| |
Sam wiped her teary eyes, yelled, "Coming," and headed for the front door. She'd been wallowing in confusion and sadness long enough. As she went down the stairs from her office, she straightened her shoulders. This was her life, and she loved it. She wouldn't long for another.
She figured she'd find the postman on her stoop with a package. Nobody else dropped by in the middle of the day. Good thing, too. She was in no shape for company.
She peeked through the peephole and stepped back as if she'd seen a dragon.
Garrison.
She considered ignoring him, and maybe he read her mind, because he said, "I know you're there, Sam. You just said you were coming."
She went into the small guest bath, checked her face in the mirror. Eyes, red-rimmed. Cheeks, blotchy. Hair, ridiculous. She yanked out the scrunchy that was holding her messy bun in place and finger-combed her long hair. It wasn't better.
The doorbell rang again.
She checked her clothes—black pajama pants and a red T-shirt with the Patriots logo across her chest. Could she look worse? She stepped back to the door. "I'm not dressed."
"You were dressed enough for whoever you thought I'd be."
"Well, I'm not dressed enough for you."
"Hubba hubba."
Fine. He asked for it. She swung the door open. "What do you want?"
He regarded the outfit. "Love the pants, but you have to lose that terrible shirt. I'll get you a Jets one."
"I'll burn it in effigy."
"Giants?"
"I'll douse it with lighter fluid and then burn it in effigy."
"Wow, I'll keep that in mind when Christmas rolls around."
Christmas. Like they'd still be in contact. Which they wouldn't. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
He cleared his throat and pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the back pocket of his shorts. "Right. Well, I'd just like a few moments of your time, ma'am." He consulted the paper, or at least pretended to. "You just escaped a short relationship with Garrison Kopp. He likes to conduct a survey after he gets dumped—an exit interview, if you will—so he can avoid making the same mistakes again. You can imagine how often I have to do these things." He rolled his eyes, and she had to fight a smile. "Do you have time to answer some questions?"
"You haven't been dumped, Garrison—"
"Me?" His hand flew to his chest. "No, not me. You're confused, obviously. I'm his dashingly handsome twin. My brother's the bonehead. Gets dumped all the time. Like daily. Hourly, in fact." He shook his head. "He's quite a disappointment, that one."
"You can tell him he didn't do anything wrong."
Garrison lowered the paper as the amusement slid off his face like a mask. "That can't be true. Can we please talk?"
The part of her that wanted to send him away, to never see him again...that part lost the battle as she left the door open and walked to her living room.
She sat on her favorite chair while he closed the door behind him.
"Have a seat."
Garrison paused and gazed at the room, taking in the kitchen, dining area, and living area that made up most of her downstairs. "It's gorgeous."
She followed his gaze and had to agree. She'd spent a lot of money remodeling. Top of the line appliances, granite countertop. The tile floors that looked like wood were her most recent upgrade, and she loved them. Durable and beautiful. She figured, if she had to spend the rest of her life trapped, she might as well be comfortable in her prison.
He sat across from her on the sofa. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier."
She'd known he would be. Too tired, not thinking straight, worried about his kid. Desperate for help. None of that meant he truly loved her. "It doesn't matter."
"My timing was terrible. And I didn't know I felt it until I said it. But when I said it, I knew it was true."
She let the words process. "You mean when you said you shouldn't have listened to me?"
"What? No. Are you still mad at me for that?"
"I'm not mad. Your son wouldn't have gotten in that accident if you hadn't called the police. That was my fault."
"He ran into a tree because he lied to me, stole my car, got high, and then decided to drive home. That had nothing to do with you."
"But if he hadn't seen the cops—"
"Eric didn't even turn on his lights. He was following at a distance, just wanted to make sure Aiden got home. Aiden was so high I'm amazed he could drive at all."
"Oh."
Garrison heaved out a breath. "My timing...I mean telling you I love you. Today, on the phone. That was stupid, and I'm sorry. And..." He searched her face, met her eyes. What did he see there? What did he see in her that made him believe she was worth his time?
"Obviously, you don't feel the same way about me."
She looked away. "I can't do this."
"Why not?"
She shrugged, looked around her perfectly decorated condo, usually her escape, her solace. But was that really what she wanted? Safety? Silence? Or did she want more?
"Is there someone else?" he asked.
"No. Just you. I mean, not that there's you."
"Okay." The word hung there, inviting her to explain.
She had no idea what to say.
