Just say it.”
“No. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”
I drop it and get glasses out for water while he spoons pasta onto plates along with ladles of sauce. We eat on the couch watching a baseball game, as we have almost every night. Eating at the table feels too intimate without Sam, just the two of us with only each other’s eyes to look at.