She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, and finally caught sight of the lone figure standing at the edge of the parking lot. She hesitated for just a moment, remembering Emily’s words. Then she remembered all the time that had passed between them and how she had been so afraid to go after the thing she wanted. She didn’t want to do that anymore.
“Alex.” She recognized the desperation in her voice and hoped that she sounded calmer than she felt. “Can we talk? Please?”
Alex stopped, her shoulders going rigid. She slowly turned but held her hand out and shook her head to keep Sam from coming any closer. Her expression was filled with sadness, and her shoulders slumped, showing either fatigue or defeat. Sam couldn’t tell which.
Sam took the hint and paused a few feet away from her. Sheheld up her hands, mimicking Alex’s stance back at her, trying to show that she wasn’t a threat. They faced each other in silence for several moments. Alex’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and Sam’s heart ached just watching her.
“Sam,” Alex sounded tired. “I’m going home.” She turned back toward the street. “Please,” she whispered. “Just leave me alone.”
Sam took another step closer and reached out to place a hand on Alex’s shoulder. She felt her trembling. Thinking Alex might have started crying, she moved even closer. Her hand slid down to take Alex’s. Her body vibrated just being this close to her, but she knew this wasn’t the time to think about the energy thrumming between them. She needed to make sure that Alex was okay. “Alex, I…”
Her words were cut off when Alex dropped her hand and spun quickly to face her. Before she realized what was happening, Alex had wrapped her hands around Sam’s face and pressed her lips against hers.
It was by no means a pretty kiss—their lips smashed together, and their teeth lightly clashed—it was rough and uncoordinated, and it might have lasted all of about ten seconds. But still, it was Alex. Flooded by memories, Sam was aware of being enveloped by Alex’s spicy citrus scent and the softness of the lips against hers. She took a small step back, not to break the kiss but because the suddenness of it had knocked her back, and she needed to regain her footing.
Alex seemed to interpret her movement as a rejection because suddenly she sprang away, and her hands dropped from holding Sam’s face into fists at her sides. She looked at Sam, and mortification spread over her features. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God, oh my God. What did I do?” Her hands came up to cover her face, and she turned away from Sam, taking a few steps back.
“Alex, wait.” Sam moved up behind her and reached out again, but she dropped her hand before touching her again. “Alex, it’s okay.”
Alex turned around, and even in the low light of the parking lot, Sam could see a blush spread on her cheeks. “No, it’s not. I just…” She shrugged her shoulders. Her mouth opened and closed and then opened again. “I didn’t mean to…”
Sam held up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, Alex.” She took astep closer. “I was just surprised. And it seems like you’ve had just a little bit to drink. And honestly, so have I.
“Look,” she started again. “I need to know that if this happens…” She gestured between them. “I need to know that it’s something we both want. For real. With nothing in between us.”
Sam wanted to say more, but she was stopped by the crunch of tires as a car pulled up beside them. The window rolled down. “Alex Weaver?” the driver asked.
Alex glanced over her shoulder, acknowledging the Lyft driver with a quick wave before turning back and focusing on Sam. She chewed absently at her lower lip while Sam tracked the movement, remembering their feeling from a moment ago.
Finally, Alex nodded just once. Then, without another word, she stepped into the waiting car and disappeared into the night. Sam stood watching the taillights fade away, wondering what in the hell just happened.
Chapter Sixteen
Sam jolted awake on Sunday, hangover free, but her thoughts jumbled as the events of the night before came rushing over her. She reached for her phone and cursed. 7:23 a.m. Waking early was not a habit she wanted to keep. As she lay there, she replayed every moment at the bar in excruciating detail. How Alex had looked when she first walked into the bar, and how she still took Sam’s breath away. Even from several feet away, her faint spicy scent was enough to stop Sam in her tracks, pangs of nostalgia stinging her senses. And then there were the tentative smiles, her blue eyes twinkling like she knew all your secrets. Yes. Alex was a vision, and she was one that Sam would never forget.
