I took a breath. Then I told her everything.
CHAPTER 6
A Proper Meeting
ELLIE
“You’re a warrior,” Kit said, sipping on an icy drink from our favorite booth at the farmer’s market, a health-juice place run by these silver-haired hippies who smelled like patchouli oil and always incorrectly guessed every customer’s star sign as they bled them dry.
Kit and I had both gotten the juice of the day after trying the sample; it was lime, carrot, and ginger, with some kind of herbs mixed in. Her boyfriend Chip had gagged when he’d tried Kit’s, opting for an organic cola instead. I took a sip of mine, but my straw slurped loudly on the dregs and all I got was ice water. I was nervous. It was almost time to meet Sam, and I’d downed the whole thing like it was whiskey.
I shoved the empty container into the cupholder on my stroller. “You’re just saying that because that was the name of the drink.” It was called Vitamin Warrior.
“Okay,” Kit said, “but I mean it.”
My hands were sweaty as I squeezed the empty stroller’s handle. To my surprise, Tommy had wanted to come along this morning, and he was holding his brother. Usually myfifteen-year-old was a bear if he got woken up before noon on the weekend. But he was here, rumpled and scowling, his dark blond hair sticking up at the back like it had when he was little. I’d told Tommy a condensed version of the truth when I’d picked him up after school yesterday, and that Sam would be meeting us at the market. Tommy hadn’t reacted, just looked out the window and then tromped up the stairs into his room as usual. But this morning, he was here. Holding his brother, no less, over by Winona and Mitchell.
“I still can’t believe you just ran into your baby daddy like that,” Chip said, on Kit’s other side.
“Baby daddy? Seriously?” Kit said.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m not sure what else to call him, anyway.”
“He shit his pants too, right? Henry, I mean.” Chip guffawed at his own joke.
I’d never tell Kit, but her boyfriend sometimes annoyed the shit out of me. He loved her and they’d been together since college, but sometimes I wondered who she could be without him.
“Well, yes, Chip, babies shit,” I said, trying and clearly failing to not sound like a bitch. But Kit might want kids one day and I could justseehow useless he’d be. Worse than having no one around, I suspected. Still, I smiled to soften my tone.
He didn’t even notice. Ugh. Kit did though, and she smiled back, her expression looking grateful I was making an effort.
“Do you think there are too many of us?” I asked Kit when Chip drifted to the rest of the group behind us, which also included Conrad and Archie. I hadn’t meant to, but I’d brought an army.
“Is Sam easily intimidated?” Kit asked.
I opened my mouth to tell her I doubted it. I remembered him on the dance floor, everyone wanting to be in hisorbit.
But him somehow only having eyes for me.
Sam was enigmatic. Or at least he had been.
But before I could say anything, I snapped my mouth shut again. Because like we’d conjured him, there he was.
For a moment, I just stared. He hadn’t seen us yet. He sat on a bench across from the fountain we’d arranged to meet at. He was early—we weren’t supposed to meet for another fifteen minutes. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans and the same sneakers he’d had on when I smashed into him the other day. His elbows were resting on his knees, his head tipped down. Even from here I could see his fingers wrapped around themselves, his knuckles white from how tight he was squeezing. He had nice hands, I thought inanely.
Sam looked up as a group of middle-aged women stopped beside him, asking him something. He dipped his hands into his pockets as he smiled at them. It was a polite smile, but it still sent a little arrow of adrenaline straight into my solar plexus. It was only a hint of it, but I remembered that smile. And its effect on me.
“Oh my God, is thathim?” Kit asked, following my gaze.
Sam chose that moment to look over in our direction. When he saw me, he stood up abruptly. That sent another arrow pricking the same spot as the last, upping my nerves. He lifted a hand in greeting.
I brought mine up too, feeling heat crawl over my chest and up my throat. But the women had said something he needed to respond to, and he looked at them again.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s him.”
“Wow. That is not how I pictured him.”
I snapped my gaze to my friend. “What did you picture?”
