Samantha
Chapter thirty-five
Bottles of hair products gleam on their new display shelf, and I straighten the rows as Adrian carries over the final box of stuff from my former salon space.
The Crowns had an away series this week, and he arrived back in Kansas City a couple of hours ago.
Still, he insisted on coming over to help me set up my new solo space.
He sets the box on the ground, and I sense him approaching me.
Still, he declares, “I’m coming over to wrap my arms around you and kiss your neck. ”
Smiling as he does exactly that, I tell him, “You didn’t have to announce that. I was already pretty aware of your presence.”
His hands swivel my hips so I’m facing him. His smile holds that mixture of mischief and desire, a smile just for me. He says, “Only ‘pretty aware,’ huh? I’d better make sure you’re fully aware.”
When he kisses me, it’s slow and deep, his fingertips trailing up my spine, making me shiver and melt against him. He takes his time, kissing me so thoroughly that I’m aware of nothing other than his presence.
When Adrian’s lips leave mine and he starts to stand up straight, I have to clasp my hands on his shirt to keep from swaying.
My reaction ignites a new kiss, sparking like dynamite between us.
He presses me against the counter, leaning down so my back arches.
As I bring a hand up to wrap around his neck, my elbow knocks over a bottle of shampoo, and Adrian releases me just in time to catch it before it falls to the ground.
“Look at those reflexes,” I muse. “You’d think you were a professional athlete or something.”
Adrian makes a big show of flexing as he places the bottle on the counter, and I smack his arm. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” he asks, eyes all innocence but smile all mischief.
“The muscles.”
Another flex.
“The kissing.”
Another kiss to my neck.
Shoving him away, I laugh even as my cheeks flush. “Stop all that. You’re supposed to be helping me set up so I’m ready to go tomorrow. And then you’re supposed to be going home to sleep before you pick up your dad from the airport early in the morning.”
“If you could stop being so irresistible, Samantha, maybe I could stay on task a little better,” Adrian teasingly chides, even as he begins handing me the styling tools from the box on the ground.
It’s been two weeks of him calling me Samantha—in addition to cielo—and it has mended something I didn’t even realize was damaged.
Reclaiming my name, admitting that I actually love my full name, has given me a new power over my memories of Charles.
I genuinely don’t mind most people still calling me Sam, but hearing those three syllables pass through Adrian’s lips stirs something in my soul every time.
We had our first session with a counselor who specializes in trauma-informed couples therapy, and Adrian also got a referral from the Crowns’ mental health specialist for a therapist he could see individually.
He had an initial telehealth appointment with her one morning last week before an afternoon game.
He didn’t tell me specifics about the conversation.
But given the fact that we spent that evening dancing at a club downtown for Latin night, I’m assuming he got serious talking about his mom’s death and needed a fun distraction.
I know better than anyone that nothing is going to be magically fixed. Things might feel worse for a while. But seeing Adrian willingly process all this to be with me—truly facing it with me—I would have fallen madly in love with him if I wasn’t completely gone already.
With Adrian’s lips no longer distracting me, I finish arranging the rest of my new work space. Taking a look around, I say, “I still want to add a few more decorations, but this is good for tomorrow.”
“Wait, I need to get something from the truck,” he says. “Can you let me in the front door?”
I follow him, waiting inside the lobby to let him back in. He walks up carrying the most massive arrangement of stargazer lilies yet, struggling to even get them through the door without crushing any petals.
“Adrian! Where am I even going to put these?” I ask with a laugh, holding the door open for him.
He grimaces. “I admit I maybe didn’t think through how much space you would have when I bought these. If you need to take them home to your apartment, you can.”
“No way,” I say, kissing his cheek. “I want to look at these all day tomorrow and brag to every client that my boyfriend is the sweetest man on earth.”
I temporarily move some of my retail products to create room for Adrian to set the flowers down.
“I’m so proud of you for needing your own space already,” he says. “Has everything smoothed over with Lynsey?”
“Yes, thank goodness,” I answer. “I’ve had more new client requests than I can handle right now, and since color is kinda my specialty, I’ve referred women who are only looking for cuts to Lynsey. She’s a layering queen, so I think she’ll be able to handle the rent on the chair solo.”
