Chapter Twenty-Three
Angel had never meant to say those three powerful words out loud to Samantha four weeks ago.
Actually, she had intended to break it off for good.
But as soon as she had set foot through that door, she had known it was impossible.
She couldn’t possibly say goodbye to Samantha because she was in love with her.
She loved her. To say goodbye would be like saying no thank you to a massive Powerball win. Stupid. Crazy. Completely regrettable.
And that speech from Samantha, although unwarranted, had only cemented her feelings until she was so overcome with them that Angel had accidentally blurted the words out loud.
Samantha had reciprocated. Thankfully. Angel didn’t even want to imagine the awkwardness that could have followed if Samantha had said something along the lines of, ‘I’m not ready for that yet, but thank you.
I appreciate you expressing your feelings,’ like one of her ex-girlfriends had said many years back.
It was just one of the reasons why Angel had walls up around her heart.
But those walls had come crumbling down and it was all thanks to Samantha.
“Where are you going?” asked Catherine as Angel rushed along the hallway with her work bag clutched to her chest and her heart beating fast from not only realizing that she was exceptionally late but from the mad rush to get out of the fire station.
Angel was just about to hit the stairs when she grabbed the railing and swung herself in Catherine’s direction as she was waiting with furrowed brows and a need for an explanation. “I’m late for dinner. The reservation was made fifteen minutes ago.”
“With Samantha?”
“Who else?” smiled Angel and was just about to run down the stairs when she remembered something and held on a little longer. “Oh, and before I forget, although it’s slipped my mind for the last four weeks, I just wanted to say thank you for your advice that day. The story with Bubbles—”
Catherine pulled a face as she interrupted, “Didn’t you go over to break up with Samantha? To let her down gently and properly. Isn’t that what you said?”
“I did.”
“Well, then you didn’t take my advice at all,” stated Catherine matter-of-factly.
“You were actually set on doing the exact opposite of what I told you to do. Remember? I was trying to tell you that you should give Samantha a chance, that just because she did something stupid didn’t mean she wasn’t right for you.
” Catherine shook her head like a disappointed school teacher.
“Sometimes I wonder if you even listen to me.”
Angel laughed. “You’re right. Well, at least it worked out for the best.”
When she reached her car, Angel tossed her bag in the backseat, found some mascara she always kept in the glove box, and applied it to her naked lashes.
She then rummaged around in the center console and found an old lipstick, a lovely blush color, and applied that to her lips.
Smacking her lips together, Angel was satisfied that she looked decent enough for the date and started the engine.
They were meeting at one of the seafood restaurants at the harbor. The name escaped Angel, but she knew the spot and besides, it would be impossible not to see Samantha’s red hair through the window.
A few minutes later, Angel arrived at the harbor. The water was flat and serene. Boats bobbed gently along it while seagulls glided lazily overhead. Angel wondered if seagulls slept at night just like humans did, and then caught herself.
Never before had Angel wondered if seagulls were nocturnal or not, but little thoughts like that had come into her head over the last few weeks.
Her new girlfriend-status had opened up a part of her, unlocked it with a key, and now she could smell the daisies and count the roses and whatever other crap people spouted about love.
It was cheesy and silly. Nevertheless, she opened herself to it because love had a way of making even the most mundane things seem extraordinary.
Samantha waved when Angel walked in through the door.
“And here I was, perfectly on time,” smiled Samantha as she kissed Angel on the lips and sat back down again. “Who knew the roles could reverse so quickly? Was there a fire?”
“No.”
“No fire?” Samantha looked taken aback. Not that Angel could blame her. The only suitable answer for Angel’s tardiness was a fire wreaking havoc somewhere in Huntington Beach. The real answer would probably knock Samantha off her feet.
“I fell asleep,” said Angel ashamedly and lowered herself into the chair. The cushion was soft and the backrest too. “I just passed out on the sofa at the station.”
Samantha gasped, “You did not.”
“I know. It’s very unlike me. But we didn’t get much sleep last night, now did we?
” Angel could clearly remember the loud groans that had emanated from Samantha’s throat in the early hours of the morning, and even when they had tried to sleep after that, it was impossible.
