“Which brings me back to my previous question. What next?”
I offer a disconsolate shrug. “I don’t know. I’m heading back to New York soon, and I hope being farther from here will give me a fresh perspective. Maybe if I hold off for a while, let the dust settle, and then approach the police again, they’ll do something more than direct me to victim services.”
“When?”
“When do I plan to go to the cops again?”
“No, when are you going back?”
“In a couple of days.”
He holds my gaze for a few seconds, pressing his lips together. Ifeel myself flush a little, remembering last night and the kiss he gave me before he stole away. The kiss from someone who said he’d wished we’d met sooner.
I look off for a few moments, flustered, and when I glance back, I see Sam checking his watch.
“Am I keeping you from anything?” I say.
“Quite the opposite. You’ve spared me from a dinner party my parents are hosting for four extremely pompous friends of theirs who love showing me how brilliant they are about stock futures.”
“Still,” I say, slowly rising from the table. “I should let you go.”
He rises, too, and levels his gaze on me again.
“Is that what you want?”
I stare back. “What?”
“For me to go?”
I hold my breath for a few seconds and slowly exhale. “No. No, it isn’t.”
A second later he’s kissing me, softly at first and then more deeply, my face cupped between his hands. I feel overwhelmed with longing but also disbelief. Is this really happening?
Sam presses his body against mine, and then our hands fly, exploring. Finally, he pulls away.
“What now?” he asks softly.
“Do you want to stay—I mean, for the night?”
“Yes. But...” He laughs lightly. “You’re about to see what a nerdy professor I really am. I don’t have any protection.”
I smile awkwardly back at him. “Neither do I.”
Inside I’m cringing, knowing that this is a chance for us, and I need to grab hold of it. If we say goodbye now, promising to meet another night, it’s possible that night won’t come to be.
“Wait,” I blurt out. “Maybe in my toiletry bag. Give me a second.”
I hurry upstairs, resisting the urge to break into a run. In the bathroom, I fumble through the bag and, miraculously, locate two condoms at the very bottom, purchased before I met Jamie but somehow not expired. I return downstairs, praying Sam won’t have thought better of this in the meantime, but he smiles when I tell him we’re all set.
Within seconds, it seems, we’re in my bedroom, kissing passionately again. The sex is intense and electric, though it’s hard to know if that’s simply because we’re a good match as lovers or because this is something I’ve craved for so many months.
Later, Sam slips his arm under me and strokes my forehead.
“I need to be honest with you about something,” he says in the dark, and my stomach drops. Is he going to tell me he’s seeing someone?
“Okay.”
“I meant what I said last night, about wishing I’d met you first. I’ve thought that for a long time. Part of why I acted so foul after the breakup was because I was worried that I’d gotten drunk one night and sold my soul to the devil to make it happen.”
