Chapter Six
Autumn
I'm halfway through my hair at Sam's bathroom sink when I realize he can't tie a tie.
His third attempt is worse than the first, and he's still working the knot like one more pull might turn it into something respectable.
"Come here."
"I've got it."
I catch his eyes in the mirror. "You really don't."
Sam looks down at the tie hanging crooked from his collar, gives it one more useless adjustment, then finally comes over.
I take the ends from him and start again.
"Hold still."
"I am."
"You're watching me."
"That's not moving."
I look up and find him trying not to smile.
"Do you want to go to this fundraiser looking like somebody's recently divorced uncle?"
"Fuck no."
"Then cooperate."
He lifts his chin while I work the knot into place. It puts his throat directly in front of me, which feels unnecessarily distracting for something I've done a hundred times.
I tighten the knot, smooth his collar and step back enough to check my work.
"There. Now you look like you knew what you were doing."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I turn and gather my hair over one shoulder. "Zip me."
His fingers find the zipper at the bottom of my dress.
What should take two seconds takes considerably longer.
Sam pulls it up slowly, his knuckles brushing the center of my back as he goes. By the time he reaches my ribs, one of my hands is braced against the sink.
"Sam."
"Mm?"
"We are going to a preschool art fundraiser."
"You've mentioned it."
"I just wanted to make sure you remembered."
"I remember."
The zipper reaches the top, but he doesn't step away. His mouth touches the back of my shoulder, then again a little higher.
I meet his eyes in the mirror.
"You're going to make us late."
"We have time."
"We always have time according to you."
"Usually do."
His mouth finds the side of my neck before he finally backs away.
"I'm getting my jacket."
I turn toward the mirror and reach for my second earring.
There's a space beside his sink for my things now.
I don't remember either of us making it. My makeup ends up there when I stay over. My earrings go on the little shelf while I get ready. One of my hair ties is sitting beside his razor, exactly where I left it.
My hand slows around the earring.
For a second, I can see myself standing here tomorrow morning, then doing the same thing next Saturday.
I put on my lipstick before the picture gets any bigger.
Dom rented a limo for everyone. By the time Sam and I get downstairs, Summer and Colt are standing beside it arguing about her book.
Colt has one foot inside the car and the other on the curb when he turns back toward her. "You cannot kill him halfway through the story."
Summer catches the door before it swings toward her. "I wrote him. I can do whatever I want to him."
Bex arrives just in time to hear that and stops beside Summer. "I'm with Colt."
Summer looks at her in disbelief. "You haven't even read it."
"I don't need to." Bex reaches past Colt to toss her purse onto one of the seats. "If he's the hot one, he stays alive."
"You don't know if he's hot."
"He's the hero. I understand genre conventions."
Sam is standing beside me with his hands in his pockets, trying and failing to keep his face neutral.
I bump his arm. "Don't encourage them."
Before he can answer, Dom comes around the back of the limo and takes in the four people blocking the open door.
"Are we planning to get in?"
"Summer's committing fictional murder," I tell him.
Dom opens the door wider. "She can do it in the car."
That finally gets everybody moving.
Summer climbs in beside Colt so she can continue explaining why emotionally destroying her readers is part of the artistic process. Bex takes the seat near them, still arguing that some characters should be protected by popular vote.
Sam sits across from me.
While Colt tries to negotiate a stay of execution for a man who does not exist, I look at the tie I fixed less than an hour ago. It's still perfectly straight.
Sam catches me looking.
He doesn't say anything, but his eyes drop briefly to my dress before coming back to my face.
The conversation keeps rolling around us. Somewhere between Vibes and the school, Sam shifts his leg to make room when Dom reaches for something near the floor, and his knee settles against mine.
He leaves it there.
So do I.
The gym smells like floor polish and vanilla cake.
Someone has strung lights between the basketball hoops, and white-covered tables fill most of the court. A handmade banner hangs near the stage that reads ART IS FOR EVERYBODY in block letters that get progressively smaller toward the end.
We aren't halfway across the gym when Lucia spots us.
"Dom!"
Her voice carries over the music.
She takes off running, skirt flying around her knees, and Dom barely gets his drink out of the way before she launches herself at him. He catches her under the arms and lifts her high enough that she squeals.
"Look at my dress!"
"I'm looking," Dom tells her.
