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Saxon makes his way through the crowd, which leaves me alone with the partygoers and Sam. He doesn’t seem bothered that Alicia has perched on the lumberjack’s lap, regardless of the fact ample seats are available.
“Do you want to sit?” He gestures with his head toward a table and chairs.
“Sure.” Alicia and her posse don’t seem to notice us go, which leaves Sam and me alone. He pulls the chair out for me—I suppose some old habits die hard.
We’re both at a loss for words, which again reinforces how much we’ve changed. Turning over my shoulder, I look for Saxon, an intrinsic response. But he hasn’t even reached the bar yet as a group of vocal Irish men have made him part of their chorus line. I mask my giggles behind my palm. He cocks an amused eyebrow in response. I’m so going to pay for this when we’re alone. My cheeks heat at the thought.
“So does the house still look like a florist shop?”
His comment has me remembering the endless sunflowers, and I can’t help but smile. “Yes.”
“I never thought Sax was the romantic type, but it seems you bring the good out of everyone, Ms. Tucker.” I shift in my seat. “I am happy for you, Lucy.” He can obviously sense my discomfort.
“Thanks. That means a lot. And me too. You and Alicia seem…” When she hollers like she’s at a pep rally, I settle for, “Like you’re having a load of fun together.” I refuse to acknowledge this as a relationship because I’m pretty sure Alicia is giving the lumberjack a lap dance.
Sam nods, peeling the label from his beer. He fumbles, though, thanks to his arm in plaster. “This damn cast. I can’t wait for it to come off.”
“How long until you can get it removed?”
He shrugs. “I’m not too sure. Soon, I hope. I know you want to move as soon as possible.”
His comment throws me because this time, that is not the case. Yes, I want to move, but due to the fact Saxon and Sam are getting along, I’m happy to stay as long as need be. Also, the longer we stay, the longer I have to figure out where to go.
“I’m in no rush. Besides, Hayley isn’t returning my emails. Maybe we need to look for another realtor?”
Sam nods pensively. “Maybe. I just figured, what with Saxon’s news…”
My interest is piqued, and Sam seems to regret the words the moment he says them. “News?”
“Yeah.”
I may not know this new Sam, but I do know the old Sam and that person has just resurfaced, revealing he knows something I don’t. “What news?”
Sam sips his beer, totally stalling, but he’s not getting off that easy. Just as I’m about to grill him, a song which holds too many memories fills the pub with beautiful stillness. My heart begins to race, and I curse fate and all the angels above.
If it wasn’t torturous enough, tonight’s trip down memory lane decides to up the ante by playing my and Sam’s song. As it happens, that song is a love song. It’s “Nothing Compares to You” by Sinéad O’Connor. It’s the song I lost my virginity to…with Sam, at prom. It was the song we were going to play when we had our first dance together as man and wife.
The awkwardness I’ve felt is nothing compared to now. I wish I could block out the memories of Sam’s fingertips sliding across my skin as he undressed me. Or the gentle press of his lips as he kissed every inch of my flesh. But I can’t. I can smell him. I can taste him. I can feel him entrenched in my very soul.
“Dance with me?” His tender request is reminiscent of prom. The way our bodies moved in sync, on and off the dance floor, assaults me. A gasp leaves me. “Just for a minute. Just this last time.”
This feels so wrong, but a small, treacherous part has me nodding my head. “Okay.” He doesn’t hide his surprise that I’ve agreed.
The moment he slips his hand into mine, tiny butterflies take flight. But I’m quick to douse them because they have no right to be there. A few couples slow dance in the middle of the small dance floor, so I decide to stand by them and blend in. But it’s wishful thinking because to Saxon, I stand out like a sore thumb.
I instantly meet his eyes, a blanket of guilt shrouding me. He turns around, uncaring he’s blocking the pathway to the bar. Patrons move around him, reading his body language for what it is. He’s annoyed, but he stands back and watches us closely. What does he see?
His arms are folded as he watches me like a hawk. Make no mistake, he may be unmoving, but if Sam steps one toe out of line, there will be hell to pay.
Sam gently draws me toward him so we’re a hair’s breadth apart. He places his hand around my middle, then tightens his fingers around mine. Taking a deep breath, I refuse to feed the demons and only focus on the now. We begin to sway to the music.
“We’re forever.”Sam said those words to me after we made love. And at the time, I believed him. But storms don’t last forever—and that’s what Sam and I were. But why do I suddenly feel like I’m moments away from drowning?
Our bodies move in unison, years of knowing the other shining. As I lose myself in the music, a thought occurs to me.WasI fooling myself tonight?AmI jealous that Sam can change for someone else, but not me? Being here proves he can. This morning, when we bumped into the other, I hate that his naked form stirred something within. I’m so ashamed.
But I can’t deny that being near Sam, like right now, something in my heart will always sing out to him. It always has. I spare a glance at Saxon. He can see it too. I’m wrestling with my emotions, but I’m afraid of what happens, unsure if I can overthrow the longing.
His rough voice snaps me into the now. “I’m going to miss this,” Sam hums, burying his nose in my hair. Saxon’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t move. What’s going through his mind?
