Chapter Ten #3
“He took a course,” Alex admitted, making a face.
“Good. That stuff he was making before was awful.”
“It did serve a purpose,” Alex pointed out.
“Yes, it did,” Sam conceded, blushing. She tried to brush off the memory of some of the situations she had gotten into with Grandpa Jerry’s wine by taking another sip. “I want to do another toast. This time to my mom. I was waiting to see how this strawberry wine situation would shake out.”
Alex laughed, reached out to her wineglass, and tapped Sam’s glass lightly with her own. “To Pamela Martin,” Alex said. “She was a kind and generous soul who raised an amazing daughter.” Alex raised the glass to her lips and took a sip.
Sam took a small sip of her own, wiping fresh tears off her cheeks as she did so.
“To Mom,” she whispered. She looked deeply into her glass, flooded with memories of her mother, until it all became too much to bear.
Trying to shake them away, she tossed back the rest of her glass.
Forgetting—or choosing not to remember—her earlier self-imposed two-drink limit, she held it out for a refill.
Alex tilted her head as if weighing the pros and cons of the situation.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing at all.” She shrugged slightly and reached for the bottle. After refilling Sam’s glass and topping off her own, she gestured to the living room. “Shall we sit?”
“Sure, but isn’t it getting kind of late?” She sat at one end of the couch, and Alex settled into the other. “What about Sophie?”
“Sophie has been in bed for a while.” Alex smiled. “And one of the benefits of living with your parents is that you have built-in babysitters.”
“Smart.” Sam nodded her approval. She took another sip of the wine and turned on the couch until she partially faced Alex.
She took in her profile and was once again struck by how familiar it felt to sit with her.
It was almost as if the last dozen years had never passed, but suddenly, Sam found herself wanting to know what had happened with Alex during that time.
“Can I ask you something?” Sam’s voice was soft, hesitant.
Alex set her wine glass on the table and shifted so she faced Sam more directly. She tucked one knee under her body and stretched her arm out across the back of the couch. “You can always ask me anything,” she said softly. “I mean it.”
Sam settled against the cushions. “I want to know about you,” she admitted. “Tell me about your life.” She took a steadying sip of her wine. “Tell me about Sophie.”
The expression on Alex’s face lit up. “Sophie is…” Sam tracked the movement as she reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Sophie is everything. She insists on climbing every tree in my parents’ yard, even the ones that don’t have many branches.
She’s already an excellent soccer player.
We’ve been doing travel soccer for two years now.
What else?” She tapped her lips thoughtfully.
“She has this wild streak for baking cupcakes at two in the morning.”
Sam laughed. “She sounds amazing.”
“She is.” Alex smiled. “She’s fearless. And I don’t know where she gets her energy.”
“And work?” Sam stretched a leg out on the couch, her foot coming to rest against Alex’s thigh. Neither of them pulled away. “You never became a doctor?”
“Work is…exhausting.” Alex took a slow breath. “But I love it. After nursing school, I wanted a bigger challenge. So, I trained as a CRNA. It’s tough work— twelve-hour shifts in the OR—but it’s so rewarding. I wouldn’t do anything else.”
“You must be great at it,” Sam said. She nudged Alex with her foot. “You always had such a calm presence.”
Alex relaxed into the couch. “Well, you were the opposite of calm,” she teased. “Someone had to balance you out.” She untucked her leg and stretched it out to rest alongside Sam’s.
Sam felt warmth spread through her. All she had to do was move her hand to let it rest on Alex’s leg, and that could change the dynamic between them. She waited, then asked carefully, “Did you ever…” She felt her face heat. “I don’t know…see anyone?”
Alex reached over and picked up her wineglass. She looked down at it, swirling the remaining wine. “I had a couple of casual encounters,” she said. “Coffee dates, a dinner here and there, but nothing serious.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam’s tone was soft. “That must have been hard. Or weird. Or…I don’t know what I would have done in that situation.”
Alex finally looked back over at her. She stretched her arm across the back of the sofa and laid her hand gently on Sam’s.
For a moment, they were frozen, and when Sam didn’t pull away, something like relief flickered in Alex’s eyes.
She seemed to take it as a sign. Her chest rose with a breath that seemed to steady her.
When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft that Sam almost didn’t hear it.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Alex’s eyes searched Sam’s face.
Sam looked at her. A moment passed, and Sam turned to look at Alex’s hand covering her own. She slowly retracted her hand and returned it to her lap. “Get what, Alex?” Sam’s voice caught slightly on the question. “Tell me.”
Alex stared at Sam’s hands, which were now cradled in her lap, then back up into her eyes.
Hurt and longing flickered across her features.
When she spoke, the words were small. “I still cared about you, Sam. I couldn’t even think about anyone else.
I still can’t…” She looked away, cheeks flaming red.
“God, I’m sorry—that’s the wine talking.
” She drained the last of her glass and slammed it on the table, looking anywhere but at Sam.
Sam’s stomach tightened. “Alex—”
Alex cut her off with a short, embarrassed laugh.
She stood abruptly, shoulders rising toward her ears.
“No, you don’t have to say anything,” she said, her voice trembling.
She snagged her glass from the table and headed toward the kitchen.
Sam watched, feeling confused and slightly desperate.
She heard water turn on in the kitchen and something being placed on the drying rack.
A moment later, Alex reappeared in the living room, carrying her bag. “It’s late,” she said quietly. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to,” Sam argued. She placed her glass on the table and rose to her feet She stepped forward. She knew in that moment that she wanted—no, she needed—Alex to stay, to explain what she had just heard.
Alex paused by the front door. She raised one hand to the knob, but kept her back to Sam.
“I’m sorry. I’m not myself tonight. Grandpa Jerry’s wine strikes again.
” She opened her mouth to say something else, but after a moment, she closed it again and drew her lips together.
“Good night, Sam,” she said after a moment.
Sam’s heart clenched. Hesitantly, she took a step closer. Alex shook her head to stop her, meeting Sam’s eyes but smiling sadly.
Sam took another step forward. “Talk to me.”
Alex gave her one last look, pressed the door open, and slipped out into the night.
Sam watched from the window as Alex hurried to her car.
If she looks back at me, it means… She began to whisper under her breath before she realized what she was doing and stopped herself.
It was something she had always done when she and Alex were in high school, before she took the leap and made her feelings known.
If she looks back at me, it means she likes me back, she would whisper after she dropped Alex off or they parted ways in the hallway at school.
She remembered how she felt when Alex finally looked back at her after weeks of saying it to herself.
But this time, Alex did not so much as glance her way. She started the car, put it in gear, and backed out of the driveway quickly. Sam stood watching, following the trail of her taillights down the road. Even after they receded from her view, she didn’t turn away.