38. Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Maria
T he lingering touch of Sam’s hand on my back as the Uber arrived at Geoffrey’s house made me aware of the choice I had to make about our relationship. No touch from one person should have this kind of effect on me. Especially when I am in a relationship with someone else. Heck, just seeing him made my stomach turn inside out.
Taking in the view of Geoffrey’s cape cod, the house is undeniably stunning. But I know deep down that the man inside isn’t where I belong.
The chemistry and connection between Sam and me is beyond words, and for the first time since I wrote the Dear John letter, the timing feels right for us. How do you describe a love so intense that it consumes everything? Love that surpasses the boundaries of time, space, distance, and broken promises?
It’s simple. You don’t.
Sam and I share a deep bond, our hearts intertwined, unbreakable. No matter how much we try to move on, date other people—even marry other people—somehow, we always find our way back into each other’s lives.
I don’t believe in soul mates. The idea that there is one person meant for us is misguided. To me, there’s nothing more romantic than the knowledge that out of all the people living on this earth, someone has chosen you to be their person .
Love isn’t something out of our control. It’s a choice. And Sam has chosen me.
Now it’s my turn to let him know that I want him. I need him. I love him.
But before anything else, I have to confront Geoffrey and have a tough conversation where I end things between us.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. This is going to be hard because he’s such an extraordinary man. Geoffrey is undeniably gorgeous. A true gentleman, successful, kind-hearted, and brave. He is perfect in every way, but there is one flaw that he can’t shake off.
He isn’t Sam.
Our relationship started slowly, and that was because of me and the pandemic. I had a hard time going the distance with him due to my shattered heart. But eventually, Geoffrey snaked his way into my life, and my feelings grew. We connected and have the best time together.
I’ve tried with him. I did. But I haven’t given my heart to him, not completely. And after tonight, I know why. As long as Sam is close and around, I’ll never be able to love another man.
The way Sam glared at Geoffrey and clenched his fists at the restaurant left no doubt in my mind that he was burning with jealousy. If I’m being completely honest, seeing that reaction brought me satisfaction. Geoffrey saw it also because as soon as we walked away from his and Cara’s table, he began bombarding me with questions.
“Did you know they were going to be here tonight? Is that why you recommended this place?” he asked as he led me away from their table. His question hung in the air, heavy with accusation. From the start, I was honest with Geoffrey about Sam. About my feelings, but not the full story.
I peered at him, a mixture of surprise and indignation crossing my face. “What! Why would I do that?”
“To make him jealous.” As he led us to his car parked on the street, he didn’t bother to glance in my direction. His strides were long, laced with anger, as I had a hard time keeping pace in my heels .
“I haven’t spoken to him in three years,” I said through gritted teeth. “And besides, who’s acting jealous now?”
He was practically running, as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. “Would you slow down!” I yelled.
He shot me a cold, disdainful glare as we reached his car, ignoring my pleas. “Of course, I’m jealous, Maria! You’ve told me all about him and what you guys meant to each other. How could I not be?”
He paused before opening the car door, glancing out into the night air, pondering his next words. He turned as his eyes met mine, and his lips tightened. “I want to be that person for you. I want to be the love of your life.” The car door swung open, and I hesitated before I slid into the seat, letting his revelation wash over me. With his typical swagger and ease, he rounded the front of the car when the guilt hit me.
Geoffrey is a prize. A good, decent, and kind man who deserves to be the love of someone’s life. He should have someone who adores him and makes him the center of their universe.
And that person isn’t me.
From that point on, the situation went downhill fast, beginning with the car not starting. It refused to turn over no matter how many times Geoffrey tried, forcing us to call AAA in frustration and defeat. As we waited, he grew more curious, craving more details about Sam and me.
“You never told me that you guys worked so close. What happened? Why did you transfer?” he inquired.
I fiddled with the fabric of my dress, feeling bad that I never told him that part of the story. “I’m sorry, I should have. We were texting and spending time together. I thought maybe things were going to restart with us, but then he told me that he was going to see Cara exclusively. I walked away after that because I realized he wasn’t ready to forgive me for the past.”
