by Olivia Miles
Soon, Sam would go back to New York, and she’d. . . Well, she and her sister would be able to reopen Sunshine Creamery. She’d come to her office every day, listen to Penny’s stories about her latest disastrous Internet date (the last one had slid her the bill when the meal was over), and watch the little bluebird pop out of the cuckoo clock. She’d get her coffee from Hailey, wave to Jim Watson, and sit on her fire escape with Mary. And soon, Sam would be a thing of the past again.
Lila wandered into the small waiting area. “Good night, Fred,” she said, as she flicked the lights and closed the door behind her.
“Talking to your plants now?” a deep voice behind her said.
Lila jumped and flung her hand to her chest. She could hear its steady drum as she looked down through the propped open door of the vestibule to see Sam standing at the base of the stairs, giving her a lopsided grin. “You surprised me. What . . . what are you doing here?”
Sam held up two large take-out bags. “Hungry?”
Lila hesitated with her hand on the iron rail. She hadn’t eaten anything since a croissant at the café at eleven, but her appetite vanished when she locked on those blue eyes.
She never should have allowed herself to kiss him. Now . . . now it was all she could think about.
Sam’s grin was boyish as she met him on the sidewalk. “I remember you liked sushi.” His voice was deep and smooth, and it sent her mind into a tailspin of memories and conflicted desires, bringing her back to those days and nights in New York, each one perfectly tainted with an image of Sam.
“Every Friday night.” Her heart tugged a little when she thought of their ritual, and the way she looked forward to it each week. It was special, she thought, that they had a tradition of their own. She’d dared to hope it would be the first of many.
She hadn’t eaten sushi since she’d left New York, even though it had once been her favorite food. Dramatic, yes, but more than anything, indicative. She’d never gotten over him. Six years and terrible behavior had done nothing to erase all the good times she still clung to. And now . . . She glanced at him sidelong, hating the way it felt so nice to fall into step beside him, to walk with him through her neighborhood, to enjoy that little tingle that zipped down her spine every time he smiled at her. Now she was starting to wonder if she’d ever get over him again.
They walked to Lincoln Park and settled on the cool grass in a little corner that was always empty and shielded by colorful flowering shrubs in bright shades of purple and pink. Sam took the boxes of sushi out of the bags and handed her a set of wooden chopsticks.
“I have a little something else, too.” From the second bag he pulled out a bottle of champagne and two paper cups. “The best I could do,” he said, grinning. He took an army knife from his pocket, flipped up the corkscrew, and handed it to her, his skin brushing hers at the exchange. Lila’s fingers stilled, heated by the touch, but a shiver ripped down her spine.
Ridiculous! It was probably just the wind.
Lila pushed the tip of the corkscrew into the cork as Sam began plating the sushi. Every so often he stopped to check on her progress, and she could make out a hint of amusement in his expression as he leaned over her shoulder. He was so close, so warm and near, she could have sworn she felt his breath on her neck.
She focused on releasing the cork, trying to ignore the way his leg was now skimming hers, creating a tingle that made her body harden. She had to keep her heart out of this. So what if she was attracted to Sam? Surely lots of women were. It didn’t mean anything could ever come from it . . . nothing good anyway.
She glanced sidelong to see a shadow of amusement pass over his face. “Need help?” he asked, and Lila hesitated, forgetting for a moment what he was asking of her until he leaned over and wrapped his hand around hers, fumbling with the device. The trace of his fingers on her own sent an electric current rolling through her and she quickly pulled her hand back. She couldn’t fight the way his heat made her body respond and her mind race.
The cork popped, causing them both to jump a little. Lila laughed, happy to release her nerves, until she realized she’d fallen right back against his arm.
God help her. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and she sunk against him, enjoying the subtle motion.
Sam’s voice was thick and low in her ear. “So, maybe we should talk about what happened last night.”
Lila stiffened and leaned forward. If he was here to let her down gently, he had another thing coming. She would never give him that satisfaction. Not the second time around.
“I’m a big girl and I took it for what it was.” There. The words were spoken with less emotion than she felt. Sure, a part of her had wanted that kiss to mean something—to promise her a future that could make up for the past—but she was smart enough to know better. Sam couldn’t offer her that, as much as she wished that he could.
“And what was it?” Sam asked, lifting a brow.
“An indiscretion,” Lila said, inching herself away from him.
Sam’s eyes locked with hers. He nodded and finally said, “Well, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Lila’s heart soared and she quickly pushed it back in place, where it belonged. He was in town for another week. That was it. Their past was rotten and they had no hope for a future. All they had was the present. Right now.
He reached out and traced his finger down the slope of her neck and Lila’s skin prickled with pleasure. She grinded her teeth. It couldn’t be this easy. Not now, after everything.
“Is that the reason you were so quick to agree with my idea for the campaign?” She had to ask. She had to be sure.
Sam knitted his brow. “Lila. Have you ever known me to sugarcoat anything when it comes to business?”
Lila sighed. “I don’t see a point in this, Sam. You live in New York, I live here.”
“I think you’re just determined to argue with me.”
Lila arched a brow. “Argue with you? I’m just stating a fact.”
