And he knew it would be for the last time.
As soon as Cal stepped inside the cabin, Samantha woke up. Perhaps she heard the wind whipping behind his body as he closed the door.
“I fell asleep,” she muttered, barely opening her eyes. She sat up, leaning against an elbow. The white strap of her nightgown slipped off her shoulder. “What time is it?”
“After ten.” Cal placed his cell phone on the dresser.
“You can have the bed.” She stepped onto the floor.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. Get back under the covers. It’s cold.”
Grabbing her robe, she put it on, tying it securely at the waist. She looked adorable — yawning, sleep in her eyes, wavy hair all over the place.
“I’m sorry about Mom.”
“Don’t be. It’s nothing new.”
“She should never have spoken to you that way. It’s not—”
“It’s not her fault, Cal. It’s okay.”
Cal stared into those muddy brown eyes, inching toward her and the rumpled sheets. Samantha flinched, breaking away constantly from his polarizing gaze.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she choked out, looking paralyzed by his presence — the same way she had been the first time they met.
“You’re so beautiful.” Touching her face with one hand, Cal trailed his other down her arm. When he reached her fingers, he began to rub his nails against her palm.
His hands were cold.
Her face was a flame.
“Why won’t you?”
“Why won’t I what?” he asked, beginning to untie her robe, looking into her eyes, the ones now glossing with tears.
“I’m not enough for you.”
Cal slid the garment off her shoulders, stared at her lips, and pushed the other strap of her gown down.
“I’m not enough for you... Not enough for you to marry ... or have a...”
“Samantha,” he whispered.
“Don’t. Don’t tell me anything.” She shrugged the robe back on and made her way to the door. Upon reaching it, she hesitated.
“Where are you going? You’ll freeze out there in that.”
“I’m freezing in here.” She stepped outside and began to run.
“Samantha!”
Cal darted after her. Always a voracious runner, always competing — for Cal’s attention, his interest, for anything but his apathy, competing and sprinting. And Cal pursued her. This time, to the stern. Until they both came to a stop where he’d stood stargazing.
Breath heavy, bodies cold and heated, they stood inches apart, panting from the chase, exhausted from seven years of running within a perpetual windmill, always running but going nowhere.
Like in a dream.
Staring into Samantha’s eyes, Cal held her face in his palms and kissed her, doing so with such force he feared he might bruise her. Rubbing his cheeks over hers, trailing his lips over her face, then thrusting his tongue into her warm, waiting mouth, Cal spoke the love he never wished to surrender.
“Oh God, Cal,” Samantha cried, returning his kisses with the same intensity, touching him over his clothing. “I want you,” she moaned. “Why do I want you so fucking much?”
After sliding Samantha’s robe off her shoulders, he grabbed her hips, pushed his body against hers, and began to bite her neck, repeatedly, all over, nibbling and kissing while tugging on the elastic of her underwear, pulling the material up and between her butt cheeks. His hands caressed her bare bottom, taking away the chill and the cold, erasing the undeniable pain, all of it, refusing the last seven years of what could never be, immersing himself in what he knew of their love, making sure she felt it. Ready to fuck it all into her or out of her — over the deck, under the stars, beneath the moon — he didn’t even know anymore.
“Not here,” Sam whimpered, kneading her fists against his back like a cat.
Cal slid his mouth to her chest, wetting her nipples through the silk, licking and biting as he gripped her hips tighter and tighter.
“Not here,” she groaned, pushing on his shoulders.
Cal stood tall, lifted and closed her robe, then he took her palm and led her back to their room, remembering the way he’d held her limping away from the race. Except now he was torn and conflicted…
Never wanting a child, not ready to marry her, something always not right, accepting her, it, him, the way they were, accepting the fights, the never enough — ever — anticipating holding her, fucking her, tasting her, anticipating and knowing it would be the last time.
* * *
The cabin door shut.
The moment Cal turned, Samantha was there, in his sight, a few feet from his skin. She lost the robe, pulled the gown over her head, and walked toward him in only her underwear and a lopsided smile.
“I want you so much,” she said, trembling, beginning to unbutton his shirt.
Sam ran her cold hands over Cal’s chest, making his nipples hard, then she pressed her breasts against him while reaching for the button on his pants.
“I love you.” Cal stared at the side of her face, his eyes moving back and forth, his throat closing up.
“Don’t.” She dropped her gaze. “Don’t.”
Placing a couple of fingers on her chin, his mouth near her ear, his voice dripped like honey. “You know I do.”
Cal kissed the few tears parading down Samantha’s cheeks as he stepped out of his things. All his clothes now sat on the floor, bunched near his feet.
“It’s not enough,” Samantha whispered.
“I love you, Sammie,” Cal repeated, this time softly, more insistently, his eyes full of those three damn words, a promise he never believed in — they were full of his never enough.
Cal met Sam’s mouth, swallowing their doubts, devouring the wishing they’d done for what could never be, eradicating it all with his lips and tongue. His kisses grew stronger, more urgent as his lips moved over her neck, her chest, her breasts.
Quiet and shaking, Samantha clung to him. “Don’t make me…” she began, catching her breath. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Standing tall, Cal cradled her face again, and their eyes locked. “No.” He could see the green in there now, surrounding the brown. “No regrets ... not tonight.”
Samantha kissed Cal’s lips tenderly, with love — he could feel that. He could feel her love. In this moment. And he knew it would be for the last time. With her. Like this. Unified. As only they could be.
The moment they climbed into bed, two became one, warm and one, completely warm.
Cal never broke gaze.
Samantha’s molasses eyes filled with the regrets he claimed didn’t exist. Cal couldn’t look away, though. Her eyes were like a mirror. He tried to stuff it away. The regret, the denial, the never enough. Far away. He pushed it away with each thrust inside her warm body, knowing Sam wasn’t the one and loving her anyway.