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Charlotte climbed the steps to Sam’s loft bedroom with a sense of curious trepidation. He’d told her to come up and use the bathtub whenever she wanted, but it still felt as though she were intruding on Sam’s personal territory. Pausing on the top level, she stared around at the room, mouth ajar.
“Well, of course, it’s beautiful up here too,” she muttered. Sam had left the blackout blinds open, and the inlaid ceiling windows allowed the grey winter light to poke dismally at the room. One wall was painted deep hunter green, and a few pieces of rough, rustic wood furniture gave the place a masculine beauty. She knew Sam would have carefully selected each for a reason. A side table she was sure Sawyer had crafted sat beside a perfectly made king-sized bed with a duvet resembling a cloud.
“What man lives like this?’ she asked the empty room. Glancing around once more, she went into the bathroom.
The en-suite boasted a jetted tub. Charlotte stared at it for a full minute before she started pulling off her clothes. Cranking the knobs, she sat at the edge and then braided her hair while the water level climbed.
The heat sank its teeth into her aches and pains, making her flinch and moan until it submerged her. As the knots eased and released their painful grip on her muscles, Charlotte dropped lower and lower in the tub until only her face peeked from the water.
Floating in the comfortable silence, she could nearly forget the press of reality lurking beyond the bathroom walls. She did her best to leave it at the edge of the porcelain and breathed in the steam, the lingering scent of sandalwood, while knot after knot released itself.
It would have been all too easy to stay that way for the rest of the day. But as the water chilled, the world crept back in. Charlotte sighed and sat up. With great deliberation, she closed her eyes and summoned every issue that plagued her one by one to the forefront.
Her father was healing slowly, but he was improving. The doctors were confident his health would continue to improve. There was no saying what the long-term damage would be yet. The doctors said there would be some, but they should be minimal with luck and healing. Memories of that night caused her heart to pound. Her throat thickened, and for a moment, she allowed herself to feel it all before she pushed it away.
Next was Charles. She liked him well enough but couldn’t seem to get anywhere with him. She realized this was the first time she’d thought of him in days. He called once to check up when he received her tearful message upon arrival at the hospital, but she hadn’t heard from him since. Curiously enough, his lack of attention scarcely bothered her, and she understood why. It all boiled down to Sam. Thoughts of Sam tainted her every interaction with Charles.
Sam.
Why had the spark that ignited between them at the wedding come as such an absolute shock to her? Things would never be the same between them, which scared her, but what if that was precisely what she needed to decide?
The water had turned frigid. Charlotte considered adding hot water but then used her toes to pull out the plug with a sigh. Shivering, she wrapped herself in a towel, then used another to wring the water from her braid before wandering out of the bathroom.
One wall of Sam’s room, from the slanting roof to floor was covered with shelving. Most held books and an array of pictures.
At least three shelves held Archie comics. She laughed to herself, pulling one down to run her fingers through the colourful pages. Growing up, Sam always had his face buried in a comic book or novel. On more days than she could count, Charlotte had walked with him after school to pick up the most recent issue of one thing or the other. They’d sit together on a bench at the park near the Stevensons’ house and share a chocolate bar, their heads bent together as they read. She knew Sam had withstood a lot of flak from his friends for hanging out with her. She’d been hardly more than a kid when he was a teen, but they’d formed a strong bond.
Blinking away unexpected tears, she replaced the comic on the shelf. Goosebumps moved over her damp skin. Charlotte turned to retrieve her clothes when a picture caught her eye. It sat at the edge of one of the higher shelves in front of a collection of Tolkien novels in a simple wooden frame. Charlotte lifted it cautiously. It was her and Sam in their wedding finery, Carmen and Sawyer visible in the background, laughing. However, the bride and groom were blurred. The photographer had set Charlotte and Sam in their sights, though neither of them had known. Neither she nor Sam seemed aware the picture was being taken.
They had been dancing, she thought, and just stepped apart. Their bodies were still angled toward each other, her face upturned to Sam’s. Whoever snapped the shot caught their faces at just the right angle, one light head, one dark, tipped close like the two kids who’d sat together in the park. Charlotte’s eyes were almost closed, her smile flying wide with the type of laughter that only flowed when a person felt their most comfortable. Sam’s gaze was on her face, his lips curved upward, displaying his single dimple. It was his eyes, though, the look in them, that caused her breath to catch and her heart to falter. He was drinking her in. Memorizing the story of her at that moment. A look she would expect to see shared between Sawyer and Carmen or Dan and Alice. A gaze so saturated with love and longing it was tangible even through the glossy paper.
Charlotte set the photo down with a thud and stepped backward, struggling to pull her eyes away from it.