Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
S avannah
When Sam told me Ian would temporarily be working at the bar, I bit my tongue. It isn’t like I hate the man. I don’t. I just have too little in common with him to forge a friendship. He’s single and handsome. I’m a working mom. His life revolves around him, and Gigi is the center of my world. I think Sam’s noted the tension. He waited to tell me till the end of my night. It just so happened I had a few days off and those days away from Mad Dogs gave me some time to think and clear my head. Once you’ve lived through burying someone you love, there isn’t much that’ll rattle you.
“Momma, I help you knock?” Gigi’s question catches me with my knuckles about to kiss the wood of Sam’s front door. I give her a nod of approval as my hand drifts down to my side but, instead of her copying my gingerly touch, she pounds on the wood with a tiny, mallet-like fist.
The door opens, the entrance barely breached, and my daughter summons all her strength to rush through it. Sam jumps back but is completely unfazed. This is a natural occurrence for Gigi. She launches herself at him, throwing her arms around his legs in a vice grip as her head drops back. “I missed you soooo much!”
“I missed you, too, Chickadee!”
My heart melts at the sight of the two of them together. She scrunches her nose and her eyes pinch as she hugs him, while his eyes crinkle at the corners from a face-splitting smile.
Gigi’s face lights up as Sam reaches down, hooks both hands under her arms, and swings her high in the air. He lets go and, once she’s airborne, she squeals. Gravity finds her back in his arms and the result is gut-busting giggles. He repeats the aerobatics a few times then lowers her onto his hip. Now at his eye level, she busses his cheek and makes a disapproving face.
“You’s got sticky whispers.”
“Whiskers, honey,” I softly interject.
“Yeah, Momma.” She rubs her face. “Dem whispers is really pokey.”
Sam’s lip puckers. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t normally shave on the weekend but, for you, I’ll go right in there and take them off.” He lowers her to the floor. “Be right back. You go get something to drink for both of you,” he says to me and then winks at Gigi. “I gotta make myself pretty for my best girl.”
It’s obvious Sam adores her and delights in the simplicity she brings to his life. Everything they do together is an adventure. It’s like, through her eyes, Sam sees everything for the first time.
“Bandit’s lying in the family room,” he calls out. I’m surprised she didn’t mosey in when she heard your voice.”
“Bye, Momma.”
All Sam had to say was Bandit’s name and Gigi tears off. Sam’s old Retriever is half-deaf and doesn’t see as well as she used to, but she has a gentle soul, and Gigi’s love for her surpasses almost everything else. The two of them return together, Bandit’s toenails making clickity-clack sounds on the floor as she walks beside her girl. Gigi hooks her fingers beneath the dog’s frayed, nylon collar, holding onto it like it’s a bridle. I watch as they go over to, what’s affectionately known as “Gigi’s Corner”. Once there, my daughter plops down on her butt, and the dog lowers herself to the floor beside her.
I turn and shout to Sam down the hallway. “I brought wine. I’m putting it in the freezer to chill.”
He pokes his head out of the bathroom doorway, wiping his hands on a fuchsia towel. “I saw it in your hand when you two walked in.”
“I felt like chilling out with a glass or two today. It’s been a long week. Gigi got a booster shot the other day and was up all night complaining about her arm. Then there was laundry to do, and bills to pay … you know what I mean. I just want to relax a little.”
“Then put it in there. Just remember it’s there or you’ll have a wine slushy.”
A mental picture of a huge slushy cup of wine makes an entrance into my thoughts. It’s an idea I’ll bet lots of moms would enjoy. As I close the freezer door, I sense Sam behind me and tip up my chin The mixed scent of spice and wood swirls in the air. I peck a kiss on his freshly shaven face. “You smell nice.”
“Thanks.” We move in opposite directions, him toward the stove and me toward the table and chairs where I pull one out and take a seat.
“What have you been up to?”
His brow quirks. “Savi, it’s only been three days that you ain’t seen me, so not a whole helluva lot.” He takes a wooden spoon from the counter to the pot and stirs the contents. “What about you? Did you enjoy your days off?”
