40. Chapter 40
Chapter forty
Their Spot
Maria
G lancing at my phone, I check the time. Again.
9:15
Five minutes later than it was the last time I checked.
He’s probably not coming.
I scan the area for any sign of him. Nothing. My shoulders sink in defeat. Instead, there is only the chatter and laughter of people milling about around me. They are immersed in their own lives, taking selfies of the city behind them, enjoying this windy yet beautiful night. Pittsburgh is glowing and lit up, the fountain is rising high, bright and majestic. The three rivers are in front of me, the water flowing and somewhat rough due to the wind.
And here I stand, waiting anxiously, my stomach twisted in knots.
Getting off work early today, I drove across town, the letter gently resting in my lap on my scrub pants (side note, I wore my pink ones).
I had to wait until today since I had no clue where he lived. Plus, I didn’t want to do this over text. And thanks to his question at the restaurant about him not seeing me in the parking lot anymore, I knew he still worked here. I found his car, parked in its usual spot, a layer of pollen covering the windshield. With a careful glance around, I slipped the envelope under his wiper, ensuring no one was watching, before jumping into my car and driving straight here. That was at four-thirty.
As I wait and the minutes turn into hours—four, to be exact—doubts creep in about whether he was going to show.
I thought about texting him instead of writing a letter. But somehow, this moment felt monumental. A letter would take us back to our roots. Inviting him to our spot, the place where we promised to make huge decisions together, felt right. It would send a message to him that I want back what we had.
Additionally, it was me who caused our relationship to crumble. I wanted to be the one who made the initial move towards building a life together.
To show him that I’m ready for a future. With him.
A thousand and one scenarios are running through my head about why he isn’t here yet. And the one that is the most prominent is … he and Cara got back together.
And if they did, I only have myself to blame. Point each finger at me, please. Twenty-seven years ago, I made the life-shattering decision to walk away. No matter my reasons, I destroyed us. He never would have dated Cara in the first place if it weren’t for me.
But after seeing him at the restaurant and hearing him say he forgives me, one thing became clear as the weight of decades of guilt lifted from my shoulders.
I am officially done. Done with waiting. Done making mistakes. Done feeling lonely without Sam. Done living my life without him.
I want him. I need him. I love him. Nothing matters more.
Once again, I glance at my phone to get the time.
9:31
I let out an audible sigh as I look out at the three rivers, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. Mentally, I resolve to wait until midnight. Then, I will walk away.
Forever.
A sudden burst of commotion catches my attention, prompting me to spin around and see what’s happening. A group of teenagers are carrying on, laughing, jumping on each other’s backs, collectively having a great time. I watch them and smile, reminiscing about the fun Sam and I used to have at that age. Before life veered off course and descended into chaos.
As they begin to make their way toward the fountain, my breath catches, because …
There he is.
Standing just feet from me, a smile playing on his lips as soon as our eyes lock.
His all-consuming stare pierces into my soul, leaving me feeling exposed out here in the open .
As he strides toward me, a huge smile spreads across my face, unable to contain my joy. He steps closer, and his expression turns stoic. There is a fixed look of concentration. He doesn’t look sad, mad, happy, or anything, really. If I had to put a word to it, I would say pensive.
Suddenly, I want to throw up.
Thanks to his words on Saturday, I know what he wants. And hopefully, because of my letter, he knows where I stand.
But for some reason, there is still this lingering fear that creeps up inside me. And that’s because, after years of trying, we could never get this right.
As he inches closer, our shared history swirls in my head.
The Dear John Letter.
The shed.
The park.
Nate and Erica.
Our letters and emails.
The lunch dates.
His car and the watch.
Cara and Geoffrey.
All of it.
But now, right now, for the first time, nothing is standing in our way. There are no manipulative bosses, financial troubles, abusive husbands, troubled wives, past girlfriends in their red bikinis, or buff celebrity look-alike boyfriends.
Now, the possibility of us being together exists .
