Chapter Eleven
Samuel
The hot cocoa had gone lukewarm in my hands, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I was curled up in the oversized armchair by the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket that smelled faintly of cedar and someone else’s nostalgia, watching flames dance behind the glass. Purrsephone had claimed my lap approximately twenty minutes ago and showed no signs of relinquishing her territory. Her purr was a constant, rumbling vibration against my thighs—the only sound in the cabin besides the occasional pop of burning wood.
Outside the window, snow had begun to fall.
How quaint, I thought, watching the fat white flakes drift lazily past the glass. A cozy cabin, a crackling fire, a cat on my lap, and snow. This is exactly what people pay thousands of dollars for in those ‘escape the holiday chaos’ packages.
It should have been perfect.
Instead, all I could think about was the way Farley had cried when he told me he couldn’t do this.
You’re worth waiting for, Farley Davenport. Even if you don’t believe that yet.
I’d meant it when I said it. I still meant it now, alone with my cooling cocoa and my borrowed cat and the memory of the best kiss of my entire life.
But meaning something didn’t make it hurt any less.
“This is fine,” I told Purrsephone, who blinked up at me with her mismatched eyes. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything is completely, absolutely fine.”
She made a sound that suggested she didn’t believe a word of it.
The thing was, I understood. That was what made it so frustrating. I understood why Farley needed time. His ex-boyfriend had betrayed him in the most humiliating way possible. Farley hadn’t just lost a relationship; he’d lost his sense of judgment, his professional reputation, and his ability to trust his own instincts.
Of course, he wasn’t ready to jump into something new. He needed time to heal before he could open himself up again. He’d told me, with tears streaming down his face, that he couldn’t be someone’s second choice again. That he didn’t trust himself to know the difference between genuine feelings and potential rebound issues.
And I’d said okay. Because what else could I say? Actually, Farley, I think you should ignore your emotional trauma and come to bed?
I wasn’t that guy. I refused to be that guy.
But God, it would be easier if we hadn’t had that day in Charlottesville first. If we hadn’t spent time wandering through Whole Foods, bickering about kombucha and bourbon and whether premium cat food was worth the extra money. If we hadn’t hidden from a pack of church ladies in a photo booth, pressed together in that tiny space, taking stupid pictures that I now had tucked into my wallet like a lovesick teenager.
If he hadn’t kissed me back like I was oxygen and he’d been drowning.
“Friends,” I said out loud, testing the word. “We’re friends. Friends who kissed once and then discovered three dead mice and decided to only be friends.”
Purrsephone’s expression suggested this was the most pathetic thing she’d ever heard.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who left the murder presents.”
She began grooming her paw.
I thought about the way I’d screamed when we walked in and found her little offerings, while Purrsephone sat in the middle of the carnage looking immensely proud of herself.
It had been funny. Horrible and gross, but genuinely funny.
When Farley looked at me with those sad eyes and told me he should go, I’d watched my window of opportunity close like the world’s most depressing elevator door.
I took a sip of my lukewarm cocoa and grimaced. Even the chocolate had given up on me.
The snow was falling harder now. I watched it through the window, trying to remember when snow had stopped being magical and started being just cold, wet stuff that ruined your plans. Probably around the same time I’d stopped being Samuel Bennett, hopeful actor, and started being Dr. Brock Blaze, contractually obligated soap star.
Seven years. I’d been playing the same character for seven years. I’d been poisoned, kidnapped, and had my memory erased so many times that the writers made jokes about it. So many freaking love interests, none of whom lasted more than a season because the show’s formula demanded constant romantic upheaval.
And through it all, I’d been lonely.