Sam offered a casual grin, his confidence unwavering. “I have a feeling that I can persuade you—”
“Persuade me? Sam, this isn’t an advertising campaign. I know where I stand on this issue, and I’m not going to change my mind.” Or at least, she was trying not to. She squirmed under his penetrating gaze, wishing she hadn’t said a word. That he couldn’t prove her wrong.
Finally, he pulled back. Poured the champagne and handed her a cup.
“What’s the occasion?” Lila asked.
“To Reed Sugar. And . . . to unexpected surprises.”
Lila took a small sip and set the cup down, struggling to balance it on the grass. She needed to keep a cool head tonight. “Are you that shocked that I came up with an idea you actually like?”she asked, managing a wry grin.
Sam gave her a long look. “I was referring to you and me, Lila. To finding each other after all this time.”
Oh. Lila swallowed hard and shifted on the grass as best she could in her skirt. She reached for the champagne. One more sip. She needed it.
Okay, maybe two more sips.
Sam tore into a pocket of soy sauce and stirred in some wasabi. Lila helped herself to a California roll, happy for the distraction. They ate without talking, the way only two people who knew each other could without feeling the strain of silence, the weight of having to think of something to say. Only this was one time where Lila suspected Sam had a lot to say, and contrary to her better judgment, she was desperate to hear it.
“I apologize for the lack of dessert,” Sam said when they’d polished off the four rolls. “But nothing could really top that ice cream I had last night.”
“Ice cream is always a little sweeter in the summer,” Lila agreed with a smile. She knew Mary would love to reopen Sunshine Creamery before the end of the season. With any luck, she just might be able to. “But then, most things are.”
“Even me?” Sam cocked an eyebrow, and his mischievous grin made her laugh.
“Yes,
” she admitted. “Even you.”
***
Sam leaned back against the grass, resisting the urge to reach up and pull Lila back with him, to roll on top of her, bury his mouth in the crook of her neck, and kiss her until she moaned. She was right. Last night had been a mistake—an indiscretion. Past or no past, they lived in different worlds. They always had.
His jaw tensed. Not always.
“You really light up when you talk about your grandparents,” he said, smiling sadly, thinking of the woman who had raised him, the way he couldn’t think of her without his gut burning with shame.
Lila shrugged and glanced down at him over her shoulder. Her hair spilled over her back, catching the last golden rays of the sunset. “They were really special. They didn’t have much, but we never even noticed. We were happy, which is about all we could have hoped for after our parents . . .”
Sam smiled sadly. “You’re lucky to have had them,” he said.
Catching the edge in his tone, Lila looked at him sharply. “Is everything okay?”
Sam propped himself up on an elbow. “There’s a lot going on back in New York right now. I’m a bit . . . tense.”
“Work or family?”
“My father—” Sam stopped himself. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and frowned at the grass. “My father and I have never been close,” he said, unable to hold back what was so forefront on his mind.
Lila tilted her head. “Was it always that way, even growing up?”
This was it. This was the moment he could tell her the truth—the dark past he’d kept hidden from everyone in his new life. The shameful family secret that no one could ever speak about, that would taint the Crawford legacy.
Sam cleared his throat. “I didn’t grow up with my father,” he said.
A little wrinkle appeared on Lila’s forehead. “But . . . I thought your parents were married.”
“My dad is married, yes. But not to my mother.”
He stole another glance at Lila, who was doing a damn poor job of disguising her shock. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I—”
Sam held up a hand. “It’s okay. No one knows. Well, a few perhaps, but they know not to say anything.” He drew a sharp breath, slicing through the pain in his chest when he thought of his father’s choices. “My father had an affair when Rex was just a toddler. And I was the result.” He shrugged, but the crease in Lila’s face showed that she didn’t believe his dismissive attitude anymore than he did. “My mother told him she was pregnant, and he tried to pay her off,” Sam said, his voice coarse with sudden emotion. He wasn’t used to talking about his family this way. They were who they were, and he saw little point in harping on the facts. But voicing it aloud was cathartic. Even if it did conjure up painful feelings he did his best to stow away. “Guess he didn’t need me complicating his life.”
Lila shook her head, frowning. “She told you that?”
“No.” He ground his teeth, wishing he could stop talking about this, stop thinking about it. That he could block out the painful memories as he’d done for so many years, but the anger inside him needed to be released. “I never knew my mother. She died right after I was born. There were . . . complications.”
Silently, Lila reached over and took his hand in hers. He squeezed it tight, without any intention of letting it fall.
Sam huffed out a breath. Shame tightened his chest when he thought of the woman he had never known and only learned about through stories. The woman his father had turned his back on. “I grew up with my grandmother, actually. My mother’s mother.”
Lila blinked. “Just like me,” she said so softly he could barely hear her words.
Sam brushed his thumb over her fingers. They felt so small and soft in his. “Just like you.”
“So how did you find your father?” Lila asked.
“My grandmother died when I was a freshman in college, and I found my birth certificate when I was cleaning out her apartment.”
Lila’s frown deepened. “Apartment?”
“Yeah, I grew up in Queens. Not exactly Park Avenue, like you were expecting.” He arched a brow.
