Chapter 13
Samantha
With a bag of popcorn in hand, Sam found it easy to avoid holding Josh’s hand. On the Charlevoix Cinema screen, Barefoot in the Park flickered in vintage charm. Jane Fonda laughed while Robert Redford brooded. The whole theater chuckled at all the right moments.
Usually, she loved these retro movie nights.
Tonight the laughter sounded tinny, far away.
Every mouthful of the popcorn felt like cotton in her mouth.
She could barely keep track of what was happening onscreen.
All she could think about was the conversation she’d promised herself she’d have with Josh.
The one she didn’t want. The one she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to have.
When Josh settled his arm around her, her throat tightened. For a second she almost gave in. Almost. But then reality returned and she sat frozen, breathing shallowly in the dark.
“How about going to Marek’s?” Josh asked when they finally walked out.
Immediately two couples stopped to greet him—former patients with appreciative smiles.
Sam stood aside, invisible as always. Everyone in town seemed to know Josh.
Everyone seemed to want a piece of him. How long had she been pretending there was room left for her?
“We can grab a bite to eat,” he said after the couple had walked away.
“Okay. Fine.” The wobble in her voice made him pause.
“Everything okay?” he asked, bending a little to catch her gaze. This was how he probably acted with his patients. But with her, he often missed the subtle things.
“Of course,” she said quickly. Sam didn’t want to be alone with him in his car when she told him. “Right.”
He studied her another beat and then guided Sam toward the car. The night air helped cool the panic brewing inside her. The theater had felt suffocating, but maybe the tightness had been coming from inside her all along.
He opened the SUV door. She slid in, tucking her handbag close, swallowing against the hollow ache that had replaced her appetite hours ago.
Marek’s was half-empty, low lighting pooling over dark tables. Thank goodness she had no memories attached to this place. She didn’t want to ruin someplace that already mattered to her, like the Weathervane. Her family adored that popular place on the channel.
They were seated at a tiny white-linen table in the bar area. Unfortunately, that spot was too close to other patrons. Too exposed. Sam wished they could have sat in the darkest corner possible, where no one would see her dismantle her own heart.
Josh’s eyes kept flicking over her face, his concern deepening. “Everything all right?”
Before she could answer, the waitress appeared with menus. “Sure,” Sam said, forcing a smile. “Just ate a lot of popcorn.”
That seemed to satisfy him. Saying how hungry he was, Josh ordered a burger. Finally she chose the beef and barley soup. Easier than a burger but would she even be able to keep that down?
“They have lobster chowder,” Josh pointed out. “It’s excellent.”
“Not tonight,” she murmured. Josh might even be relieved. How many uncomfortable family gatherings had he endured with her? But maybe he didn’t notice the tension. How many times had she tried to pretend Mia wasn’t glaring at her or that his mother’s polite frostiness wasn’t really interest?
“So what did you think of the movie?” he asked after the waitress left.
“I’ve always liked Jane Fonda and Robert Redford.” In movies, everything always worked out in the end. But in real life? Well, here she was.
Josh sipped his beer, foam clinging briefly to his upper lip. “Mom wants to know if you can come to dinner Sunday.”
Not again. Sam blinked. “And where would that be? Your house or hers?”
His brows drew together. “I’ll have to ask.”
Ask his mother. She felt a swell of emotion so sudden she had to swallow a few times. Peach tea. If she had peach tea, she might get through this. But she only drank that when she was sick with a sore throat.
“So, um, what’s new with your family?” he asked. “You said you had some exciting news.”
Why had she ever mentioned that? Couples were supposed to share things, that’s why. And for months she’d been trying to be the kind of woman who fit into his tidy, busy life. Her talk with Marlowe had made it clear to Sam that her relationship with Josh wasn’t going anywhere.
She took a breath. “It’s about Izzy. My sister wants another baby, and we’ve decided to help her.”
“Help?” His brows shot up. “How?”