“Well, that man in there”—he jammed his finger toward the restaurant—“hasn’t moved on, that’s for sure. And I won’t compete for your attention, Maria. I won’t. The question is, have you?”
“Have I what?” I knew what he was asking, but I inquired anyway .
“Moved on. From Sam.”
The answer was easy. I haven’t. I never will.
But I didn’t say it.
With that loaded question hanging in the air, we sat in awkward silence as we watched the tow truck pull up, and before we knew it, the car was jacked up, my Uber was on its way, and we were ready to part ways.
He came up next to me and kissed me on the cheek, his hand resting softly on my arm. “I’ll see you at my place.” His lips felt warm on my skin as he pulled away and our eyes met, his forehead forming a wrinkle that wasn't there before. “Let me know what you decide.”
He didn’t have to tell me what he meant because I knew.
As I stood there, waiting for the Uber, my thoughts continued to waver. Geoffrey is a good guy. I should choose him. He told me he loves me, and he’s been patient with me, understanding that I need time to process my own feelings and find the right moment to say “I love you” back. I feel … something for him. It’s close to love but not quite. And honestly, no love will be like Sam’s. The comparison will always exist no matter who I’m with.
And what would the old Maria had done? Well, more than likely, she wouldn’t have put herself first. She would have stayed with Geoffrey out of fear of hurting his feelings. But that isn’t me now. There is no way I am pushing Sam out of my life again because of a lack of self-esteem.
The new Maria is saying yes to her happiness.
While I waited on the steps and contemplated everything, my attention was drawn to Cara sprinting out of the restaurant and jumping into a car that was ready and waiting. Not with Sam. Strange, to say the least. And then, moments later, Sam was at my side. Telling me he was newly single and—in so many words—that he forgives me. And that he’s all in.
I mean, come on. What am I supposed to do with that information?
On top of it all, he grazed his thumb on my lower back, lightly rubbing in small circles. The way he always used to. I was a goner at that point.
Now, I’m sitting in this stuffy Uber that reeks of stale pizza, trying to decide on what to say to Geoffrey .
And Amanda because she is going to be maaaaaad.
No one is team Geoff/Maria (or Geria, our ship name, according to Richelle) more than Amanda. She set us up and says we are endgame. And we could have been.
But not after tonight.
The Uber sits idle in Geoffrey’s driveway as butterflies erupt in my stomach. Getting out of the car, I thank my driver and take a moment to fix my dress and run my fingers through my hair. As I do, the passenger side window goes down. “Ma’am,” his voice echoes through the empty street.
Curious about why the drivers calling me, I twist my body and lean forward to catch a glimpse of his face through the window. I cast a fleeting glance to the backseat, seeing if I missed anything. I bring my eyes back to him. “Did I forget to do something?”
He’s an older gentleman, who looks to be in his mid-sixties, with salt-and-pepper hair and faded tattoos that run up and down each arm. He flashes me a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “No, ma’am. I know it’s none of my business, and I have no clue what that man means to you.” He points at Geoffrey’s front door. I turn, and there he is, standing tall and motionless, waiting for me. His tie and suit jacket are discarded. I bring my focus back to this stranger, curious about where this is going. “But I used to look at my late wife the way that man who put you in the car back at the restaurant looked at you. It’s rare and beautiful. If you’re lucky enough to get it, don’t run away from it.”
His words are like a gut punch. This stranger, who is maybe a little intrusive, understood the situation by watching Sam and me for only a few minutes. Sam and I have been running away from and toward each other long enough. Heck, we have been stuck in this repetitive routine for more than two decades, and it’s starting to wear thin. But now, Sam is running toward me. The question is, am I willing to go all in?
Yes. Yes, I am.
“Have a good night, ma’am.” He tips his trucker hat to me, rolls up his window and drives away .
Now I’m alone, standing at the base of the driveway, staring at a man I am about to hurt. With equal amounts of fear and sadness, I head in Geoffrey’s direction. The new wrinkle on his forehead is back because he knows what’s coming. The clanking of my heels on his driveway, as well as sudden heart palpitations, are only adding to the dread. When I reach the steps, Geoffrey kindly shifts to the right, ensuring there is enough room for both of us on his narrow front porch.
