26. Chapter 26 #2
With a restrained nod of approval, Ian shakes my hand before turning to catch up to the rest of the West family.
Sam returns to my side, her eyes dancing with delight at having all her family in one place.
In this short moment of privacy between guests arriving, I grip her waist with one hand, pulling her hip against mine as I lean down to briefly kiss her.
She sighs and reaches a hand up to my cheek.
Heaven.
Several hours later, I drive Sam back to my house, where her car is waiting.
I’m kicking myself for asking her to come to my house earlier instead of picking her up from her apartment so she wouldn’t have to drive home so late.
But also, I wouldn’t trade the time we had alone together before the rehearsal for anything in the world.
Sam dissects the evening as I drive, relaying conversations she had with family members about us, swearing they were all positive. By the time I pull the car into the garage, I’m fairly confident that I didn’t burn any West family bridges tonight—at least, if Sam’s not embellishing the truth.
When I turn off the car, Sam’s hand catches my right arm before I can open the door. “Thanks for being a great date tonight. The best date,” she says. But there’s a haunted look in her eyes that doesn’t match her words.
Something’s hidden underneath her statement, and I don’t know the right way to uncover what that is. I don’t know if she wants it uncovered. I lean forward to kiss her gently, buying myself a minute to think.
Unfortunately, the second my lips meet hers, my brain stops processing logical thoughts.
My hand finds its way to Sam’s neck, spreading my fingers across the length of smooth skin there.
But before I get completely lost in her, I remind myself that I have to learn to face uncomfortable emotions with Sam.
Not wanting to alarm her, I gradually scale back our kiss until I break away completely. I leave my hand on the side of her neck, tracing her jaw with my thumb to maintain that point of connection as I say, “Sam? I want to apologize to you about something.”
At the speed of light, her smile crashes to a frown. A crease furrows between her brows. “What? Why? You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m not upset at you about anything. We’re fine, aren’t we?”
The fear kindling behind her eyes spurs me forward. “We are more than fine. But back when I was packing for the All-Stars, you mentioned that the way Veronica and Lynsey are being weird brought up reminders of the way Ryan used you because you were Griffin’s sister.”
Sam recoils, and I start to regret rehashing the conversation.
But deep down, I know I need to. Because I shut down before it was even a conversation the first time.
“I want to apologize because you brought up something that was clearly hard to talk about—emotions that were painful—and I froze up and didn’t know how to respond. ”
“It’s fine, Adrian. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you don’t need to apologize,” Sam says, trying to cut out the legs from my apology before I can finish.
“No, I was wrong because I didn’t support you in that moment the way I want to support you,” I explain.
“I’ll be honest—I don’t really know what I should have done.
I don’t know the right way to respond when you’re feeling hard emotions like that, but I want to learn.
What did you need from me? What would have helped? ”
Sam’s eyes bounce back and forth between mine, panic growing with each movement. “I . . . I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know why I even brought it up—I shouldn’t have. Because now you’re feeling guilty for something that you shouldn’t even be worrying about. I shouldn’t—”
“Cielo,” I say, clamping one hand on her knee.
My use of the nickname she now understands brings a soft sigh to her lips, quieting her panic.
“You did need something from me, and that’s okay.
Maybe it was reassurance, and I’m sorry I didn’t give that to you sooner.
Because I like you for you, and I think that all of your hair customers do too. ”
A smile teases the edges of Sam’s lips. “Hair customers?”
Throwing up my hands, I ask, “Well, what do you call them?”
“Clients,” she says. “But I might switch to hair customers now.”
“My point is,” I emphasize, “that no one would trust you with their fancy hair colors just because you know me. Or even if they did the first time, it’s your talent that’s going to keep them coming back. Be honest—do you even talk about me when you’re cutting someone’s hair?”
Sam gives a weak smile. “I try not to. I mean, sometimes people will ask questions at first, and I’ll give a short answer, but then I turn the conversation around asking about them.
That’s what a hair appointment is supposed to be all about—not only getting pampered, but also having a chance to ramble about your life to a listening ear who isn’t going to judge you. ”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open Instagram and navigate to Sam’s new public account she created for her business.
Clicking to the tab that shows the posts she’s been tagged in, I open one and tap the comments icon.
Turning the phone to her, I say, “Look at these comments. Are any of them talking about how you’re dating me? ”
She scrolls through some of the comments for a moment—how incredible the color looks, how perfect the blending is, who the stylist is. I know because I spent a long time reading through these comments on the flight home yesterday.
Sighing, Sam looks me in the eye. “No. No Ortiz and West 2.0 comments.”
Holding up a finger, I say, “I’d like to state, for the record, that I dislike that label. Because even though you are a huge upgrade in every way compared to Griff, nothing about you is a second version of my connection to him. You and me—we’re our own thing.”
Sam smiles as she hands the phone back to me. “Okay, you’ve made your point. I’ll try not to worry that I’m only a success at the salon because of who I’m dating.”
Taking both of her hands in mine, I emphasize, “Your business is taking off because you are amazing. Because of your talent, your hard work, your way of connecting with people. That’s why you have so many hair customers beating down your door—not me.”
She bursts into a laugh at the repeated use of “hair customers,” then leans over to kiss me soundly. “Thank you for telling me that,” she says when she pulls away. “Thank you for apologizing, even though I still think you did nothing wrong.”
She looks down, and her voice is quiet as she adds, “Thanks for caring enough to talk about it.” I can see the steady inhale in her chest as she seems to debate her next words.
When she continues to hesitate, I gently squeeze her fingers and murmur, “You can say it. Whatever it is you’re thinking about. It’s okay.”
She still doesn’t make eye contact, but she exhales before whispering, “You’re nothing like Ryan.
” It seems like she stated this to herself more than to me, but then she looks up to meet my eyes.
A ghost of a smile passes her lips as she says, “You’re everything, Adrian.
Everything good. So much more than I deserve. ”
Brow furrowed, I shake my head slowly. “That’s not true. Because you deserve everything good, cielo.”
I have to hand it to Sam—this tent might be the coolest thing I’ve seen at a wedding. Because it’s actually cool despite the July heat. The clear-top tent still allows the setting sunlight to illuminate the space, but portable air conditioners keep it from getting too hot.
Strands of lights follow each beam of the tent roof, ready to illuminate the reception as the sun disappears. Clumps of pale purple-and-white flowers hang in clusters from the ceiling, giving the illusion that we’re in a botanical garden instead of under a tent in Griffin’s backyard.