Lila paused. “No,” she eventually said, shaking her head. “Not what I thought at all.”
“Life was tough at times. We struggled.” And he was still struggling. Struggling to be the best and stay at the top. Only not for money. Not like people thought.
“But the money your father—”
Sam shook his head. “My mother didn’t accept it. She was too proud.”
“Surely your grandmother could have reached out to him . . .”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck and stared out at the park, recalling the hardened look that would pass over his grandmother’s face whenever Sam asked about his father. “No. No, I don’t think she wanted anything to do with Preston Crawford, even if it might have made her life a little easier.” He looked back at Lila. “It’s the reason I waited until she died to really start looking for him. I could sense that he was out there somewhere, but I didn’t press it. I knew that she thought I was better off without him.”
And more and more, he was beginning to wonder if she was right. He loved his father, but he couldn’t be sure the feeling was reciprocated. And now . . . He thought of the ticking clock, the memories that were fading every day. Now maybe it never would.
Lila’s soft hazel eyes were wide. “I had no idea. You never said anything.”
“I can’t always say that I’m proud, but it’s something I needed to do. I had no family left after my grandmother died. At first, it was about fulfilling a childhood curiosity, of just meeting him. Then . . .” He gave a sad smile. “Well, then it became something more.”
Lila lifted her eyebrows and inhaled a deep breath, but said nothing. She clearly didn’t agree with his father’s choices any more than he did. “And Rex?” she eventually asked.
“Oh, Rex will always be the real son. Guess I should just be happy I got a brother out of this deal, even if he can be difficult.”
“You want your father’s love,” Lila observed, and Sam had to square his jaw to hold back the building emotions.
“I’ve done everything I could to earn his approval, to prove to him I’m no different than Rex. I changed my name, taking his, trying to make him see that I am every bit his own. Maybe someday he’ll actually believe it.”
Or maybe, he thought, falling back on that old fear, maybe all these sacrifices were for nothing.
Her hand was still on his, warm and steady. He grazed his thumb over her fingers again, catching her eye. Her lips parted slightly, and he waited for her to pull back, to distance herself from him, but she didn’t.
Sam reached over and tucked a strand of Lila’s hair behind the slender curve of her ear before leaning in and whispering, “I’m going to kiss you again right now, Lila. And this time, we’re not going to call it a mistake.”
He ran his mouth down to her lobe and took it gently in his teeth. Lila sighed, and he felt her smile against his cheek. He slid one arm around her waist as his lips trailed softly to hers, and he kissed her softly at first, slowly, wanting to savor her sweet taste. Her body rose and fell in beat with his own, and he pulled her closer, feeling the swell of her breasts against his chest, laying her back against the cool grass. Her hair spilled around her as she smiled up at him, and he brushed a tendril from her forehead, before leaning to kiss her once more, and hopefully not for the last time.
***
Her lips still tingled from his kiss. Her heart still pounded in her chest. She took another step. They’d reached the second-floor landing. The building felt quiet and still, with only the faint sound of a television coming from the first-floor unit. Sam was in her building, in her home, in her safe place. The little corner of the world she had carved out for herself after he had ruined her life.
The door to her apartment flung open before she could try the knob.
“Well there you are!” Mary exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting f
or you for over an hour. I finally gave up and—Oh.” She stopped at the sight of Sam. Her eyes drifted slowly back to Lila. “Oh, I see! Well, don’t let me interrupt anything. I was just leaving you a note. I got an extra shift tonight. So . . .” She blinked rapidly at Sam.
“Mary, I’d like you meet Sam Crawford. Sam, this is my sister.”
“Hello.” Sam extended a hand, and Mary beamed as she took it.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Sam,” she stage whispered.
“All good, I hope?” Sam winked.
“Well . . .” Mary giggled, and Lila tightened her grip on her handbag. Mary was loyal, but she was also entirely too forgiving. But then, unlike Lila, she was yet to really have her heart broken.
Lila hoped she never would.
“See you in the morning then?” Lila felt her cheeks begin to burn. She could only imagine how this looked to Sam. A night alone in her apartment. A bed just a few feet away from the living room sofa. Suddenly, the night held more possibilities than she could have planned for, or maybe even hoped for.
Mary’s lips twisted. “Oh, you can bet on it,” she said pointedly, as she jogged down the stairs.
Lila sighed as she stepped into her apartment and held open the door to let Sam pass. The dried wreath she had bought one Saturday morning at the market hung on the door. Now Sam would know that wreath. Now Sam would walk into her home as casually as he had strode back into her life, only to slide right out of it a week later.
Or maybe this time it would be different.
“Home sweet home,” she said.
“Your sister seemed nice,” Sam observed as she closed the door behind him. “I was sort of thinking she’d punch me in the nose or something.”
Lila couldn’t fight her smile. “Now why would she do that?”
Sam grinned back, and Lila relaxed into the moment. It felt good to be honest like this, to acknowledge the past. It was the only way either of them was going to ever move past it.
Her heart sped up when she considered what this meant. If there was a future between them. Or if this brief time together was just a way of leaving things off on a better note than they had before. A bittersweet good-bye, instead of just a bitter one.