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But when we walk into the hospitality suite, there is a table spread with food and snacks according to everyone’s food and drink preferences. We all rejoice and attack the table like a group of hyenas. I fill up my plate with salad and stir fry, and gobble it down. I pour myself a huge glass of wine. Even Betty seems to be happy with her gluten-free dinner. Sam helps himself to a ribeye and a glass of whiskey.
While we’re all gorging ourselves on dessert, Officer Max gives us the biggest shock of all by rolling a movie projector into the room.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Somebody requested While You Were Sleeping.”
That’s when I know who’s behind all of this.
I whirl around and grab Sam by the arm. “Did you do this?”
He pulls up a chair and pats the cushion, indicating he wants me to sit next to him. All the rest of the jurors are so hard up for screen time, they happily take seats around the room to watch.
“Sam.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Are you responsible for all of this?”
His eyes are glued to the wall at the far end of the room where the projector is showing the movie. But I spot a certain familiar twinkle. “I plead the fifth,” he says.
“Come on,” I say, playfully hitting his shoulder.
Shh,” he says, “movie’s starting.”
Chapter Seven
Sam
If aliens ever watch movies like this to learn about Earthling biology, they’ll think we humans all lose all of our memories every time we receive a blow to the head.
If I understand the plot of this romantic comedy, It seems the lady from Speed has a job as the world’s most attractive subway attendant, and she falls in love with some generic financial middle manager type with big eyebrows.
Anyway, it turns out the lady from Speed ends up falling for the finance guy’s much more relatable and rugged brother. Rugged according to Hollywood standards, anyway. Bill Pullman. Or Paxton? I can’t keep ‘em straight.
Apart from having the most ridiculous plot ever, it’s kind of funny I guess. It’s not the worst movie I’ve ever seen. That title belongs to the one about the boy who falls in love with the Nazi who can’t read. How the hell did that get made?
Maybe I’m enjoying this romantic comedy—not thoroughly, but somewhat—because I’m in the dark, not listening to lawyers speak, and Wren is sitting next to me. Her knee keeps gently bumping into my leg. Her soft giggles make me smile. I think we’re both a little tipsy from the alcohol that somebody brought in.
I can’t imagine who that was.
We’re sitting in the back of the room, where no one can see us. Wren uses our position to her advantage. She slips her hand under my arm and cuddles against me.
When she leans her sweet smelling head against my shoulder, my lungs fill with her scent.
She sighs softly and pivots her body toward me.
I’m enjoying myself more than I ever remember enjoying myself while watching a movie. It occurs to me that I want this. Every day. Out in the open. Not hiding in the dark.
I want to hold this woman in my arms every night and wake her every morning with sweet kisses.
I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else, and if that’s selfish of me, then so be it.
The whisper in my ear catches me off guard. “Meet me in the room in five minutes.”
“But I’m enjoying the movie,” I say, even though her whispers awaken the need in my body.
“Sam.”
