Of course, he had.I kissed the crease where his smile was deepest, playfully knocking my nose against his.“So, the same, then.”
“I was lucky.My parents had steady jobs; they were both teachers, did I tell you that?”
I shook my head.“You told me about your mom.I didn’t realise your dad was one as well.”
He nodded.“My childhood was nice.Uncomplicated.”
“What made you want to move and make a name for yourself?”
“I wanted to.There’s no great story there, I’m afraid.But I saw in my parents the value of giving back, of making people happy by understanding their needs and being in a position to provide them.”
Fuck.Respect, gratitude, fuckingloveflooded over me, and I was (a rarity for me) without words.
“I know it’s not exactly the same, what I do compared to my parents, but I enjoy it.”
“It doesn’t have to be the same.You’re still doing good, in your own way.You think you’re sneaky but I saw the email about the literacy program.”
“Don’t be too impressed.It was the least I could do for mom and dad."This beautiful, selfless man.My heart skipped in my chest.“I should be doing more.”
I scoffed.“Should is a dirty word.Everyonecoulddo more, and if you have the opportunity to, and want to, then do it.But don’t live by the ‘shoulds’.Your life won’t be your own if you do that.”
His calloused thumb rubbed tenderly at my cheek.“Is that how you’ve lived your life?”
I nuzzled into the cradle of his palm.“I never wanted to have regrets.Never wanted to look back and wish I’d done something I hadn’t.But,” I looked down, “sometimes I wonder if it’s a trade-off.If one day, I’ll wish that I hadn’t done some of the things I have.Or,” I said, once again thinking about what happened with Pierce, “what would be different if I’d just played by the rules.”
Sam was unimpressed.“Then you wouldn’t be you.”
My smile felt weak.It was a nice sentiment, but I never wanted to be blind to the effects of my actions.“Sometimes that isn’t a bad thing.”
“I’m sorry, and excuse my language here, but fuck that.”
A surprised laugh escaped me.“You’re starting to sound like me.”
“That isn’t a bad thing, Tiffany.More people could use your courage.”
And what could I do but kiss him at that point?If only to silence the confession that was on the tip of my tongue.
But good God, it was difficult to stop myself.This whole “patience” thing was hard.
Of course, that didn’t mean I couldn’t at least edge around the subject.Test the waters.(There was only so much holding back a girl could do).
“What about you?”I asked.“What’s next?After the bar opens to astounding success, I mean.”
And if I weren’t so practiced in the art of Sam’s expressions, I wouldn’t have noticed him clamming up.The quick retreat of his gaze, the harsh bobble as he swallowed.The tightness of his smile when he finally said, “Hopefully, a toast to your next success.If you haven’t forgotten me, that is.”
With a playfulness that I didn’t really feel, I halfheartedly slapped his chest before settling back down against him and tucking my head under his chin to hide my expression.“I don’t think I’d be able to forget you if I tried.”
I wondered what a relationship with Sam would be like.Probably a lot like working together.Two independent bodies in mutual orbit.We’d talk, tease, fuck.I’d bake, he’d read.We’d walk.Visit the museum.On nights off, we’d sit side by side; I would catch up on whatever show I’d found to binge; he’d catch up on whatever book he was behind on.
It felt natural, like an extension of who we’d always been.Nothing scary about it.I knew him.He knew me.We liked each other anyway.We’d already fought and made up or moved on a hundred times, so I didn’t have to worry about that.I’d never held back from him, and I had to believe he’d mostly done the same.The idea of more, of (fuck) forever, was more like never saying no to what we had, not saying yes to anything new.
Nothing would change between us if we made it official.I wouldn’t wake up one day to a new person or expectations that hadn’t existed before.It would be this, wrapped up together, working side by side, as a couple.
I’d never quite been able to imagine giving my heart away.I’d held too tightly onto it to imagine it any less like giving something up.In the end, it felt as natural as breathing.
I bit back a smile.
No, not breathing.
With Sam, it was a shot of liquor, a burst of flavor that at first burned, then soothed, then swarmed.Until you were loose and relaxed and feeling the best you’ve ever felt.
Silently, I flattened my palm against his chest, above his breast bone, feeling for his heartbeat.Did it harbor the same sense of belonging that mine did?The same recognition of a kindred, an equal?
I wanted it to.
