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She fingered the envelope. “What does the card say?”
I went back to my computer screen, hoping she would get bored and leave. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
“This is romantic.”
When I looked up, she had opened the card. I couldn’t complain; I’d claimed not to care.
She read the card. “Listen to the CD. It says it all. Please have dinner with me. Love, Liam.” She fanned herself with the envelope. “That’s what I call smokin’ hot.”
“Like I said, not interested.”
“What’s on the CD?” she asked.
“Not a clue. Like I said——”
“Yeah, not interested.” She walked to my phone and dialed. “Lucy, please ask Gary to bring up that boombox he has down in shipping. Thanks.”
“Can’t you just leave it alone? It’s my life, not yours.”
She sat down. “You’re my best friend, and I can’t let you totally fuck up your life without at least saying something.”
“I am not fucking it up,” I said firmly. “I’m keeping it from getting fucked up.”
“And who told you not to marry Matt?” she asked.
I had forgotten that one. “You did. But it doesn’t mean you know everything. You had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”
Gary arrived with a dusty boombox in hand. “You wanted some music?” He punched a button and “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers started playing.
“Thanks, Gary. We’ve got it from here.” She took the player from him and turned Kenny’s volume down.
“You do have to know when to fold ’em. He has that part right,” I told Samantha.
She scowled at me, pulled the CD from the flowers, and loaded it into the player.
The music started.
I knew the song right away: “Sunny,” the song he’d told the Schmulians was our song at that first dinner downtown. I teared up. The refrain kept getting to me——all that talk about love so true. I turned toward the window to hide from Samantha.
Liam had called me Sunshine from our very first meeting at the bar. As the song continued, I realized he’d interspersed snippets of the lyrics in many of our conversations. He’d told me I made him feel ten feet tall, that I was his sweet, complete desire. He’d told me I eased his pain and helped him see the truth. And that I was the spark of nature’s fire——whatever that meant.
Every refrain made it harder to keep my resolve, but I had to. My sanity depended on it.
Mercifully the song ended.
I stayed facing the window.
“You really should listen to the lyrics like he said,” Samantha scolded. “I don’t know a woman in this building that wouldn’t love a boyfriend half as romantic as the one you’re throwing away.”
“Are we done yet?” I asked still facing the window to hide my tears.
“Yeah, we're done,” she said. “I’ll leave you with it.”
I heard the click as she pressed play, and the music started again.
I saw her leave in the reflection of the window.
The door closed behind her, but the music continued.
