"We'll be twenty five," Imurmur.It's hard to imagine myself that age.But easier now thanit would have been a few months ago.The picture that floatsthrough my mind is the one Sam painted of me.Of the tough lawyerhelping girls who have been through the kinds of things I have.It's an inspiring thought.
"Yep," Samreplies.
"Do you think I'll stillbe your girlfriend seven years from now?"It's an insecure thing toask.But I want to know.I want to know if he thinks we are foreveror if he's just living in the moment.Because the more I picture myfuture, the more I can't picture it without him, and it's scary tothink he might not.
When Sam doesn't respondright away my nerves grow tenfold.I lean up to look at him and hisfurrowed brow and contemplative expression give me pause.Itworries me that he has to think about it.
"In seven years?Whenwe're twenty five?"
I don't know if he'sreally considering his answer or if he's just buying time to comeup with something that won't upset me.Either possibility sendssmall fissures fracturing through my heart.I don't respond, sinceI'm pretty sure his question was rhetorical.
"Nah," he says finally,and I stop breathing, terrified that if I try to take anotherbreath, I will only choke on it.
The worst part is he'slooking off in the distance, as if he's really considering hisanswer—as if it's what he really believes.
"I mean, I hope not," headds, still not looking at me, and it's a good thing too—I can onlyimagine my own expression right now.
But why would hehope not?What a strangething to say to your girlfriend.That he hopes we break up by thetime we're twenty-five?
Sam sighs then."By then Ihope you're my wife.Or at least fiancé."
It takes me a moment toprocess.I have to remind myself of my choice of words.And then Ishove him in the shoulder.
"I hate you," I mutterunder my breath before curling back into his side.
"What?"He's all innocenceand confusion.
Asshole.My heart is still beating so fast it mightcombust.
"Does that scare you?"heasks cautiously.
I shove him again."No,you jerk.Youscared me."I'm only vaguely aware that the thought ofmarrying Sam has the opposite effect than the one of marrying Robindid, even before things got really bad between us.In fact, it's amonumental relief.
"What?"Sam still has noidea what he just put me through.
"Never mind."
But he won't accept that.I know it even before he rolls me onto my back and hovers over meso I can't escape his gaze.He doesn't even have to ask again, hiseyes do it for him.
This is so embarrassing."When you said no I thought..."
I don't finish thesentence but Sam's eyes go wide and he finishes it for meanyway.
"That I meant wewouldn't be together?"He says it like it's completely unfathomable, and itdissolves the last of my anxiety about this whole exchange."God,Ror, you're the one who doesn't get it."He shakes his head inadmonishment, but doesn't say another word.
He kisses me instead, andhis kiss is a reminder.A promise.It is joy and hope, present andfuture.
"Let me take you tobreakfast," he murmurs once he pulls away."That is if you're stillnot sick of me."His lip twists up into a smug smirk.
I want to think of somewitty response, but I've got nothing."I can't think of anythingI'd rather do right now."My stomach grumbles on cue, confirming mywords, and Sam chuckles.
"Let's get you fed, babygirl."
We get dressed quickly andI pile my hair into a messy bun.We're about to head downstairswhen my doorbell rings.I look to Sam, but he doesn't have anyideas of who it could be either.Carl or Tina surely would havecalled or texted if they wanted to come by.
Sam follows me down thesteps, but he makes his way in front of me before I even reach thedoor.He looks through the peephole and his entire body stiffens.Suddenly he's radiating such protective intensity that it sets meon edge.
"Sam?"I saytrepidatiously.