Her words coming haltingly, she told him about Izzy’s medical history, the frozen eggs, the possibility of surrogacy. The soup arrived. She barely noticed.
Pouring ketchup on his burger, Josh nodded. “There are clinics for that. Probably Grand Rapids, maybe Traverse City.”
“Yes, I think Izzy is dealing with one of them.” She lifted the spoon, took a sip. Her stomach rebelled.
“But how are you involved?” he asked.
“I volunteered,” she said.
“To do what, take her to the clinic?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I volunteered to be the surrogate.”
Josh stared at her. “Really? Don’t you think you’re a bit old for that?”
His tone wasn’t unkind, but the bluntness stung. Those moments when he treated her like a patient rather than a woman with a heart always hurt. And yet, this would help her with what she had to say.
Sam exhaled. “Is age that big of a factor?”
“Well… generally, yes. And I still don’t understand why you’d want to do this.”
The comment felt like a slap. She’d hoped he’d understand Izzy’s situation the way she’d tried to understand his family. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.
She set the spoon down hard and it clattered against the bowl. “Sorry I brought it up. Anyway, it doesn’t concern you. Josh, we need to talk.”
Even before he set down his burger, Sam could feel the shift in his posture. He was suddenly alert and wary.
“Aren’t we talking now?” he asked.
“No. I mean about us.” She steadied herself. “This isn’t going to work, Josh. I’m sorry.”
His expression drained and he stared at her blankly. “Because I don’t think you should be a surrogate?”
A couple at a nearby table turned their heads. Sam lowered her voice. “No. Because our families aren’t meshing. Not in a way that works.”
“You really mean my family,” he said softly.
“Yes.” Her voice cracked. Her sisters and Aunt Cate adored him, but they also knew he didn’t see what she went through with his mother. Or with Mia. Or how she felt like an intruder in his already full life.
Josh reached for her hand. Sitting back, Sam tucked both hands into her lap.
“We have something special,” he whispered. “Please don’t throw this away.”
“Is it special?” she asked. “I feel like you’re trying to fit me into your already crowded life. If I ever get serious about someone again, I’ll want to build a new life with them.”
“Good luck with that,” he said, clearly aggravated. “Everyone our age has children.”
Did he realize what he’d just said?
“But I don’t. Maybe it would be easier if the children were older,” she whispered. But somehow she doubted it.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been working on this with my mother. She’s trying, Sam. I told her she had to stop mentioning Cynthia all the time. Really.”
“Working on it?” The words gutted her. Sam’s throat closed. Tears burned her eyes. She blinked fast, refusing to cry in public. This was a terrible place to do this. She should have waited. But she might have lost her nerve again.
Josh leaned in. “Relationships at our age take work. Compromise. It’s not simple.”
“You’re right.” She stood, unsteady. “Josh, I’ll always…” But the rest caught in her throat. “I have to leave.”
He shot to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. After tossing some bills on the table next to their uneaten food, he followed her out. “I think I’ll walk home.” And she set out in what she thought was the right direction.
“You can’t walk home,” he said. “I’ll get the car.” Sam stopped and glanced up and down the street. It was cold. How long would the walk be? She turned around and waited for him.
The drive was silent—the kind of heavy silence you feel pressing against your ribs. Her teeth grinding together, Sam was determined not to cry in front of him.
When he pulled up to Sunnycrest, Sam braced herself. He didn’t speak. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
She drew a shaky breath. Those carefree summer days with Josh so long ago flashed through her mind. “Josh, you’ll always have a special place in my heart. Maybe I’ll always love you. The boy you were.” Her voice broke. “But we’re… we’re older now. Our lives are different. This won’t work.”
Pushing the door open, she escaped from the car before she completely unraveled.
The steps seemed steeper than ever. Although she fought the tears, they flooded her vision until she could barely see through the blur.
Down below, she heard him slowly drive away, not fast, not angry, just…
wounded. Maybe. Maybe not. He was probably already adjusting to the change.
And that hurt most of all.