“But?” I ask, sensing he’s holding something back again.
“But…” He gives me a knowing look. “It isn’t home. I miss being in Charleston. I moved to Chicago because of… well, because of Claire.” He looks over at me. I school my expression at his mention ofher.
As he searches my features for the answer to whatever question he’s looking for, he continues. “I love my job, and Chicago is probably the best place for my career. It’s…” He pauses like he’s contemplating what to say next. “Chicago has this rich architectural history.” His voice is laced with enthusiasm.
When we were kids, Sam would stop and just stare at different houses or businesses and admire the structure. Hearing him speak about his career like he enjoys it makes me happy for him.
“It’s one of the major birthplaces of so many incredible architectural styles and designs. I couldn’t be in a better place career-wise.” He perks up a bit, but I can tell something is missing in his words.
“Tell me about your office. Is it fancy?”
He chuckles at my question but obliges. “It’s on the 95th floor and the view is incredible. I wish you could see it.” He peeks over at me before continuing, “I have a wall of windows that overlooks the city. There’s something so calming about looking out at the buildings.” He fully looks at me now—his expression is guarded.
“That sounds amazing, Sam.”
“It is. You know, I had a few of the pictures we took hiking in Seattle blown up, and they’re hanging on one of the walls in my office.”
I look up at him in surprise. “Really?” I wonder if any of the photos we keep in our offices match.
“Of course! Those were some of the best days of my life. I loved spending time with you.” I’m not sure what to think about this confession.Best days of his life?
“Mine too.” It comes out little more than a whisper. I look at the ground as I take his words in.
When we get to the park, we walk over to a bench and sit in companionable silence, letting the weight of our conversation settle.
Looking around the park, I see the pineapple-shaped fountain, a popular tourist attraction in Charleston. The grass is green andlooks lush. I want to take off my shoes and sink my feet into it. The park isn’t crowded, but there is a steady stream of people. During the summer, this park is always packed.
I look over at Sam and realize he’s watching me. I can’t stop the flush that creeps into my cheeks and look down at my hands.
The wind blows again, causing some of my long hair to drift towards him. I pull my hair back and mutter an apology. He just smiles back at me.
“I worry about leaving Chicago,” Sam breaks the silence, “and being able to keep my career moving forward like it has.” I study his face as he speaks. He almost looks sad.
“You want to move back to Charleston.” It’s a statement, not a question. I cross one leg over the other and stare at my hands.
“Yes. Chicago is… lonely, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends.” He shifts his position, propping a knee onto the bench, filling the space between us. My breath catches as his knee brushes my thigh. I’m glad he doesn’t seem to notice my reaction. “My dad is getting older, and I don’t want to miss out on spending time with him while I still can. I’ve thought about it for a while.”
I completely understand what he’s saying because I’ve been thinking the same thing. I want to move back to Charleston. And now that Ethan is gone? I let the thought drift off before it takes hold.
He clears his throat. “Enough of that. Your turn. I have to admit I never thought you would go to law school.”
Going to law school was always Ethan’s dream. It wasn’t mine. I wanted to follow in Mom’s footsteps and open a bakery or a bookstore—maybe both. Mom was much happier after she opened the bakery with Sam’s mom. Once the bakery took off, they were able to hire full-time employees and focus on new recipes and raising us kids.
“I know,” I sigh. “I didn’t know what to do. Law just seemed like the easy choice.”
He laughs. “Law and easy are not words I imagine go together.”
I smile. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I just mean, my dad did it, Ethan did it, hell, Mom did it too. So, I figured I would have the support I needed to go through with it and people who understood the process.”
It seemed inevitable that Ethan would follow in our dad’s footsteps. He always had that analytical brain. School came easily to him.
I’m not like Ethan. I always had to work hard to get good grades, and learning how to read and interpret cases didn’t come easily to me. I felt lost in my first year and heavily relied on my family to help me get by with just Bs throughout school. By my second year, I was in a good swing and understood what I needed to do to succeed.
Sam and I are both quiet for a moment, and I look up at him. He looks contemplative, as if something isn’t adding up for him. Instead of asking, I barrel on about my career.
“My clients love me, and my colleagues respect me. I’m on the fast track to becoming a partner in five years. I’ve worked so fucking hard for this.”
“So why do you sound miserable?” I look at him, searching his gaze, trying to place what made him think I’m miserable.
