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I know this house will make another family happy, just as it once did for me. But it’s my time to move on and find a new sanctuary, a place I can call home.
After finding her contact details on a scrap piece of paper Sam had shoved under a phone book, I emailed Hayley Regan, eager to get this property on the market as soon as she returns from vacation. In the meantime, just as I told Saxon I would, I’ll pack up my belongings and prepare to move. And that’s why I’m sitting on the kitchen floor, boxing up pots and pans. I gave up on the utensil drawers about an hour ago because if I saw another spork, I’d be tempted to stab myself in the eye with it.
A lot of these are close to brand new as we received a heap of kitchenware for our engagement. We used the staple go-to for everyday cooking. All the other stuff—like this tagine, for instance—was just taking up room.
I’m happy to let Sam pick what he wants, and I’ll take whatever is left. I don’t know where I’m moving to, so less is best. And besides, I think I’d much rather buy everything new.
Sluggish footsteps drag along the hallway, hinting that whoever they belong to is in serious need of coffee. “Oh, god, has it always been this bright?”
Peering up at Sam, I can’t help but laugh. His hair is snarled in every direction, and his eyes are squinted to half-mast. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
He jolts, my voice appearing to startle him from his stupor. “Thanks.” He scans the room, and when he notices me on the floor, he does a double take. Now that he’s semi composed, he takes in his surroundings and whistles. “Wow, how long have I been asleep for?”
The kitchen does look like a tornado has torn through it, so I don’t blame him for thinking he has slept for days. “I thought I’d start packing up in here. I think I overachieved.” Sam laughs, before stepping past me to make a beeline for the coffee.
He pours himself a cup and takes a long sip. I continue packing everything into boxes, aware of Sam watching me closely. “I didn’t realize how hard this was going to be. We have so much stuff. We can split everything in half? Or…”
But he shakes his head, interrupting me. “Take it all. I don’t want it.”
I pause with a saucepan in hand, en route to the box. “No, that’s not fair. This stuff is both of ours.”
Sam exhales, surveying everything sprawled out in front of him. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want it.” Not a hint of animosity exists behind his words, only apathy. I can relate to how he feels.
He pours another cup of coffee, and mastering the cast with a cup in each hand, he settles on the floor beside me, offering me one. I gratefully accept. We comb over everything laid out before us, knowing this is only the start of things to come. “We should go down to the bank and close our joint account.”
He’s right. “Let’s add it to the list.”
Sam reaches for a decorative glass bowl and cocks a brow. “Where did this come from?”
The lavish crystal dish with gold handles serves no purpose other than being a fancy ornament can only have come from one person. “Your mother.”
Sam’s lips part in understanding. “I should have guessed. Well, she can have it back. It’s hideous.” He shudders dramatically, dumping it into a box. It’s nice to have the “old” Sam back.
He helps sort through the mess I’ve made, and it’s so refreshing to work alongside one another without erupting into a screaming match. As I’m wrapping the glass mixing bowls in bubble wrap, Sam clears his throat twice. “Sorry if we kept you up.”
I almost drop the bowl as his statement catches me off guard. It’s one I don’t really want to address or even think about, but I suppose if we’re going to be friends, then topics such as this shouldn’t leave me flustered and wishing I was in another room. “Don’t be silly.” I wave him off, hoping I sound more convincing than I feel. “I didn’t hear a thing.” This is true for the most part as I fell asleep with my iPod blaring my favorite songs.
He nods, liking this topic of discussion as much as I am.
We work in silence, an air of contemplation bouncing between us. Now that he’s voiced it, I decide to ask a niggling question. “Are you and Alicia a thing now?”
Sam stops from packing and turns his cheek to look at me. A bundle of nerves coil within, and I have no idea why. “I don’t know. Apparently, Alicia and I grew close when I had amnesia,” he confesses, watching me closely. This is no surprise. I never had proof, but I had my suspicions. As I’m weighing up how I feel about this revelation, Sam throws another curveball my way. “Would it bother you if we were?”
“No, of course not.” I’m quick to reply, but a small part of me knows that it does. Not the jealous part, though…the part which hoped he’d find someone who deserves him. But that’s not my business. “Whoever you choose is your choice. No judgment.” I raise my hands in surrender because I’m the last person to throw stones.
My reply seems to appease him. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Shoot.” His hesitation leaves me a touch nervous, so I reach for the utensils and begin sorting through them.
“I…holy shit.” I sneak a peek at him, wondering what’s going on. He blows out a deep breath before continuing. “I want to make amends with all the people I’ve hurt.”
“Okay,” I reply, dragging out the O.
“Goes without saying, the first person is you.”
“Sam…”
“No, let me finish.”