“Kind of,” I shrug. “I caught up on a lot of stuff. Cora took Gigi for a day while I cleaned the house. It looked so nice and orderly until hurricane Gigi ran through. Honestly, I thought you might stop by. I can’t remember when you’ve gone longer than a day or two without seeing your princess.”
“Yeah. I would’ve but I’ve been more busy than usual with Mac quitting on me and interviewing for his replacement.”
“Why did Mac quit? I thought he loved it at Mad Dogs.”
“Yeah, well … let’s just say he loves his fiancé more. She lives over on the East Coast.”
“So, he left for her?”
He nods. “Yup.”
“And Ian’s taking his place?”
“Yep. You’re right on both counts. Mac’s leavin’. Ian’s stayin’. He offered to help. I lucked out. It would’ve been just me and Jeri. That bar gets too crowded for one person to cover a shift. I’m gonna hire two people to take Mac’s place: one bartender and one bar back, and cross-train them both. It’s not a hard job. It shouldn’t take long to bring them up to speed once I pick who I’m going to hire.”
I’m quiet, taking in every word. He eyeballs me, studying my reaction. I catch a curl of his lip before he turns his back to me and tends to his cooking.
“Sam?”
“Yes, Savannah.”
“How long will Ian be working there?”
He turns. “Why don’t you just spit it out, Savi? You don’t like him, and you don’t want him there.”
“I don’t, and I don’t. How long do you plan to keep him there?”
“As long as I need him, I suppose.” He shrugs, matter-of-factly.
“Any idea how long that will be?” Exasperation shades my tone.
“I don’t know yet.” His eyes catch mine. “Maybe long enough to address the elephant in the room.”
My spine stiffens. “And that is?”
Gigi runs into the room, interrupting our conversation. “A ELEPHANT? Where’s a elephant?” Her voice is a high-pitched squeal. She runs over to me bouncing up and down. “Where’s a elephant, Momma? I wanna see. I wanna see!”
“It’s you, Chickadee!” Sam sets the spoon down and hunches over. An observant Gigi watches as he buries his nose into his armpit and sways his arm loosely back and forth to mimic an elephant walk. “C’mon, Gigi. Let’s pretend we’re elephants.”
Gigi squeals again then wiggles out from between my knees, impatient to follow Sam’s lead. The mounting tension I felt a moment before dissipates as I, too, surrender to the silliness and assume the same posture. We drop heavy footsteps, swaying back and forth as the three of us take our best shots at being pachyderms. We keep up the act for several minutes until Sam, feigning exhaustion, falls to the floor. A horrified Gigi runs to him.
“Is you okay?” Gigi grabs his hand and pulls, as I quietly move back into a chair and watch their exchange.
“I’m fine, Chickadee. This is how elephants rest. They fall to their sides.”
“Oh. Okay.” Gigi, now having lost interest turns away and heads toward the family room once again.
“I wish I had her energy.”
“Me, too.” Sam pushes up off the floor and brushes off his pants.
“If I haven’t said so lately, I love you. I’m so glad we have you in our lives.”
“The feelin’s mutual. I love you both like you’re my own.”
I wipe away unexpected tears.
“Are you crying?”
I look away, embarrassed, and dismiss the emotion as fluctuating hormones.
“You’re turning into an old fart, Savi,” he laughs.
“Stop. I can’t help it. I, honestly don’t know where Gigi and I would be without you.” He hands me a napkin.
“I’m gonna make a salad. Stir that sauce for me, will ya? I don’t want it to burn on the bottom of the pot.”
I do as he asks, stealing glimpses of him over my shoulder. He’s texting someone. Sufficiently stirred, I set the utensil down and go back to my seat.
His brow lifts. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”
“What are you doing?”
His forehead wrinkles. “Texting on my phone, nosey. You writin’ a book?”
I dismiss the comment and roll my eyes. He’s impossible.
“Savannah, let’s talk about somethin’ more important, like, what’s up between you and Ian?”
I look away. “There’s nothing between me and Ian.”
His expression turns to stone. “Uh-huh. Right.”
We’re interrupted by a knock on the door and I’m grateful for the interruption. “You expecting somebody?”
“Yep.” A sly smile slides across his lips. “Savi, why don’t you go let Ian in and I’ll set the table.”