Sam walked over to the bureau and picked up a photo. It was of her and her mom at Sam’s college graduation. They had their arms wrapped around each other’s backs, and her mother gazed proudlyat her. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered that day when she became the first person in their family to graduate from college. The next photo was of Sam with her mother and grandmother. She ran her finger lightly over each face in the photo, noting their similar features. The final image was Sam as a young girl, sporting a gap-toothed grin. Sam was maybe eight years old in the photo and was missing her top two front teeth. It had been her mother’s favorite picture of Sam. She lovingly wrapped all three frames and placed them in a box she had markedFragile
She moved on to the jewelry box next. Opening it, she saw her mother’s modest collection—her old wedding ring set, a delicate gold chain with a cross pendant, and a pair of diamond earrings Sam had bought her several years ago for Christmas—as well as her grandmother’s wedding bands. She lifted the box insert and came upon several rosaries that had likely belonged to her grandmother. There were also a few more photos, locks of hair from her first haircut, and even a few baby teeth. Sam shook her head at seeing those. Her tears now flowed freely, making slow, silent tracks down her cheeks. She wrapped the entire box in bubble wrap and placed it with the photos. Next were a few small figurines her mom had collected, a silver-handled hairbrush, and a few random perfume bottles. Several bottles of lotion and hair products went into the trash bin.
Sam walked over and sank onto the bed, not ready to sort through the clothes in the dresser or the closet. She picked up the ChapStick from the nightstand and popped it open, bringing it to her nose for a sniff. She smiled and shook her head. Her mother was the only person she knew who actually liked the original version. Sam preferred strawberry, and they had many heated debates about the merits of their chosen versions. She looked around the room and took a deep breath. This was turning out to be much more painful than she thought. She flopped back onto the pillow and took in her mother’s scent. It smelled like warm hugs and home. Sam couldn’t suppress her sobs.
When she awoke, she had no idea how much time had passed. Her eyes felt puffy and swollen, and her throat was raw. She checked her phone for a word from Alex and frowned at the blank screen.She rose to her feet after pushing herself back into a sitting position. She carefully wrapped the blue quilt and placed it in the box with the items from the bureau. After adding the pillow, she taped the box shut and put it in the hallway.
The work went much quicker after that, mainly because Sam’s emotions were spent. She packed the other quilt from the chair, along with a decent-sized selection of her mother’s shirts. Nothing else in the closet or the bureau would have fit her, so it all went into several other boxes labeledDonations. After that, she stripped the bed and put the bedding into a basket for the laundry. When it was clean, that would be donated as well.
Reading had always been a shared passion between her and her mother. Sam remembered lying in bed beside her, reading from the same page, until she was ready for sleep. Sam read any genre, but her mother was partial to mass-market paperbacks, usually romances and thrillers. Throughout high school and college, her mother always handed down books for Sam to read. Sam sank to the floor to sort through the various piles of her mother’s books. It took her a while, but she managed to fill a whole box with novels she was interested in reading. She placed those in the hallway next to the other boxes of items she wanted to keep.
She dusted herself off as she got to her feet. She looked around the room at her work. Her mother’s room was almost empty except for the furniture. When the donation company came later in the week, she’d also have a bunch of that set aside for them. Satisfied with her work, she gently closed the door behind her.
Sam didn’t hear from Alex that day. And she didn’t send any more texts. She didn’t want to press the issue. She decided Alex would reach out when she was ready.
Later that night, she settled onto the couch with the blue quilt, a beer bottle, and one of her mother’s paperback novels. Clearing her mother’s room—and her unplanned grief-filled nap—had taken most of the day, and after that, she was too exhausted to do much more.
The next morning, Sam was loading donation boxes into her rental car when the familiar silver SUV pulled into the driveway. She slammed the trunk shut, grasped the closed lid, and took a few steadying breaths. Then she turned and leaned against the car, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. Alex cut the engine and looked up through the windshield. Sam felt a jolt of electricity as their eyes met. Her mind flashed back to their messy kiss the other night, and heat spread through her body. Alex’s mouth curved into a smile, as if she could read Sam’s thoughts, before she finally stepped out of the car. She walked around and leaned against the hood, mirroring Sam’s defensive stance. Neither spoke, and the silence crackled between them.