I’m having a hard time breathing as I shift from one foot to the next, unable to contain my anxiety. With only a few dozen feet separating us, the tears well up in my eyes as the wind whips my hair in my face.
He reaches me, and our eyes meet, intensifying the moment, neither of us saying anything.
Finally, he holds up the letter, the paper crinkling in his hands. “Someone left this on my car today.”
A quiet chuckle slips out of me. “Weird. A letter, huh? Seems kinda old-fashioned.”
He shrugs. “Or romantic.” His lips curve into a smile as a light breeze stirs the air, causing the smell of his cologne to surround me. “Hi.”
“Hey.” My attempt to sound calm and cool fails in my breathy response.
His eyes roam down, then back up my body. When they meet mine again, a smug smile plays on his lips. “Nice scrubs.”
I blush as he takes a step closer, his body filling my space, his voice laced with curiosity. “What happened with Geoffrey?”
“I ended it.” With a contented exhale, he smiles, clearly pleased with my answer.
“And what about Cara?” I counter in return.
As his hand reaches out, his pinkie gently intertwines with mine. “I told you, we broke up.” This one small tiny touch of skin on skin causes a volcano of electricity to erupt throughout my whole body.
I bite the side of my cheek. “For good?” Because, for whatever reason, they kept trying. He obviously cares.
“For good.”
“Thank God.”
He huffs out a laugh as he releases my finger and takes the letter, tucking it into the side pocket of my scrubs. My eyes track the movement as he grabs my wrist that was hanging at my side. He holds it, then tugs gently, coaxing me to step closer to him. Standing chest to chest, the warmth between us intensifies. I’ve never been this short of breath in my life. All I want is for him to grab me and wrap his arms around me. Encase me with his strength and security .
“Are we all in? Together?” His eyes scan mine, eagerness etched on his face as he waits for my answer.
Without hesitation, I give him the easiest answer I have ever given to any question. “Yes. All in.”
With a swift motion, he reaches into the back pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out my watch. When I see it, my breath hitches. After I left it on his front seat, I couldn’t stop wondering whether he would keep it or throw it away. As time passed, I regretted my choice of leaving it behind. For the longest time, it was the only thing I had left of Sam. Once it was gone, it felt like he was gone. I thought it was the end.
He delicately lifts my hand and slides the watch over my fingers and back onto my wrist. The clasp clicks into place. My body reacts instantly as he lifts my wrist, sending a shiver through me. His lips graze the sensitive skin on the inside, his eyes closing as he makes contact. His breath is warm, and I’m pretty sure I’m dying.
He opens his eyes, takes my hand, and rests it on his chest. Over his heart. It’s thumping rapidly under my touch, and I know that whatever I am feeling is mutual. “Just like the inscription says, I’m yours, Maria. I have always been yours. I will always be yours.”
Leaning in close, I whisper my response, my hushed words barely audible against the howling wind. “And you’re mine.”
In this moment, nothing else matters. I hear nothing. Not the commotion surrounding us, not the fountain shooting high, not the wind whipping through the air.
There’s only us.
Standing here, peering into each other’s eyes, it feels like we are back in high school again. Just two kids in love with nothing but a blank slate for a future. Right now, despite the lines around his eyes, the gray in his hair and beard, the creases on his forehead, he’s still Sam.
My Sam.
His hands gently rest on either side of my neck, and even though he is exuding confidence right now, his touch betrays him. They are trembling. I bite my lip, anticipating what I’m hoping is going to happen next. He brushes his thumbs on my already hot skin. My arms wrap around his waist. We move on instinct and forget about our history, the bad choices we made that kept us apart. Everything disappears into the past.
He nuzzles his face against my hair and inhales. As the fine hairs raise on the back of my neck, a shiver runs down my spine and my eyes instinctively close.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, his breath warm against my face. He sweeps my hair over my shoulder, his hand brushing my neck as he does. With a slow and deliberate movement, his plump lips start planting a series of tender kisses on my neck. I lean my head to give him better access. He works his way to my cheek, then the corner of my mouth.
