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“What does that mean?”
He shifted his gaze back to her, then reached out and helped himself to some of her popcorn. “You’ve grown. So have your photos. There’s more depth. More—” he looked directly into her eyes “—layers.”
Lacy flushed a little under the praise and was more touched than she was comfortable admitting. Over the past two years, she had changed. She’d been forced to grow up, to realize that though she had loved Sam, she could survive without him. She could have a life she loved, was proud of, without him. And though the empty space in her heart had remained, she’d become someone she was proud of. Knowing that he saw, recognized and even liked those changes was disconcerting. To cover up the rush of mixed feelings, she asked, “Is that a backhanded compliment?”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Nothing backhanded about it. Just an observation that you’re a hell of a woman.”
He was looking at her as if he was really seeing her—all of her—and she read admiration in his eyes. That was a surprise, and damned if she didn’t like it. A little too much. He was getting to her in a big way. What she was beginning to feel for Sam Wyatt now was so much more than she’d once felt and that worried her. When he left before, she’d survived it, but she didn’t know if she could do that again.
“Well, I should look for Kristi—”
“Oh, she left with Tony,” Sam told her with a half smile that made him look so approachable, so like the Sam she used to know that it threw her for a second. The then and now blended together and became a wild mix of throwing Lacy for a loop. When his words finally clicked in, though, she said, “Wait. She left?”
“He offered to buy her a calzone at La Ferrovia.”
“Ah.” Lacy nodded, understanding why her best friend had ditched her for her boyfriend. “He does know her weak spots. But who can blame her? Those calzones are legendary.”
“Yeah,” he said, and started walking alongside her as she turned to move down the crowded aisle. “When I was in Italy, I tried to find one as good as their spinach-cheese calzone and couldn’t do it.”
“Italy, huh?” Her heart tugged a little, thinking about the time he was away from her. What he’d done, seen. And yes, fine, who he’d been with. She shouldn’t care. He’d left her, after all. But it was hard to simply shut down your own feelings just because someone else had tossed them in your face.
“It was beautiful,” he said, but he didn’t look pleased with whatever memories were rising. “Jack always loved Italy.”
“Did you?”
He took more of the popcorn and munched on it. “It was nice. Parts of it were amazing. But seeing something great when you’re on your own isn’t all that satisfying, as it turns out.” He shrugged. “There’s no one to turn to and say, isn’t that something? Still, it was good to be there. See it the way Jack did. But I never did find a calzone as good as La Ferrovia’s.”
An answer that wasn’t an answer, Lacy thought, and wondered why he was bothering to be so ambiguous. She would have thought that he’d love seeing the top skiing spots in Europe. The fact that he clearly hadn’t, made her wonder. And she hated that she cared.
“But you’re happy to make do now with my popcorn,” she said.
“And the company,” he added, dipping one hand into the bag again. “This stuff is great, by the way.”
“Chelsea Haven makes it, sells it at all the craft fairs and at one of the shops on Twenty-Fifth.” She took another handful and added, “I got plain today because, you know. Stomach trouble.”
His eyebrows lifted, but she ignored it.
“She’s got lots of great flavors, too. Nacho, spicy and—my personal favorite—churro.”
He laughed a little. “You’re a connoisseur of corn?”
“I try,” she said with a shrug, and stopped at the next booth. Wooden shelves and a display table held colorful, carefully wrapped bars of handmade soaps. From bright blue to a cool green, the soaps were labeled with their scents and the list of organic ingredients. Lacy picked up two pale blue bars and held on to them until she could pay for all of her purchases at once at the exit.
Sam studied the display for a long moment before he picked up a square of green soap, sniffed and asked, “Who makes all of this stuff?”
“A small company in Logan. I love it.”
