“Yeah, I was starting keeper three years in a row.” Samantha was clearly happy to talk to Sam about something she was proud of.
“Was?”
“Um, yeah. I’m not playing this year.” Her disappointment was obvious, and Maya felt a pang. She’d had to make that choice for Samantha. With the tuition at this new private school, Maya couldn’t afford the soccer fees.
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Oh... I’m just super busy with school.” Guilt stabbed Maya at hearing her daughter lie. “But I sawyoursoccer awards online.”
A beat passed before Sam responded. “Yeah, I guess you did. I played some. Was a decent keeper back in the day.” He laughed.
He started a conversation about keeper strategy, and he and Samantha were soon speaking a language that, while familiar, Maya did not understand. Much like hearing an old song on the radio could take you back to a moment in time, so did the sound of youthfulness in Sam’s voice. Maya’s thoughts were flooded with images of concerts and picnics and stolen kisses.
She suppressed those past images, which were better off forgotten, and stepped into the room, opening the curtain. Sam cleared his throat and stood as he stepped back from the bed. Upon seeing Maya, his expression turned grim, his eyes wary. Sam’s suit jacket had been tossed across a chair with his tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing corded muscles. Maya chided herself for even noticing his muscles at a time like this.
“Hi, Mom,” Samantha said apprehensively. She knew she was busted.
Maya walked in and addressed her daughter first. “You okay?”
“Yeah—the hidden cashew again. In the nut butter. I forgot to ask.” She rolled her eyes, and followed it with a torrent of words. “Are you mad? Don’t be mad. I know I should have told you I was meeting him, but I just knew if I asked, you would say no. And I wanted to meet with him—he is my dad.”
Maya cut her eyes to Sam, expecting to see accusation and defiance. What she found instead gripped her heart. Rather than being hard and angry, his eyes were soft and pained. She turned back to her daughter. “I’m not mad.” She side-eyed Sam. “Really, I’m not.” And she wasn’t. Her daughter was okay, and if Maya knew nothing else, she knew Samantha was safe with Sam.
He exhaled, and Maya felt the tension leave his body. She nodded toward the door. “Can I talk to you?”
Samantha rolled her eyes again, but laughed. “It’s okay,” she told Sam. “She won’t bite.”
Maya started as Sam gently placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her to the hall. The warmth of his touch was achingly familiar.
He came around to stand and face her. The white in his shirt contrasted with the creamy brown of his skin. He set his jaw and gripped her in his gaze. “I had no way of knowing she was allergic, and until she showed up, I didn’t know she was coming behind your back.”
Maya nodded. “Yes, I know. She kind of does what she wants sometimes.” Maya shook her head. “In any case, thanks for coming and staying. I’m sure you have work to do. I’ll stay. You can go.”
Sam looked at her, incredulous. “I’m not going anywhere.” He peeked into the room. “I’m staying right here until we know she’s okay.”
It was Maya’s turn to be incredulous. “What? You don’t have to—”
“I may not have to, but I want to and I will.” There was no room for negotiation.
Maya couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. But she’s going to make you watch soccer videos.”
Sam smiled, showing that dimple, and laughed softly. It was a deep, low rumble, and Maya’s stomach did a pleasant flip at the sound. “Twist my arm.” He placed his hand at the small of her back again as they headed back in the room. Maya took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. After all these years, why was she responding to him this way?
Just before they reached Samantha’s bed, Sam leaned down and whispered to Maya, “Let’s not forget that you still haven’t told me why you left. I’ll be stopping by the coffee shop for that explanation. Tomorrow.”
Well, that wasn’t going to calm her down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MAYA
Maryland, 1996
MAYAWANDEREDABOUTthe drugstore with the basket hooked on her elbow. She tried to ignore the store’s music taunting her, Alanis Morissette going on about free advice not taken. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo. Then she decided she needed more eyeliner. She chose a new lipstick.
She passed the feminine hygiene aisle and headed toward the snack area. Nothing sounded good, but she grabbed a can of barbecue Pringles anyway.Chocolate would be nice, she thought. She grabbed a bag of peanut butter cups and lingered awhile debating the merits of plain vs. peanut M&M’s.
She couldn’t avoid it anymore. She headed back to feminine hygiene and threw in a couple boxes of tampons. For good luck, Maya told herself. Finally, as casually as she could, she grabbed a handful of pregnancy tests and bolted for the checkout.
