“Sure,” he answered a bit tightly, taking off his jacket. “I’ll, um, I’ll make some coffee.”
I showered and washed my hair as fast as I could. The sky was downright black now, and the house shook periodically from the force of the wind. I pulled on some jeans and my comfy old Holy Cross sweatshirt and went to face Sam. The minute I stepped into the kitchen, the lights went out.
“Well, this gives us a sense of foreboding, don’t you think?” I asked cheerfully, though my stomach was in knots.
“At least the coffee’s done perking.” Boy Scout that he was, he’d rooted out a few little votive candles while I’d been in the shower, and now lit them, placing them around the kitchen. Their warm, gentle glow flickered in the drafts. Sam handed me a cup of coffee, cream, no sugar, just the way I liked it. “I filled up some pots with water in case we’re out for a day or two,” he said, and I could hear his nervousness in his voice.
“Thank you.”
Sam cleared his throat and leaned against the counter.
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked, suddenly dying to delay this awful moment.
“No, I’d better do this standing up,” he answered. Dread rose in the bottom of my stomach and trickled into my arms and legs, leaving a path of cold behind. It was one thing to imagine this conversation, but it was another to have it here and now.
“Okay, Millie,” Sam began. “I just want to say this and get through it, and then you can have a turn, all right?”
“Okay,” I said, my voice catching. Digger, sensing my sorrow, came over and put his head in my lap. I stroked his ears for a second, then said, “Go lie down, boy.” He obeyed, disappearing into the gloom of the living room.
“You know I think you’re great, right, Millie?” His voice was so gentle and soft that it caused a physical ache in my throat and chest. Tears, my constant companion, stung my eyes. I nodded, unable to look at him. A gust of wind rattled the windows and slapped sheets of rain against the shingles.
“Over the past year, you’ve been a really good friend to me, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. You’re important to me, Mil. I want you to know that.”
I swallowed loudly and looked out the window.
Sam took a deep breath and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “At the clinic the other night, I…I didn’t plan on that. I don’t want you to think I’m some lecherous creep who’s been sniffing after my wife’s sister all this time. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered. A tear slipped down my cheek, but hopefully it was too dark for Sam to see.
“So, Millie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took you by surprise like that. I surprised myself, too. And I’m sorry you felt so uncomfortable that you couldn’t even call me. I mean, I understand, believe me. But the last thing I wanted to do was ruin our friendship. You’re probably the best friend I’ve got, and if you didn’t want to see me anymore, Millie, I’d miss you more than I could say.”
I nodded and pressed my fingers to my lips to hide the fact that I was crying. My hands and legs were shaking, and it felt as if a steel band were crushing my chest. So this was heartbreak. It was living up to its reputation.
Sam shifted, putting his coffee cup on the counter. As the candles flickered, I sneaked a look at him, then quickly looked back at the table. “It’s okay, Sam,” I began, my voice rough with tears.
“I’m not done.” His voice was almost sharp. “Millie, I need to tell you this because I can’t lie to you.” He gave his head a little shake, then took a deep breath. “See, Millie, while I’m sorry I surprised you, I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
It took a minute for those words to reach my heart. When they did, I turned and stared at Sam, dumbfounded. He was looking right at me, his fists shoved into his jeans pockets, clearly scared. He winced a little.
“Something changed, Millie,” he said, his voice shaking. “I don’t know exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the line, I…I fell for you.”
The roaring in my ears had nothing to do with the storm outside, and my heart felt like a seagull soaring up on the ocean breeze. Sam was still talking.
“I didn’t want to admit it, because of Trish and all that. I mean, I’ve always cared about you, of course. But at the Lighthouse Dance, you looked so beautiful, and then, at the clinic I just…I just couldn’t pretend that I don’t have…that I don’t…ah, shit. Please, Millie, say something.”
I tried to answer, but no sound came out. Sam obviously misread my silence, because he looked down at the floor and his shoulders sagged a little. I wiped my eyes on a napkin, went over to him and put my hands on his shoulders.
“Sam,” I said. “I think I’ve loved you my whole life.”
His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the only sounds coming from outside. “You…Say that again?” he said.
“Oh, Sam, I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m crazy about you.” A laugh hiccuped out of my mouth.
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
And then suddenly Sam was kissing me, his hands in my damp hair, his mouth hot and sweet against mine, and nothing had ever felt so right in my life. He pulled me closer, and I could feel his heart thudding. He was such a thrilling combination of familiar and new. His hair was surprisingly soft, his ribs solid under my hand.
Then Sam pulled back. “Millie Barnes,” he whispered, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s sit down, okay? I guess we should talk.” He picked up a candle, and I was gratified to see that his hands were shaking. We went into the living room and sat on the couch, the single candle casting just enough light for us to see each other. Sam reached out and touched my cheek, and the way he was looking at me, with such intent, such softness, made my heart squeeze.
“So,” I said, blushing.
He smiled. “So. When did you, uh, realize you felt like this?”
I cleared my throat. “Career Day,” I admitted.
He threw his head back and laughed. “So that’s what was going on.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“Oh, it was.” He took my hand. “So what are we going to do, Mil? How do you want to handle this?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Sam. I guess it’s a little weird, dating your ex-brother-in-law.”
“Yeah. I guess we should be discreet. Take things slow.” He paused. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell Danny or Trish or anyone before we…I don’t know. Get settled.”
“Sure.” I grinned suddenly. “At least my dad will be happy.”
“I know I am.” Sam smiled back, his eyes crinkling, and a warm tug of desire pulled in the pit of my stomach. His hand slid up my arm to my neck and pulled me closer. His lips were warm and firm, and we fit together as if our sole purpose in life was to kiss each other. His hands slid down my back, and I kissed his neck, his skin as sweet as chocolate.
