I hesitate. I’d told myself I needed to get Sam out of my head once and for all, and yet I can’t pass up the chance to see Maverick again.
“Okay,” I finally say.
“Five o clock?”
“Sure.”
“You see what I’m trying to show you, right?”
“That you’re more of a dog lover than I ever knew?”
“No, that I’m easier to pin down than you think.”
I smile to myself. “See you then.”
After hanging up, I lean back against the couch and gaze out the window across the room. There are now long, gorgeous swaths of pink, red, and yellow in the sky, left by the setting sun. I feel an unexpected sense of contentment from being back in my apartment with some plans for the fall.
What about Sam, though?
Even thinking about him leads to a twinge of guilt. If Jamie were alive, I’d never pursue things. But he’s not here and so I wouldn’t be causing him any pain if Sam and I become a couple. And as I told Sam, I feel I could get beyond my guilt in time.
But would I be able to count on him in the long run?
Megan said earlier that love is about risk, and risk is what I preach to clients all the time—and I hope to take more of them myself. But I also warn clients that there are smart risks and dumb ones, and it’s essential to know the difference. I insist they need to ask themselves what benefit might result from a decision, and also what harm.
So I guess that’s what I need to do with Sam Morgan—figure out if he’d be a totally dumb risk for me to take on.
Or, maybe, a smarter one than I think.