“Hi.” My greeting comes out strangled.
Geoffrey gives me a tight smile and shoves his hands into his pockets. His posture is rigid. “What’s going on Maria? And please, be straight with me.”
I flex my foot, balancing the weight on my left side with my heel, stalling, as I try to come up with the right words. Are there any ‘right words’ to break someone’s heart with?
There aren’t.
Without hesitation, I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “Geoffrey, I’m so sorry. I thought I was over him. I really did. But then I saw him … with her and—”
“You’ll never be over him.” He interrupts, shifting his glance over my shoulder, not wanting to make eye contact.
I nod my head, feeling my hair brush against my cheeks. “You’re right.” A part of my heart will forever belong to Sam.
He finally looks back at me, his eyes full of determination, his voice low-pitched. “Maria, I won’t settle for being someone’s second option. I deserve better than that.” His statement is steady and firm.
And true.
“You're right, you shouldn’t.” My hand stretches out as I take a step toward him, seeking his touch, but he takes a deliberate step backward. I retract my arm, feeling a sense of unease, and immediately grip my clutch, holding it protectively in front of me. “I won’t go into the specifics of my complicated feelings towards Sam, but I want you to know that I care deeply for you.”
“But not enough. ”
“No, I guess not. But you helped me more than you could ever imagine. When I met you, I was so lonely that my life felt almost painful. You helped me to see myself again and desired me in a way no man had in a long time. You brought me back to life again, and for that, I will always be grateful.”
Looking downwards, his eyes scrunch together, like he’s in pain. He probably is. “You brought me back to life also,” he murmurs so softly that I almost miss it.
Gradually, his eyes come up to meet mine, revealing a flicker of longing. “Can I hold you, please? One last time,” he whispers as he leans in closer.
I release the grip on my clutch and open my arms, inviting him in. As his hand wraps around my wrist, Geoffrey effortlessly removes my silver clutch from my grasp and tosses it onto the patio chair. He tugs me closer, his grip tight but gentle. His hand slowly travels up my arm, the touch becoming more tender, as if he’s trying to etch this moment into his memory before it fades away forever. His eyes are intense and trail up my arm along with his touch. The tender feeling of his fingers sliding on my skin stirs something inside of me and when it does, I finally understand what Sam felt for Cara throughout the years. Because I am almost ready to forget my decision and pull him into his house.
We are chest to chest now. The moment our eyes meet, he delicately tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His hand travels to the back of my neck and lingers there, causing goosebumps to explode over my body. I lean into him and inhale his scent as his other arm snakes around my back, his touch searing my skin. As I rest my head on his chest, I wrap my arms around his broad back, and we stand there in our embrace, saying goodbye with unspoken words.
Geoffrey and I discovered something with each other that filled a void we didn’t realize existed. We were both hurting and lonely and helped the other breathe again. We gave each other the same gift.
I will be eternally grateful for that.
With the passing of a few minutes, Geoffrey’s grip relaxes. But before he pulls away completely, his full and soft lips brush lightly with mine. It’s sweet and sad, all in equal measure. He lingers for a moment, savoring our final kiss before breaking the connection and taking in my face, memorizing it. “To remember. ”
He slips away, and my body shivers with a sudden coldness as soon as he steps back. But even though I feel this way when I’m with him, his presence doesn’t match the warmth and familiarity of Sam’s.
“Stay right here,” he says, his voice fading as he turns and grabs the doorknob, the sound of the clicking echoing into the night. “I’ll get my keys and drive you home.”
I nod and watch him disappear inside to grab the keys for his second car. Without realizing it, I had been holding my breath, and as I let it out, a sense of relief washes over me.
After a very tense and quiet ride home, we make it to my condo. Geoffrey squeezes my hand, a silent understanding passes between us, and without another word spoken, I exit the car.
Once I’m inside and settled for the night, I sit down at my desk in my room and fish out a blue-lined piece of paper and a pen. And without a second to spare and a plan in place, I write a letter.