Lucia grabs both sides of the skirt and spreads it as far as she can while dangling in his hands. "Pretty?"
"Very pretty."
That earns him a huge smile. He puts her back on her feet, and Lucia immediately spins to show him the full effect.
She gets halfway around before her shoes slide.
Dom catches her elbow.
"Again," she says.
"Maybe slower."
Marisol reaches us while Lucia is already resetting her feet for another attempt. She gives Dom a look as she smooths the back of her daughter's dress.
"You're encouraging her."
"I told her to slow down."
Marisol looks at Lucia, who is visibly preparing to ignore him, then back at Dom. "You've met her."
His mouth shifts. "Fair."
Lucia grabs Marisol's hand and starts pulling her toward the stage to show her something, leaving the rest of us to find our table.
It is right up front, close enough that the placement had to cost money.
I stop behind one of the chairs and look at Dom. "How much did you spend on this table?"
He's taking off his jacket and doesn't look at me. "Enough."
Marisol, who hasn't been dragged far enough away to miss that, turns back. "Dom."
He pulls out her chair. "It's a fundraiser."
"That still isn't a number."
"No."
She stares at him while Dom calmly pushes the chair in once she sits.
I glance at Sam. "Do all of you avoid questions this way, or was there some kind of class?"
He pulls out the chair beside me. "Annual certification."
I sit, still smiling.
Sam pushes my chair in, then bends until his mouth is close to my ear.
"You look beautiful tonight."
The smile disappears for an entirely different reason.
His voice is low enough that nobody else at the table reacts. There is no joke attached to it and no little grin waiting for me to give him something clever back.
By the time I turn my head, Sam is already straightening.
The chair beside mine is still empty.
I expect him to sit there. His hand is even resting on the back of it.
Then Bex calls his name from farther down the table to ask him something about the drink tickets.
Sam turns toward her. He walks past the empty chair beside me, past the next two, and takes the open seat between Bex and Marisol.
Four seats away.
Summer arrives with Colt and drops into the chair Sam passed.
She follows my eyes down the table before she reaches for her napkin.
"Hi," she says.
I look at her. "Hi."
That's all she gives me, and I'm grateful.
Dinner gets underway around us. The room fills with teachers moving between tables, parents calling to their kids and Lucia making regular visits to report on everything from the raffle prizes to the quality of the cake frosting.
At the other end of our table, Sam falls into the rhythm he always does when there are people around him.
Bex finishes her drink while she's talking to Marisol, and Sam gets up for another one before she notices the glass is empty.
A woman from the school board stops at his chair and tells him about a kiln that died halfway through firing twenty-two student projects.
Sam shifts toward her and listens until she's finished, asking enough questions that she stays another few minutes.
Later, when a chair ends up in the aisle behind Marisol, he moves it before anyone has to squeeze around it.
The board member touches his forearm when she finally leaves. Sam is already reaching for the dessert tray.
I notice anyway.
A few minutes later, Sam looks down the table and catches me watching him. His expression softens immediately, and I smile back because there isn't anything wrong with the way he's treating me.
That is the irritating part.
He isn't ignoring me. When the dessert trays start moving around, he takes the one closest to him and passes it down until it reaches me. Later he catches my eye while Summer is talking and silently mouths, You good?
I nod.
He goes back to his conversation.
He is warm and attentive, exactly the same man who notices when everyone else needs something.
And still four chairs away.
Summer keeps me entertained through most of dinner, and the school treasurer becomes increasingly funny as the night goes on. Lucia appears often enough that I eventually stop pretending she's visiting the whole table and start accepting that she considers my chair her base of operations.
I'm having a good time.
There are stretches when I forget about the empty chair Sam chose not to take.
Then the music starts.
A teacher near the stage announces that the floor is open, and people begin pushing their chairs back. Summer gets pulled into a conversation with another woman before she can move, while Colt disappears toward the bar with Dom.
I look down the table.
Sam is leaning toward Bex while she tells him something.
His eyes find mine anyway.
I hold them and tip my chin toward the growing crowd on the dance floor.
Nothing elaborate. Nothing he could misunderstand.
Come with me.
Bex is still speaking beside him, but Sam isn't looking at her anymore. His hand closes around the edge of the table, and I think he's about to stand.
Then he lets go.