With a final satisfied look around the space, I tell Adrian we’re good to go and flip off the light. “Time for you to go home and get some sleep.”
“You’re half right,” he says. “It is time for me to go home, but you’re coming with me, so I’m not going to sleep yet.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Why? Adrian, you have to be at the airport at, like, five in the morning. I’ll see you and your dad at the game tomorrow night.”
“Just trust me,” Adrian says, giving me one of his wide, charming grins. Like I can refuse that.
I don’t even try. “Fine. But I’m driving my car over so you can go to sleep when I leave instead of driving me back here.”
“Fino.”
Adrian makes sure I get to my car safely, then hops in his truck to drive the twenty minutes to his house.
When we arrive, he waits for me in the open garage, takes my hand, and leads me straight through the house to the backyard.
We cross the patio to the grass, down the slope of the yard to the edge of his property.
When we reach a large tree, Adrian stops and clicks a button on a cord hanging from the tree.
I gasp when tiny twinkle lights illuminate a wooden platform and ladder built around the tree trunk.
Looking to Adrian, his tender smile brings tears to my eyes. I ask, “When did you do this?”
Holding a hand to his chest with a playful grin, he says, “I did not build this. But the day after we came back from Oklahoma, I hired someone to build this.” His expression turns serious as he takes my hand and tugs me closer.
“I didn’t want you to have to drive all the way to Oklahoma when you need the stars. ”
“I love you,” I whisper before I kiss him, threading my fingers through his curls exactly the way I know he likes. He wraps his arms around me, securing my waist against him exactly the way he knows I like. After losing a minute to Adrian’s kiss, I remember the platform above us.
Climbing up the ladder, I find blankets and throw pillows laid out on the platform. It’s the perfect size for the two of us to sit together, and Adrian clicks off the lights once we’re settled for the full effect of the night sky.
We lean back against our hands, dangling our feet over the edge, but I tuck my shoulder under his arm so I can lean my head against his shoulder as we stare at the sky.
“Thank you for this,” I say, choking up. “For everything.”
“Everything for you, cielo,” Adrian murmurs. “I love you.”
After a magical first day in my new salon space, I head home to change from my all-black outfit into cutoff shorts and a navy Ortiz jersey.
Adrian insisted on getting me every single variation of the Crowns uniforms with his name, and he makes sure I know which one to wear to each game so we’ll coordinate.
His eyes still flare with fire every time he sees me wearing one, and I hope that fire never dies.
Adrian’s dad arrived this morning and has spent the past few hours with Griffin since the team had to report for warm-ups.
Adrian insisted he wanted to be present the first time his dad and I meet each other, so I’m heading to the family area outside the locker room to see them before we watch the game from Griffin’s seats behind home plate.
I didn’t think I would be nervous to meet Adrian’s dad, but as I walk through the long hallways under the stadium, butterflies find their wings in my stomach.
I trust Adrian’s descriptions of his father as a friendly, outgoing man.
But I can never quite ignore that pit in my heart that fears I won’t be loved, won’t be accepted, won’t be enough.
As tension balloons in my chest, I pause in the empty hallway. Placing my hand over my sternum, I firmly tap against it with my other hand, closing my eyes and focusing on breathing. I am worthy of love. I am loved.
When the tension has mostly dissipated, I resume my walk down the hallway, coming into view of the family area.
Griffin stands along with Adrian and his father, who’s dressed in a white Ortiz jersey and royal-blue Crowns hat.
They’re laughing at something Adrian said, and their easy smiles put me at ease.
Before they’ve noticed me, I soak in the sight of Adrian in uniform.
This navy version might be my favorite, especially when they pair the navy shirt with white pants—pants that accentuate Adrian’s strong quads.
Adrian catches my perusal, and his easy smile turns devilish.
He rushes over and swings me off my feet in a hug, whispering, “Like what you see, cielo?” He doesn’t make me answer beyond the blush on my cheeks.
He also doesn’t set my feet back down, essentially carrying me by the waist the final few steps to his dad.
“Papá, esta es mi novia, Samantha,” Adrian says to him, then says to me, “Samantha, meet my dad, Juan Ortiz.”