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He headed for the bar, and Maya looked around. Being here with him brought back long-faded memories, of standing there across the room when Cat told her Sam was backtracking on his involvement with her. Maya had glanced over, and he’d been laughing with his mates. As if it were insignificant.
It still pissed her off when she thought of it, but they had only been teens at the time. Communication skills hadn’t been her forte then either, so he hadn’t been the only one who possessed that flaw. And perhaps they still aren’t my strong area. As her inability to admit to her father what she wanted—or rather didn’t want—in life illustrated.
Sam appeared through the crowd with two bottles, sliding one across the table to her as he took a seat. He pulled a pen and a form out of his jacket where it was hanging on the seat behind him. “Let’s get this thing done.”
Maya grasped her beer, aware that, so far, the evening hadn’t been quite as hideous as she’d been expecting.
Sam filled in some of the blanks, including her date of birth, address, and qualifications. She smiled. “I don’t even need to be here. You could’ve done this all on your own.”
He looked up and flashed her a grin. “That’s the basics. We just have to run through a couple of safety scenarios.”
Maya took a swig from her bottle. “Hit me.”
He read them out, and she answered easily. Then he asked her the details of the classes she’d taught at Glencoe, and the names of her references. Before too long, he was recapping his pen. “That was the easiest interview I’ve ever done. Probably could’ve fitted it in at work after all.”
Maya laughed. “Now you bloody tell me.”
He shot her a sheepish expression. “Sorry. At least you got a drink out of it.”
“True,” she said, leaning back. “I might have one more for the road, though. Saves me returning home too soon to face Dad’s wrath.” She stood. “Can I get you one?”
“Yeah,” he replied, a smile on his lips. “But then I’ll have to get you another because I can’t have you being one up on me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Sam laughed as she moved off to the bar.
Once she had the fresh bottles, she came back to the table. Sam was frowning at his phone.
“What’s wrong?”
He put the phone down, and accepted his beer. “Thanks. It’s Arran. He can’t make it.”
“That’s a shame,” she said, taking her seat. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah. His ex called and asked him to take their little boy, Jayce, at the last minute.”
Maya nodded, remembering Liv mention Arran and his son in the past. “Hold on,” she said. “His ex? I thought Liv said he was getting married this summer?”
Sam grimaced. “He was. But she called it off a few weeks beforehand.”
“Ouch.” Maya winced, trying to imagine what that must feel like. Pretty shitty, she’d bet. “How is he?”
“Okay,” Sam said, seeming surprised that she was asking. “Getting there. He was made redundant from his painting and decorating job earlier this year though, so it’s not been a good one for him.”
Maya made a mental note to stop being a selfish cow and feeling sorry for herself regarding her own single status and jobless situation. At least she and Rich hadn’t been engaged and it’d been a mutual breakup. Plus, they didn’t have any kids. “Poor Arran. What’s he doing now?”
Sam hesitated for a second. “He’s getting a new art studio off the ground. It’s always been his dream, but he’d been scared to take the risk. Then he got his redundancy package and he figured it was now or never.”
Now or never. Does that apply to me, too?
Maya cleared her throat. “I remember he was awesome at art when we were at school.” She shot him a smile. “Unlike me and my rubbish skills. I couldn’t even draw a stick man.”
Sam laughed. “I do remember that house you painted a picture of, which looked more like a potato.”
Maya coughed on her beer. “Below the belt, Holland. I’m sensitive about my lack of artistic prowess.”
He shrugged, still smiling. “You were a whiz at math, so you’ll get no sympathy from me.”
