Page 6 of Love Everlasting

Just like I bury mine by being quiet and shy.

“Jack told me about Jasmine,” she said gently, heart wincing at the flicker of pain that crossed his features. “And I ache for you, Sam, because I know how hard it can be when a relationship is over.”

His Adam’s apple ducked as he abandoned his fork for his cup, pushing away from the table to sag back in his chair. “It is, as we both obviously know, but it’s far from over for me, I can tell you that,” he said without a trace of a slur, the determination in his eyes obviously sharpening his focus and tongue. “From the moment I laid eyes on her, it’s like the woman possessed my soul, convincing me she was the one.” His mouth banked to the right. “Now I just have to convince her. Again.”

He set his cup down and leaned in with arms on the table like her, a glint of steel glittering in those coffee-brown eyes. “Never been a quitter, Shannon, and I sure don’t intend to start now. She’ll have her fling with this new guy, and I’ll have plenty of my own, but when she’s ready” —he dipped his head in emphasis, penetrating her with a bloodshot stare— “and she will be sooner or later—she’ll be back.” He raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. “And I’ll be ready because it’s the dance that we do, until she finally figures out I’m the guy that she needs.”

“Why?” She reached for a piece of cinnamon toast and nibbled the edge.

He frowned, dark brows digging low. “Why? Why what?”

She sat back to settle in, casually hugging one arm to her waist while she nipped at her toast, curious as to why Jasmine possessed him so. It was a mystery she’d had to solve herself with Eric in order to heal and discover who she really was. And although it was no mystery what Sam or any man saw in Jasmine—she was beautiful, smart, and the wealthy daughter of Sam’s and Jack’s boss—Shannon suspected Sam had never truly scratched the surface of “why.” Never delved into the deep, dark recesses of his soul where the truth lay buried, just waiting to be revealed.

Like mine.

With a pensive crunch of her toast, she chewed slowly. “Why is she ‘the one’ for you and why are you the ‘guy she needs’?” Wrinkling her nose, she took another bite, smile skewed as she studied him. “And why, in the name of love, would you even consider a ‘fling’ with anyone else if Jasmine ‘possesses’ your soul?”

Ruddy color crept into his cheeks as he offered a casual smile, leaning back with a muscled arm over the chair, as if just shooting the breeze. “Gosh, Shan, go for the jugular, why don’t you?” He flaunted his dimples. “Not just sober and sensible, but point blank and precise too.”

Tipping her head, she arched her brows in challenge, far more interested in facts than flirtation. “The jugular veins drain blood from the head to the heart, Dr. Cunningham, as you well know, so the answers to your heartache are most likely in the brain.”

He squinted as if seeing her in a whole new light, lips parted in an open-mouthed smile tinged with annoyance despite a hint of respect. “Well, well, looks like somebody’s been spending her Saturday nights curled up with Jack’s anatomy book instead of the real thing.”

She blinked, completely caught off-guard by his jab. Rising, she reached for his empty plate with a weary expulsion of air. She wasn’t about to be target practice for some clueless player who’d rather coddle his pride than his heart. Nope, it was definitely time to go.

“Wait …” Eyes naked with regret, he gripped her wrist, startling her so much, the plate dropped to the table with a thud. “Don’t leave,” he whispered, a sobriety in his manner she hadn’t thought he possessed. “I’m a horse’s behind, Shannon, and I’m sorry I sniped at you like that.” He gently grazed her wrist with his thumb before letting go, gaze fused to hers as he picked up her plate. “Stay and talk. Please?”

He lumbered up to collect his, too, then dumped them both in the sink. Returning to top off their coffee, he nodded at her empty seat while she stood stock-still. “Come on, sit—please? I’m interested in what you have to say,” he said quietly, his hand shaking as he poured.

Arms barricaded to her chest, she silently studied him through wary eyes, miffed when her heart softened at the tug of his plea.

When she didn’t move, he splayed a hand to his chest with a boyish smile, brown eyes so mesmerizing, they melted her resistance. “If I promise to behave?”

A trace of a smile tugged at her lips as she delivered a mock glare. “Behave? I’m not sure you can even define it, Doc, much less do it, but since patience is a byproduct of sober and sensible, you’re in luck.”

He grinned as he pulled out her chair. “Yes, I am, Miss O’Bryen, and Jack tells me you’re a teacher, so I’m just glad there are no pointers or rulers around. Third grade, I believe?”

Tempering her smile, she slid into her chair with a fold of her hands on the table. “Yes, so as you can see, I’m completely qualified to deal with the likes of you.”

“That appears more than obvious,” he said, plopping back into his seat, the barest hint of mischief peeking through that same adorable hooligan guilt she saw in her eight-year-old male students. “Okay, then.” Huffing out a heavy sigh, he folded his hands on the table like her, his humor slowly dissolving into a quiet vulnerability she suspected few people ever saw. “I can’t exactly explain in concrete terms why Jasmine is the one because it’s more of a rightness I feel when we’re together—like we’re a perfect fit.”

Closing his eyes, he propped elbows to the table to massage his temples with the heels of his hands, face pinched as if striving to make sense of it all. “It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s kind of like slipping on a perfectly tailored Armani suit, you know?” He peered up, face scrunched while he struggled to put his feelings into words. “It’s so smooth and comfortable, you feel like a different person. Like when I slide into my Vette or walk into my townhouse after a long day, there’s this sense of significance, value … order, even, that makes everything right in my world.”

She released a quiet sigh, something cramping in her chest. “Don’t be angry with me, Sam, but those things sound like trappings to me,” she said quietly, “not love.”

He glanced up, mouth tamped in a firm line. “Maybe, but it makes me feel whole, Shannon, worth something and better than I’ve ever felt before.”

“Yes, but for how long?”

He blinked at her, then looked away. “Long enough.”

“Until she’s gone?” she whispered.

She had her answer when his jaw went rigid.

“That’s how it was with me, too,” she said softly, gaze trailing into a faraway stare. “The sun only seemed to shine when I was with him.” A wispy sigh drifted out as she finally looked up, so very grateful to a God Who had opened her eyes. A faint smile lighted upon her lips as peace lighted upon her soul. “Until I learned it rose every single day with or without him. Sometimes blindingly bright, sometimes dark and dim, but always there, rain or shine.” She took a sip of her coffee, flashing a smile to steer the conversation out of the gloom. “So tell me, Dr. Cunningham, just why are you the guy that Jasmine needs?”

He grinned and sat back, hands braced behind his neck in a relaxed pose that displayed an impressive bulge of biceps. “It’s not obvious?”