"Okay." This time, the word held resignation. "You're making yourself clear, and I need to take the hint." He stood, headed for the door. "You want us to get out of your cabin?"
She stood and followed but stopped a safe distance away. Too far to reach out, too far to touch. "The cabin is yours for as long as you need it."
"You'll have to let me pay for it, considering..."
She sighed. As if she cared about the money. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable."
He set his hand on her doorknob, and tears prickled behind her eyes.
He turned to face her, studied her. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't seem to force her gaze away. His hand dropped from the doorknob, and he stepped nearer. He seemed to wait for her to react, but she was frozen. Fear? Hope? She didn't know.
He took another step toward her, then another until he was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. He reached out, rested his hands on her hips.
She told herself to back away.
He leaned down, and she looked up. His gaze flicked to her lips, back to her eyes, and he waited. Now was her chance to stop this. To protect herself. To stay safe.
He closed the inches between them and kissed her. Gently, once. Twice. Then longer.
She melted into it, felt warm and safe and protected. Her heart stirred, longed for more of this, more of him.
She stepped away.
"I'm sorry." He took a step back. "No, that's a lie. I'm not even a little sorry." His arms hung at his sides, his eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "I'm not great at this, but you don't seem like the type of girl who kisses every guy who knocks on her door with a fake survey. I think maybe you have some feelings for me, too."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does matter to me, Sam, considering I'm in love with you. Seems the least you could do is explain."
What could she tell him? That among her many fears was falling for someone again? That she was too damaged to ever be worthy of his time or attention?
But the broken look on his face melted her resolve. This man deserved better. He needed to know it. Then he could move on.
"Fine." She resumed her seat and nodded to the sofa across from her. "I'm not sure what you want me to say."
He leaned forward. "Why don't you tell me what you're afraid of?"
That was one of the things she was afraid of—telling him. Telling anybody. "You have more important things to do than listen to my issues."
"I really don't."
"Don't you have a son who needs you?"
"Aiden's with Nate, and I'm sure he's enjoying the break from me as much as I'm enjoying the break from him. They took me to pick up the rental, and then they headed to the lake to get your boat ready. Nate said he checked with you."
"Right." Nate had texted that morning, before her conversation with Garrison.
"I told them if I wasn't there when they got the boat in the water, to take it out, and I'd call when I got there."
"But still, your focus—"
"Sam, I get to have a life, too, you know. My focus has been on Aiden, and it will be again, but right now, I want to focus on you. There's plenty of time for waterskiing."
"I still don't know what you want from me."
"Tell me what you're afraid of."
"Fine. I'm afraid everything. Maybe you should get out your piece of paper, and you can keep a list. I'm afraid of the woods. I'm afraid of the dark. I'm especially afraid of the woods in the dark. I'm afraid of—"
"Let me rephrase." He held up his hand. "Can you tell me what caused all these fears?"
Just the thought of sharing that story had her cheeks filling with fire, her heart filling with shame. She looked at her hands, folded on her lap, wished Garrison would just go away.
But oh, she could still taste that kiss.
"There is a story, then." His voice was gentle.
Oh, yes, there was a story.
"Have you ever told anybody?"
She looked up. "My counselor."
"Pretend I'm him."
"Her."
He spoke in a falsetto. "I could be her."
She smiled, and a tiny portion of the tension fell away.
"Maybe you should take the couch," he said, "and I'll sit in the chair. I'll do my best Freud." Now he did a terrible Austrian accent. "Ven did you first realize you vere in love wit your chihuahua?"
"You're insane."
"Nine, fraulein. You are ze crazy one."
That was too true. "Obviously you've never been in counseling."
His smile faded. "For a little while, with Charlene. Maybe it would have worked if we'd had Freud, but..."
"I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for." He smiled tenderly, earnestly. "I really would love to hear the story, but if you don't want to tell me, I understand."
She didn't want to tell him.
She did want to tell him. Because then he'd understand why this could never happen between them.
Right. That was a colossal lie if she'd ever heard one. She wanted to tell him, and she wanted him to say it was all okay, that he understood, that he could still care for her despite it.
But would he, or would he walk away? And even if he didn't, could she ever fully give her heart to him after what had happened?
She had no idea, but she did know one thing. Keeping it to herself hadn't done her any good. If she was going to lose him, she might as well lose him for the right reasons. She didn't want to let her fears rule her life anymore. As cozy as this condo was, it would never warm her the way Garrison's kiss had.