A few minutes later, when an owl had hooted outside and the glare of the full moon had penetrated the curtains, Angel had accidentally slipped beneath the covers and landed with her face between Samantha’s legs.
Samantha laughed. “I guess we didn’t. And I’m hoping we don’t get much sleep tonight, either.”
“You’ll be the death of me.”
With a wink, Samantha picked up the menu and pointed to something Angel couldn’t see. “By the way, I ordered us some starters already. Hope you like calamari.”
“Rings or tentacles?” Angel was starving, yet she was glad for starters and not a main meal.
From experience, she knew that the quicker the food arrived, the quicker they would leave.
Sometimes they even stayed at a restaurant for less than an hour, and not because the conversation was dull and the food bland, but because Angel and Samantha were always eager to get home, to either rip off each other’s clothes or snuggle up on the sofa and watch CSI.
At the moment, they were in the middle of a CSI marathon and had just said goodbye to Grissom and hello to Langston.
Tonight, however, Angel wanted to prolong date night, especially since she had something important to ask, and she wanted it to be romantic.
“So has Matty moved out yet?” asked Angel as she lifted the bottle of white wine from the ice bucket and poured herself a glass before topping up Samantha’s.
They were celebrating. Matty finally moving out of Samantha’s place was definitely worth the celebration.
His roof was fixed a week ago, and the only reason he was prolonging his stay was because of Samantha and her excellent baking skills.
Her house was beginning to smell like a bakery.
Every day Samantha was baking something new for Matty, who had gained a couple of pounds over the last four weeks or so.
His abs were no longer rock hard and distinct, but rather covered by a soft layer of brownies.
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
A waiter arrived with two plates. “Starter calamari rings and a focaccia pizza with feta and garlic. Can I order your mains, or would you like some more time?”
“We’ll just start with these for now,” smiled Angel, and pointed to the food.
She hadn’t yet had a chance to scout the menu and had something dire to discuss before the conversation changed.
The waiter had barely turned away when Angel asked, “Why hasn’t Matty moved out yet?
Wasn’t he supposed to leave this morning? ”
“He’s thinking of doing some renovations. He mentioned something about opening up the kitchen to the living room and adding on a third bedroom at the back.”
“You can’t be serious?” Angel rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think he’s taking advantage of you, Sam?”
“I burned his house down.”
“You scorched his roof,” Angel corrected. “The insurance paid it all out, and it’s already fixed. He’s clearly pushing his luck, Sam. You’ve got to kick him out before he moves in with you permanently.”
“Why don’t you move in with me?” asked Samantha casually as she stabbed a calamari ring with her fork. “It makes sense doesn’t—”
The words had just reached Angel when she laughed out loud—an involuntary reaction to something serious—cutting Samantha off. “You’re joking, right?”
Samantha’s expression dimmed as if a candle had been snuffed out. “Oh, Shit… if you aren’t ready then just ignore what I said. It’s way too soon. Just forget I ever said something—”
“I am ready,” interrupted Angel and reached out, finding Samantha’s hand, and squeezing it so tenderly, she hoped to convey exactly how she felt.
Angel was ready to move in with Samantha, and it wasn’t too soon.
Love wasn’t measured by time but rather by the depth of their connection, and moving in together wasn’t about how long they’ve known each other, but rather about recognizing that some souls were just meant to share the same space.
No matter how soon they found each other.
“It’s just…” her words trailed off. It was easier to show than to explain.
Reaching into her handbag, Angel rummaged through its contents in search of something specific.
A key to her house. When Angel found it, she placed it on the table and slid it across to Samantha.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. I even had this made for you. It’s symbolic, of course.
We can move into my house or yours or get a completely new place. ”
Samantha squealed loudly and excitedly. A few heads turned their way. Not that Angel minded. There were always a few heads turning in their direction whenever Samantha entered the room. “We’re like two identical brains.”
“Not quite,” smiled Angel and reached for her glass of wine. She was ready to cheers. This was something worthy of celebrating. “To us moving in together.”
Samantha clinked her glass against Angel’s. “To us! Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m suddenly not that hungry.”
“Neither am I,” grinned Angel, and ignored her grumbling stomach. She was suddenly ravenous, not for seafood but rather for Samantha. “Should we get out of here?”