The desire for his kiss consumes me. This building passion is making my breaths come in fast, as if I just ran a marathon. We haven’t felt the touch of each other’s lips for twenty-seven years.
Twenty-seven really, really long years.
He pulls back, and I moan in frustration. “You’re killing me.”
His thumb glides against my parted lips, and now I’m unsteady on my feet as if I’m drunk. “I know.” He lets out an evil laugh. “Call it payback.”
I grin, with his thumb still resting on my lower lip. “I hate you.” He lowers his thumb.
The gentle rise and fall of his chest against mine causes heat to rise in my core. My grip tightens around him, as our heads tilt and lips draw closer with each passing second.
“No, you don’t,” he whispers. Faster than my brain can register what is happening, his lips crash into mine. I melt into his embrace with the surge of his mouth. The bristles of his beard scratch against my soft cheeks as he grips my head firmly.
I’m completely breathless.
His hands leave my neck and slide down the side of my body, gripping my waist. He pulls me closer to him, as if he is a man starved but also trying to keep me from escaping.
I’m not going anywhere .
Our lips fit together in a way our lives never could. With ease. Finally, we are coming together as one with each pass of his lips over mine. Every inch of my body feels like it’s on fire. My arms grip his back tighter because I can’t seem to get close enough to him. Clinging for dear life.
I’m pretty positive this is the kiss to end all kisses. It’s sexy and sweet and rough and loving and toe-curling goodness mixed in one. Twenty-seven years of separation are pouring into this moment. This kiss. This perfect mind-blowing kiss. Our long-awaited dreams are finally coming true, filled with love, passion, hope, and excitement for the future.
The future is ours.
We are all in.
Have we been kissing for five seconds or five hours? No clue. Time is standing still.
Even though we don’t want to part, we do. A soft exhale escapes both of us, our breathing now in sync as we rest our foreheads together, taking in the moment for what it is.
Us coming back together.
Sam’s joyful laugh echoes through the air, filling the surroundings as he pulls me close in a tight embrace. I feel weightless as he effortlessly lifts me off the ground, twirling us around like characters in a movie. My own laughter erupts as he spins me, finally setting me on my feet and sprinkling kisses over my face.
This. Is. Happiness.
“Pinch me. Is this really happening?” he asks rhetorically. But this is the most real my life has felt in a long time. Gently taking hold of both my hands, our fingers intertwining, he keeps his stare fixed on me, intently, the way he always did.
I shake my head. “It feels like a dream.”
Eagerly, he kisses me again, this one softer and more passionate, causing a ripple effect to course through my whole body. I feel it everywhere, and I can’t wait to experience every one of his different kisses again. He pulls back, and his grin borders on evil. He knows what he’s doing to me. “Did that feel like a dream?” He gives me another quick peck .
I try to form words. “Nope. That felt very, very real.” My voice quivers, betraying my emotions. “God, I missed kissing you. Like, really missed kissing you.”
He scans my face, taking in each feature as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Me too.”
No one’s kisses have ever compared to Sam’s. Definitely not Chad’s, not Nate’s, and not even Geoffrey’s, despite how he looked and how I felt about him. Sam is in a class all by himself.
Neither of us have stopped smiling. Joy is radiating off of Sam. His fingertips trace a gentle path down my neck, then my arm, before trailing back up again. All the while, never tearing his eyes from mine.
Before I overthink it, the words spill from my mouth, eager to be heard after being confined for what feels like an eternity. “I love you, Sam. God, I love you so much. I always have.”
He exhales as his eyes close, and I can see the relief that flows through him at my admission. “I love you, too.” The words are spoken with ease. As if they are the easiest eleven letters he has ever strung together. It feels so good to hear him say it . “And we are never letting each other go again,” he continues. “Do you hear me? Never. Again.”
My arms snake around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against my fingertips as he rests his hands on my hips, his touch firm and possessive.
“We are all in, Sam.”
“All in.”
Then he kisses me again. In our spot. A kiss that, for the first time, won’t be the last.
It’s only the beginning.