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"I wouldn't call it the best, but it's in my top five of my favorite dinners. Thirsty?"
She nods while grabbing her phone. "Do you mind if I listen to some music?" she asks, holding up her headphones she took with her when we left Cole's place.
I grab our plates and stand up. "Go ahead. I'll clean this up and make us something to drink."
A long breath escapes my lungs while I scrape the remaining pizza leftovers into the trash.Oh, Cole. What is haunting you so badly?His dazzling blue orbs keep reappearing in my mind's eye. After filling the dishwasher, I snatch my phone from the counter and tap my index finger against the screen. After minutes of staring at it, contemplating if I should call him or not, I put it back on the counter and focus on making drinks.Why can't I stop worrying about him?No man ever affected me this strongly. The frustration and hurt that consumed me hours ago have left—now there is only worry and concern.
"Shit," I mumble as I see the pool of iced tea spreading over the counter. I lift the tall overflowing glass and pour a part in the sink.Jeez, focus. After drying the countertop, I grab the glasses and stroll back to the living room, where I sit on an empty couch.Where is Samantha?A thin sound gets my attention.Where is that coming from?My eyes land on her headphones connected to her phone. Too curious, I lift and put the black headphones on my head.
She's listening to a piano piece. The part reminds me of autumn and raindrops coating your skin as you walk through low hanging misty clouds. The notes change. They become more profound, more vibrant, stirring a river of emotions inside me.God, this is amazing.My eyes shoot open when the couch dents right beside me. In an instant, I remove the headphones and give them back. "Great music. Surprising, but stunning. I didn't know you liked that style."
Samantha's fingers cling around the listening device as she takes the headphones back. Her skittish eyes dart my way. "I do," she mumbles.
The energy she radiates is so delicate that I focus my attention on something else. I touch her dress and grin. "I see you changed."
Samantha gets up from the couch and twirls around. Her frown gets traded for a smile that makes her eyes sparkle. Her hands glide over her brand-new cute, beige, sleeve-pleated, knee-length dress that we bought during the shopping spree this afternoon. The material is smooth and shows off her beautiful figure.
"Thank you, Alisha, for this amazing dress and the shopping. I loved it."
"You're welcome. I had fun too." I return her smile while remembering how she hopped in and out of the dressing rooms trying out different outfits. I showed her what I thought looked good on her, based on her body shape, length, skin, and hair color. God, this girl has found her way into my heart—she is such a sweetheart. I raise a brow when I catch her biting her lip and fiddling with her ponytail.
"Okay, before you eat the skin off your lips, tell me what's up."
Samantha peeks my way—her eyes glassy blue spheres.
"Hey, what's wrong? Why the sudden sad face?"
"You remind me of my mom," she says while a tear forms in the corner of her eye.
My heartbeat increases.
"This"—she waves with her hands between us—"reminds me of the times with her. We used to do shopping, eating on the couch, and other stuff together." Her chest falls and rises. I pat my hand on the spot next to me, and Samantha takes a seat. I squeeze her hand.
"Tell me something about her. Because it sounds to me, she was a fantastic mother."
"Yeah, she was the best mom ever. You would have liked her. She was strong and beautiful, like you."
My throat constricts. Samantha opens her phone, and after some scrolling, she shows me her screen.
"Oh, she was beautiful, Sam. You have her smile," I say, staring at the picture of them at the beach. Her mom has her arms around Samantha—both smiling radiantly into the camera. I swallow a lump at this display of love.
"My mom wanted to be a lawyer, but when she was pregnant with me, she went back to live with my grandmother and found out Nanna was sick. She took care of her and me for years." Samantha clears her throat as she rubs her hand over her chest. "She used all her savings to pay for the hospital bills. So instead of going back to school, she started working two jobs to pay the bills."
"That must have been hard."
"Yeah, especially when Nanna died, and she had to leave when I got home from school. I've spent a lot of time alone."
"Didn't you have friends at school?"
Her head lowers, and she shakes softly. "Rachel was my only true friend in L.A." She wrinkles her nose. "The guys in school kept bullying me because of where my mom worked." Samantha swallows and brushes her hand over her chest. "She worked at a strip club. Not as a stripper. But as a waitress." The nails of her thumb and index finger rub against each other. "When a few guys in school found out, they kept asking me while waving a dollar bill, how much they had to pay me so that I would strip. Or they would ask me if my mother would remove her clothes if they hired her."
I shake my head and take a sip of my iced tea to swallow the sour, bitter taste away.God, why are kids so cruel?"And the school here in Boston?"
Her eyes find mine. "It's okay. I like it."
A sense of relief washes over me. Thank God, because if I found out boys were pestering her here, I would go to the school to twist their balls.
"Can I ask you a question?" Samantha says, now biting the nail of her index finger.