Sam Nickerson. I was kissing Sam, and he loved me. Life was unspeakably kind.
“Millie,” he whispered a little hoarsely, “I want you to know that this is not some passing thing. I look at you and I see the rest of my life.”
Who wouldn’t feel like swooning? My knees went watery, and when he kissed me again, I found that I was clutching a fistful of his shirt. I could feel his heart thudding hard against my breast, feel the heat of his skin. Apparently his shirt came untucked—okay, I pulled it out—and I slid my hands over the warm skin of his back, so incredibly happy and stunned and thrilled that I felt like laughing and crying at the same time.
“About this discreet and slow thing,” I managed to say, my limbs tingling with that odd combination of weakness and desire. I pulled back to look in his eyes and ran my fingers through his hair.
“What about it?” His breathing was ragged.
“I’m all for discreet. But maybe we could rethink slow.”
Because I had known Sam all my life. I knew his goodness and kindness and I knew that I loved him with all my heart, and really, why on earth should we wait?
“I love you, Millie,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and I actually felt dizzy at the words.
“I love you, too,” I breathed.
And I disentangled myself from his arms, stood up and led him down the hall. To bed.
THE AFTERNOON DARKENED, the storm growing weaker as it blew out to sea, and Sam and I were still in bed. The occasional gust of wind and the rain drumming on the roof reinforced the feeling that we were the only two people around, and the only thing that mattered was the two of us, together, alone, at last. Except for Digger, whose cute little head popped up next to the bed. “Hi, buddy,” I said. He jumped on the foot of the bed, curling himself into a tight circle.
“If he wants my leg, he’s got it,” Sam murmured, pulling the blanket up over my shoulder. “I’m too tired to move.”
“It’s only fair,” I agreed. Sam laughed, but Digger, unaware that he had carte blanche, fell promptly asleep.
For a long time, we lay wrapped around each other, my head on his uninjured shoulder, his fingers playing in my hair, my hand over his heart. “I really love you, Millie,” Sam whispered.
I sneaked a peek at his face. His eyes were closed, a smile on his generous mouth. I’d never noticed how long his eyelashes were, or the little scar on his chin. “I love you, too, Sam,” I said, and my heart swelled at being able to say the words.
“You better. This is going to be a little tricky, when we tell your family. Especially Trish.”
“Maybe we can just run away,” I suggested.
“Elope. That’s not a bad idea,” Sam said, still smiling. I snuggled back down against him, kissed his shoulder. The wind scraped against the sky, rattling the screens. It was the happiest moment in my life to date. Here I was snug at home with the man I loved, and he loved me right back. I didn’t have to pretend with Sam, didn’t have to try to get him to notice me or make him love me, because he already did. The feeling of safety and utter contentment made my heart ache with fullness.
There was a crack as a branch or something fell in the yard. Digger jumped off the bed, barking at the window. “It’s okay, Digger,” I said. Less than reassured, Digger raced into the kitchen and continued to bark. “Crazy dog. Doesn’t know the difference between a branch and a burglar.” Sam chuckled.
But it turned out that I should have paid more attention to Digger because if I had, my sister wouldn’t have walked in and found me na**d in bed with her ex-husband.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THERE SHE STOOD, DRENCHED to the skin, face glowing white in the dark afternoon, her eyes like black holes. “Oh, God,” Trish choked. “Oh, Jesus.”
Sam and I were frozen in horror. I don’t even think I drew a breath. She backed up, then turned around and fled. The kitchen door must have caught in the wind, because it banged repeatedly behind her.
“Trish!” Sam called, unfreezing and sliding out of bed. He glanced at me. “This is not good.” Pulling on his pants and shirt, he glanced out the window as I reached for my bathrobe. “She shouldn’t be out in this weather. The roads are probably a mess.” Ever the cop. He went into the kitchen, me trailing uncertainly behind. Trish was already peeling out of my driveway, mud flying from her tires as she sped away.
“This is really bad,” I stated needlessly.
Sam turned to me. “Millie, I better go after her. It’s still pretty rough out, and she’s upset. She shouldn’t be driving.”
“Right. Yes, go ahead.” I was too shocked to say anything else.
“I’ll see you later.” He started to leave, then came back and planted a kiss on my mouth. “I’ll see you later,” he repeated.
“Okay,” I said, giving him a tight smile. The rain blew in as he opened the back door and ran to his truck.
The candles had long burned down. It was almost completely dark outside. I went into the living room and sat in the darkness. Digger followed, wagging, and curled up at my feet. The wind howled and the house shook.
If I could just erase the past five minutes, there would be no doubt that this afternoon had been the best of my life. Being with Sam, loving Sam and knowing he loved me, feeling that sweet, absolute bliss…It was overwhelming, a warm wave of happiness that I could not turn away.
But neither could I turn away the image of Trish’s face. I winced, my toes curling in discomfort. I hadn’t even realized she was back on the Cape, and I’d bet that Sam hadn’t, either.
I found my hurricane lanterns in the cellar and lit them, feeling very Little House on the Prairie in the warm, flickering light. Going to the dark refrigerator, I grabbed a Corona—not what Laura Ingalls would have done, but hey. A little alcohol was called for. Drinking in my bathrobe, alone. Not the most auspicious start to a new relationship.
I wondered where Trish had gone, if Sam had found her.
I didn’t have to wonder for long. The phone rang before I’d taken two sips of beer.
“What’s going on, Millie?” It was my mom, using a voice I hadn’t heard since adolescence, a voice full of fury, eager to punish. I could hear someone sobbing in the background, and I didn’t have to guess who it was.
“Um, what did Trish tell you?” I asked.
“That she found you and Sam together, Millie! In bed! How could you?”
“Well, okay, Mom, I seem to remember that Trish left Sam, quite some time ago.”