So far, an alarming number of things had not gone according to plan. Rain, I could deal with. But seeing Sam shirtless, not wanting to move because our son’s cherubic face was pressed up against his bare chest? My insides were wobbling dangerously. That, on top of wearing his sweatshirt—which was so soft and fuzzy and worst of all, smelledso good? I was not doing well.
“You might as well eat, since I’ve got him,” Sam said.
I nodded, feeling suddenly clueless. Like I had to be reminded how to function. I reached down under the stroller, pulling out the takeout bag.
Sam reclined as best he could against the hard back of the wooden bench. “They’re both club sandwiches. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. Best in town.” I felt immediately ridiculous for saying that, but that’s what was posted on the wall down at Betsey’s. It wasn’t a lie. The sandwiches were truly delicious.
Sam gave a little laugh and said, “Reminds me of this empanada shop I went to in this tiny town in Guatemala. It had a huge sign out front that said ‘best empanadas in town’.”
“Were they?”
“No. They were horrific. They tasted like gristle wrapped in wet paper. But that place was the only restaurant in town.”
I laughed, finally beginning to relax again. “So technically, it was true.”
“Exactly. When the options are limited it’s easy to be number one.” Sam shifted, holding Henry’s back gently as he did. “Same reason I go to the library at toddler story time. I can read way better than all those guys.”
I laughed once more. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Sam was so good at putting me at ease. The only problem was the more at ease I got, the more I liked him. And liking him made everything harder and more complicated.
I took a bite of the club sandwich, and luckily, for a brief moment all I felt was salty crunchy tangy deliciousness. “So good,” I said.
“Best in town.”
I smiled over my sandwich. But my mind hung on what he’d said.
“So,” I swallowed. “Is that where you were last? Guatemala?”
He still hadn’t told me what happened to him.
Sam shook his head. “Australia.”
I lifted my eyebrows.
“Have you ever been?”
“The farthest from home I’ve been is Miami for a conference a few years ago. And Canada. And here.”
“You were born in California, right?”
By the way he’d carefully stick-handled things back to me, I knew he wasn’t going to talk about this right now. I let the disappointment wash away. I’d discovered one more detail. Australia.
I swallowed my sandwich. “Yep. Sacramento. My brother still lives there.”
“Is he still an asshole?”
I forgot I’d told him about Anthony. How had that even come up back then? “Yeah. I assume. We haven’t talked in a few years.” I hadn’t even told him about Henry, though I knew he knew because of Mom.
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
The last thing I wanted to talk about was my asshole brother. But then I reconsidered. Maybe if I did, Sam would feel more comfortable opening up to me. It worked when I told him about Ron—he looked like he’d really gotten why I wouldn’t get into another relationship. Unlike my friends, who kept poking at that dead bear.
I cleared my throat and lowered my sandwich to my lap, thinking of my brother. “It does suck. I’ve worked hard to make sure that never happens with my kids. It’s the one thing I’m pretty happy with right now. That Tommy loves Henry so much.”
