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Not believing we’re actually having a conversation, I decide to roll with it and hope this is the start of something new. “I do. I love Montana, but—”I still feel guilty for being happy when I know I broke your heart,I silently add.
“I understand,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “There’s no need for you to explain.”
“I’m sorry, Sam.” I suddenly feel so undeserving of his kindness.
“Why are you apologizing?”
I shrug, keeping my eyes focused on the road, too afraid to look anywhere else. “I think I’ll forever be sorry.”
A heavy sigh slips past his lips. “Me too, baby.” I clench the steering wheel, and he hisses, clearly remorseful for the slip. “But I don’t want you to feel guilty for being happy,” he continues quickly, needing to get this off his chest. “I know you. Always putting everyone before yourself. I want you to know that I’m okay.” I’m robbed of speech. “If Saxon is who you want, if he’s the one who makes you happy…then I support you. It’ll always be fucking weird, but I want you in my life. Not only were you my fiancée, but you were my best friend too. And I don’t want to lose that.”
I don’t even know what to think or say. All I know is a weight has lifted off my shoulders. “Me either,” I manage to choke out.
“So let’s start over.” The leather squeaks under him as he turns in his seat to look at me. I still can’t face him. “We’ve both done things we’re sorry for, but let’s leave them in the past. Where they belong.”
Is this a dream? I want to pinch myself just to make sure. “So you fo-forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I know you didn’t do this on purpose. Neither of you did.” His sincerity is my undoing, and it’s not going to be pretty.
“Sam…” I press the back of my hand to my mouth to mute my whimpers. I’ve wanted him to say this for so long, and now that he has, holy shit, there’s about to be ugly tears.
“Hey, hey,” he coos, placing his hand on my thigh. For once, I don’t shy away. “That wasn’t supposed to make you cry.”
Finally sparing him a fleeting glace, I sniff. “They’re happy tears.” Afraid I’ll run off the road, I pull over and the floodgates break open. This is ridiculous, but I’m just so happy, relieved. What Sam just said came from the heart—the heart I once loved.
“Shh, don’t cry.” But the more he comforts me, the harder the tears fall. “Come here.” It’s too late to protest, but even if I had the chance, I wouldn’t move an inch. Sam leans over the middle console and pulls me into his arms.
The feeling is so foreign, and an action which was so innate, now provokes something new, but underneath the bloom is a wisp of familiarity to his touch, his smell, and to my surprise, it feels good.
I’m apprehensive, but if what Sam says is true, then I have to meet him halfway. I do want him in my life. I never thought it was possible, but now that I’m faced with the chance, I want to embrace it with both hands. The small snippet I saw of him in the hospital gives me hope that we can be friends. So I do. Wrapping both arms around him, I nuzzle into his chest, crying months’ worth of tears.
I feel absolved of my sins, and when Sam sighs, pressing his lips to the top of my head, I know he feels it too. I stay cocooned this way for countless moments, cherishing our connection—one I thought was forever lost.
Once my tears finally dispel, Sam loosens his hold. “How about I drive? I promise to stay ten miles under the speed limit.”
I snuffle out a chuckle. “Okay.” Pulling from his embrace, I wipe away my tears, feeling about a thousand pounds lighter.
Sam smiles, and my god, how I’ve missed seeing it. He jumps from the car, reminding me I need to do the same. The moment I open the door, the air licks at my skin, and I inhale, finally able to breathe. Everything appears amplified, electric, like I’m seeing life through different eyes. The sky is a vivid turquoise, and the splashes of rolling green hills come to life. Is this what a second chance feels like?
I have the ride home to ponder on that thought, and for once, I welcome those musings.
I’m sitting in the middle of my room, my old room that is, gathering my belongings. Sam has packed up most of his things and was kind enough to grab a few extra boxes for me too in case I returned. Peering around at the cardboard boxes, I find it hard to believe someone’s life can be packed away so neatly, so orderly. It’s all an illusion, of course, because life isn’t that straightforward.
We don’t fit into a box—well, I don’t anyway—and that’s what I love about being human. We need to make mistakes to learn, and what I’ve learned is that Sam and I can be friends. Our friendship will never fit into a box because, to most, remaining friends with your ex who lied to you the entire time you were together is simply impossible. Most would call me weak, a pushover. But I suppose I’ve embraced the chaos to appease the noise.
I haven’t felt this lucid in months. It’s hard to believe that Sam was the missing piece because, in a way, he started the chain reaction which led to now.
Regardless of the past, Sam shaped me into the person I am today. Yes, he lied, and what he did was inexcusable, but I can get past it if he can do the same. He seemed genuine in the car, and I can’t begin to explain the relief I felt when this saga finally felt like it was coming to an end.
I’m not naïve. Sam is right. This will always be fucking weird, but if we can really do this, if we can co-exist… I don’t even want to think about that possibility because my life would be complete.
I’m desperate to talk to Saxon, but every time I call, it goes to voicemail. I don’t want to dampen my good mood, so I refuse to believe he’s ignoring me. He’s most likely busy at work. Once I’m done tackling this mountain of clothing, I will try him again.
As I’m folding sweaters I didn’t even know I owned, Sam enters the room carrying two cups of coffee. He’s so working that cast. When he sees me buried beneath my clothing, he bursts into a husky chuckle. “Lucky I added a splash of whiskey.” He closes the door and dodges the apparel shrapnel as he passes me the coffee.
The bitter tang is exactly what I need, and I draw the mug to my nose, inhaling deeply. “You always knew how to make the best cup of coffee.”
“Why, thank you.” He lowers himself to the floor, spreading his long legs out in front of him. I’m thankful the vibe between us is still chilled. “I’ll grab a few more boxes for you tomorrow,” he says, sipping his coffee as he peruses my loot.
