Still, her confession from fifteen years ago surprised him. Had he meant that much to her? Were they on a date that night? How many sincere women had he hurt over the years with his love ’em and leave ’em lifestyle—like the night with the woman whose sincerity had opened his eyes to his selfish ways?
The server returned with a basket full of fresh bread, disposable wine glasses, napkins, a plastic tablecloth, and their lasagna in boxes. Overkill, but he’d take it. The server also handed Sam the re-corked bottle of wine, which he tucked in the basket before heading out.
First Avenue remained quiet, typical for a Hearts Bend Sunday evening. The wind was brisk and as he started toward Red Oak Lane, a light snow began to fall. Sam paused to flip up his coat collar and peered toward the park where the snow appeared like falling stars through the park’s lights.
A dark form sat on the bench under the grand oak. Chloe. He knew it without seeing her face.
“Kind of cold to be sitting outside.”
Chloe scooted toward the other end of the bench as Sam took a seat next to her, a basket in his hands.
“I had them box it up. You can take it home.” He shoved something into her coat pocket. Her forty dollars, most likely. “I’m sorry, Chloe. About everything. I never knew…”
“I was just sitting here feeling like a fool. I’m sorry, Sam. I was acting like a twelve-year-old.” She looked at him through the light and shadows of the park lamps. “I never told you how I felt, so why am I bringing it up now? Stupid.”
“Does it have to do with what you said to me the other night? That all the men you love die? So did my stupid text trigger you to be mad at me for something that happened years ago?”
She laughed into the cold. “That’s deep, Hardy. I’ll have to think about it. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt when we were teenagers?”
“How? When? I was too embarrassed. I didn’t want you to look down on me any more than you already did.”
“I never, ever looked down on you.” His voice was forceful, like he truly meant it.
“Maybe, but you never looked at me either. You wanted girls like Missy. I was so embarrassed in that black bikini, but I wanted you to see me.”
“I saw you all right.” He laughed, sitting forward with his arms on his legs, the basket swinging between his hands. “I told the guys if they touched you, or tugged on one of your bikini strings, I’d pummel them.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So you were my defender, my brother, not a potential boyfriend.”
“A little of all three. To be honest, I remember being scared to death that if I asked you for a date, you’d bite my head off.”
“Bite your head off?” She scoffed. “Please, we hung out all the time that summer. We had a blast. Why would I bite your head off?” Perceptions were so deceiving. “Can you believe we’re having this conversation? ‘You hurt my feelings when I was fifteen,’” she said in a sing-song voice.
“I thought you hated jocks, except maybe me. That you most certainly didn’t want to be seen dating one.”
“I didn’t hate you, that’s for sure.” She tugged her coat collar around her neck. “What an honest conversation would’ve accomplished back then.”
“To be honest, Chloe, you wouldn’t have wanted to be with me, even when I was fifteen. After my folks split, I couldn’t see or think straight. Jake and I had a massive fist fight, both blaming the other’s parent for the breakup of our families. I was so angry and bitter.”
“I remember.”
“I did whatever I wanted when I wanted. I wasn’t a nice guy at all, despite what you claim to see in me now. I got worse in college, then in the league.”
“Then I’m proud of you, Sam, for your effort to be a different man. I guess it’s true, we don’t really know each other as we are now, as adults with lives, with a past.” Her stomach rumbled as she looked over at him. “I’m starving.”
“Me too. Want to take this to your mom’s and?—”
“It’s beautiful tonight and I love the snow. I’m getting used to the cold again. Why not eat here, in the park?” She helped him set the basket on the bench. “Get to know one another.”
The tension between them melted and Sam spread the tablecloth over their laps. He passed out the lasagna, filled the plastic wine cups, and tucked a napkin in Chloe’s collar, then his own.
Chloe took a bite of lasagna and sighed. It was rich and savory, the right blend of spices, meat, cheese, and pasta. “Oh, this is so good,” she said. “Th-thank you.”