Sam was the first to break. She dropped her arms and turned toward the house. “Do you want to come in?” She heard the hope and uncertainty threading through her voice.
Alex nodded and followed her. Sam pushed open the front door and held it for Alex. As she passed, Alex caught her eyes again. Their bodies brushed, and Sam inhaled that distinctly Alex scent. She squeezed her eyes shut, then exhaled slowly as she locked the door.
When she turned around, Alex was already in the kitchen, her hands planted on the island, watching her intently. Sam moved closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t text back,” Alex said. “I was dropping Sophie off with her father.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize he was in town.”
“He’s not. I drove her to DC yesterday.”
Sam stood still, digesting this information. DC was four hours away. Alex had probably spent the entire day on the road, which explained her silence. Sam felt some of her tension fade. “How often does Sophie get to see him?”
“He spends several weeks with her each summer when he’s on leave, along with some holidays. We make it work.” Alex moved around the kitchen island until only a few steps separated them. She leaned her hip against the counter, still watching Sam carefully.
Sam knew she was blushing under the scrutiny, but she couldn’t stop it. The air between them felt charged, but she knew that if anything was going to happen, she needed to let Alex makethe first move. Sam moved to the other side of the counter, trying to create some distance while she gathered her thoughts. “Coffee?” she asked over her shoulder. Her hands shook as she pulled down a mug and filled it.
“No.”
Alex’s blunt response caught Sam off guard. She busied herself fixing her coffee, taking a few small sips to steady herself before turning to face Alex. “Something on your mind, Alex?” Sam wanted to cut to the chase, to get everything out in the open.
Finally, Alex managed to look sheepish. She blushed and bit her lip, glancing down at her hands. “Look.” She turned to face Sam. “I’m sorry about the other night. I was out of line.” She paused and took a breath, ruefully shaking her head. “That’s not how I wanted it to happen.”
Sam’s heart started pounding, her breath quickening. Her entire body felt warm, and she wondered if her cheeks revealed her feelings. The air between them crackled with electricity. “Wanted what to happen?”
Alex moved around the counter until she was standing in front of Sam. “The other night…” Alex’s voice was quietly firm. “You stopped because you said that if this were to happen, you didn’t want anything between us.” Alex’s eyes bored into hers. Seeming to gain confidence, she stepped even closer until they were just a hair’s breadth from touching. Alex looked from her face down to the mere inches separating them. She gestured at the small space between their bodies. “It seems to me like there’s very little between us now.” Her voice was low and husky, her eyes dark and intense.
Sam couldn’t breathe. She forced an audible gulp of air and looked down. “No, there isn’t,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alex reached out and gently traced her hand along the length of Sam’s arm and up her shoulder. Her fingertips trembled as they brushed Sam’s cheek. Goose bumps rose along the path she had touched. Sam’s mouth went dry, and she flicked her tongue out to wet her lips. Alex swallowed as her eyes tracked the movement. “You wanted to make sure that we both wanted this.”
She reached out her hand and moved to the back of Sam’s head,gently cradling the nape of her neck. “I’m hoping that what I want is pretty clear.” Alex rose onto her toes and feathered the barest of kisses across Sam’s lips.
Sam felt her body tremble and her knees grow weak. She knew that Alex could feel it, too.
“Tell me, Sam,” Alex murmured, pushing closer. “What is it thatyouwant?”
Sam knew it wasn’t just a question. It was an invitation and an answer all at once. Suddenly, a burning, all-consuming need replaced any lingering fear or doubt she had been feeling. She didn’t stop to rationalize what was happening—she didn’t stop to think at all—she simply closed the distance between them.
Their first kiss was gentle and unsure, barely more than the light brush Alex had given her. Sam pulled back and studied Alex’s face. Alex nodded with a small smile, her eyes fluttering shut. That was all the confirmation Sam needed to propel her forward.