Sam might have gone out of her way to avoid Alex directly for reasons that seemed insignificant and silly in the sober light of day, but still, they had circled each other all night. Sam had pretended to focus on darts with the guys while secretly watching Alex’s movements in her peripheral vision. Alex had been leaning against the bar, her blue eyes catching the light whenever she laughed, but she would instantly meet Sam’s gaze whenever she looked her way, almost as if she felt it from across the room. Sam recalled the look of something like longing on Alex’s face. But then, unfortunately, Sam also remembered the mortification on Alex’s face after she had broken off their kiss.
But that kiss…It only lasted a few seconds and was more like the first awkward fumbling kiss of a couple of high school kids,but their bodies remembered each other instantly. Sam’s hands found their way to Alex’s waist, and for those three perfect seconds, everything just made sense. Alex, in her arms, felt so right, like coming home. Now she had no doubt about her feelings for Alex, and she had a pretty good idea of how Alex felt about her. And even though her time in Hicksville was limited, she knew what she had to do with that knowledge.
She reached for her phone and texted Alex.
Wondering how you’re doing this morning. Also, I was wondering if we could talk.
She watched her phone as she waited for the telltale dots to signify that Alex was writing back. But after several minutes, those dots still never appeared.
Sighing in frustration, she threw her phone down and pushed back the covers. She grabbed a tank top and a pair of sweatpants and headed downstairs. Coffee. Sam always needed coffee, but today, that need felt even more urgent. As she sipped, she glanced over the list of things she still had to do for the house. To her delight, she was able to cross a few more items off the list. Brad and Adam were coming over later to finish the roof, so Sam texted Brad to see if they could help her move some of the heavier furniture. She gathered some receipts and paperwork and filed them in the folder she kept for all the house expenses. Thanks to everyone’s help, she was well under the budget she had set for the house. Maybe she could afford to make a few more cosmetic adjustments to help increase the asking price.Not because it would keep me in Hicksville longer or anything like that.
Drumming her fingers on the countertop, Sam tried to decide the best way to spend the rest of her Saturday. She studied the list. She could do more painting, which she dreaded because she wasn’t very good at it. She had a few boxes she could drop off for charity. The garage needed a good cleaning. It was where she and her mother had dumped piles upon piles of things they didn’t know what to do with. That task alone would likely take her several days to finish. Then it hit her. What better way to distract herself from last night than by tackling a task she had been dreading for the pastthree weeks? Maybe it was time for her to clean out her mother’s bedroom.
Sam had avoided doing anything in her mom’s room because she knew it would be one of the more painful things she had to do. Going through the boxes of Christmas ornaments, years of report cards, childhood keepsakes, and family photographs, had been hard enough. Each item brought back waves of memories and more than a few tears. Sam knew that once she finished the room, her mother’s bold and vibrant life and personality would be reduced to just a few small boxes of belongings. She simply couldn’t imagine her mother’s seventy-two years on this earth being distilled down to almost nothing. That, more than anything, tore at her heart.
Feeling like she needed some moral support, Sam tried texting Alex again.
I’m about to tackle my mom’s room and am looking for some moral support. Can I buy you lunch in exchange for your company?
Sam watched and waited for a response, but again none came. She fixed another coffee and wolfed down a quick breakfast. After cleaning the kitchen, she forced herself to stop avoiding the inevitable and headed upstairs.
Sam had been in her mother’s room since she passed away. She just hadn’t moved a single thing or touched any of her mother’s belongings. She pushed open the door and stood in the doorway, surveying the small room that had once been her mother’s sanctuary. Against the wall, a full-sized bed stood, its well-worn, blue-patterned quilt made by her grandmother. Her mother’s essentials rested on the nightstand beside her bed—a coaster for her water glass, a small stack of romance and thriller novels, hand cream, and her mother’s favorite original flavor of ChapStick. In the corner was her mother’s recliner, covered by another faded, handmade quilt. A larger stack of books and crosswords reached from the floor up to the height of the chair’s arm. A small bureau held most of her mother’s clothes. A vanity mirror, a jewelry box, and several framed photos were on top.
