“I don’t mind, Ellie,” Sam said. His eyes were still on mine. Not pushing, just watching. “It was your rule.”
I thought desperately of how to backtrack. My mind spun, trying to pick from some menu of safe topics. But then, suddenly, I just felt so tired. Because I’d been doing this delicate dance for weeks. Working so hard not to think about the elephant in the room. Pretending that the slightest touch from Sam didn’t switch all my senses into overdrive. I’d been pretending tonight, too, like an actor on stage, with his parents. And now, I’d been pretending even with Sam. Like I hadn’t lost myself a little having him be so vulnerable with me, in a way he hadn’t been with anyone else. I tipped my head back against the wall, wanting badly to bonk it there several times. Instead, I closed my eyes. And saw Sam at the tableoutside, holding our baby. Looking so handsome and sosogood. Keeping his eye on me, even as he took repeated blows. Sam was everything good in this world, while his parents sat there oblivious, only caring about how his love applied to them.
“It’s hard,” I said, my voice cracking slightly.
“What is?” Sam’s voice was soft. It was the same tone he’d used last week, when he’d called me sweetheart.
I wanted to hear it again. I’d pay for it. Kill for it.
Die for it.
He didn’t rush me. Didn’t ask me to keep going. Still, I opened my eyes. And said, “It’s hard trying to forget about you.”
Sam didn’t say anything. He just stared a moment longer, then looked away so he was in profile. His jaw pulsed. He twisted his wrist in his hand. “Yeah.”
Yeah?
Maybe it wasn’t hard for him. Maybe, once again, he was just being nice. But was he? Was I really that wrong?
“I just mean…” I was grasping at straws now. “I feel like I know you now. We talk almost every night. But we talked a lot that night, too. I feel like we compressed a lifetime into that weekend. But…”
“It was different,” Sam said.
I nodded. Itwasdifferent. Because we didn’t have to hold back that weekend. When I talked to him and he said something cute, I could kiss his shoulder. He could tease me, then pounce on me, roll me around in the bed and?—
“I’m fucking this up,” I croaked.
Sam turned abruptly, meeting my eyes. “No, you’re not.”
My pulse quickened. Because his expression was desperate. Like he was balancing on something precarious. “Ellie, please, I need you to be completely honest with me. It doesn’t have to leave this moment. I just… I need to know.”
“What is it?” I whispered, wanting, and very much not wanting to know.
He looked back at his hands, clasping them so tight his knuckles went white. “Do you think about that night, Ellie?”
My heart turned over in my chest.
He doesn’t stay.I reminded myself.Seeing the reason why didn’t change that fact.He can’t commit. He doesn’t want to stay.
But I was lying to myself. Because I saw how tense he was.
I could feel it.
My heart was beating dangerously fast.
I considered lying. But it didn’t seem fair. Not after Sam had just let me in so much.
“Yes,” I said, the word barely a breath. “Yes, Sam, I think about it. Quite a bit. More than I’d like.”Like right now.
Sam had gone perfectly still. I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.
I hesitated. I knew, even before I asked the question, that I was setting myself up for disaster. No matter what his answer would be. I asked it anyway.
“Do you?”
For a moment, nothing changed. The silence was so loud, it hurt my ears.
Then Sam laughed. It was a soft chuckle low in his throat.
