He put in their order for delivery, which seemed to take forever. By the time he was done, Sam was perched on a stool across the counter from him drawing circles on the marble, her expression thoughtful, if a bit troubled.
“Something up?” he asked, not because he wanted to, but because that look worried him.
“Can…we talk about that day?” She peered up at him through her lashes, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at him fully.
Fuck.
That was the last thing he wanted to discuss.
“Sure. Yeah. What do you want to talk about?” He braced his hands on the counter, mentally steeling himself for what was to come.
“Walk me through what happened on your side? Please?”
“Okay, I got Sophia’s email. I talked to your dad, then went to your place. Rashae helped me get inside. I looked for you, and when I didn’t find you, I found your laptop and asked for help. A bunch of people had pictures, which I then turned over to the police. I recognized one guy as the driver for Sophia. From there it was a connect the dots to follow everything back to her.”
“Yeah, but—finding me?”
“That was all through a Facebook user.”
“Here’s the thing, I went back and looked at that profile. I have no idea who that guy was. How did he know me? How did he know about all the MoGo pictures being uploaded without user’s knowledge?”
“I don’t know.”
“The profile is gone.”
“I always assumed it was someone who knew your dad. Maybe someone with the NSA?”
“I guess? It still doesn’t make sense.”
“No, but this is DC, and your father is an important person. Think about it—everything that happened, the important stuff, was all kept out of the media. What other kinds of shit happens around here that we never hear about?”
“That makes me a little sick to think about.” She rubbed her temples.
“It’s not our problem, and maybe that sounds callous, but that’s how it is. Sometimes not knowing is better than knowing.”
“Like us?” One corner of her lips hitched up.
“What do you mean?” His mouth went dry.
“I just mean…before, when I didn’t know what really happened when we were in college.”
“Oh.” What that how she felt? That he’d never told her the truth?
“That came out wrong. I just mean…I wish that…” She put her head down and sighed. “Can we rewind and do that over?”
“Sure.” Please…
She folded her arms and pillowed her cheek on her crossed forearms.
“I wish that you’d have never had to make the choices you did. That we would not have been forced into the situation we were. I get all tongue tied trying to talk about it. Rashae made me go to a counselor, and she always wants me to talk to her about it all—but I can’t. Rashae’s so crazy busy it’s impossible to just sit down and talk to her.”
Oliver circled the bar to stand next to her and wrap his arms around her.
“You can always talk to me. Or not talk to me.”
She pressed her hand against his arm and leaned her head on his.
“Thank you. I think…I think I need to.”
Samantha burrowed down deeper between Oliver and the sofa cushions. She was incredibly grateful for the oversized furniture, how it accommodated both of them. He didn’t protest, just stroked her arm, her back, her cheek. A comforting presence. His arms reminded her that she was here, in the now, and not back then when everything went to hell.
She hadn’t meant to talk about things. It’d just sort of…happened.
Now her insides were raw, but not in a bad way.
So much for the idea of having more quality skin-to-skin time. She didn’t have it in her for sex. Not after that emotional dumping.
“Was that your stomach?” She lifted her head and frowned at Oliver’s belly.
“Uh, yeah, sorry about that.”
“I guess you’re hungry?” She chuckled and turned her face to look at him.
“It’s that Chinese food, man, I’m always hungry a couple hours later.” He’d eaten another round mid-afternoon once they’d turned on the TV for a while.
She bit her lip.
The way he was looking at her…it made her nervous. It was all soft, and kind, and hopeful.
She still wasn’t sure if she had it in her to be the woman he needed. What they could be together. It wasn’t hard to guess where Oliver’s mind went, and that scared her.
They’d barely had any time together, either before the scandal or now. How could he be so certain? She wasn’t. Was she?
When she thought about her future, he was always part of it. Somewhere on the edges. She knew she wanted him to be part of her life, but was it the same as what he wanted?
She loved him. That much she knew. But was it enough?
“Do you want to go to dinner now?” she asked.
“Sure. Why don’t you use my bathroom and I’ll get ready in the hall bath?”
“Okay.”
They disentangled and set about sorting out what went where, and adjusting the reservation.
Maybe that would be good. Get them out of the apartment. They could slow down. She could catch her breath. He wouldn’t do anything in public, not after their track record. Then later, they could come back here. Spend a little more time together before the holidays really kicked up and they had to wear nice, happy smiles for the rest of the family.
She closed the door on the bathroom and leaned her back against the wall.
Oliver was planning something. She could see it in his eyes.
Damn.
Whatever it was, she wasn’t ready.
And that meant that after tonight they should slow down. She’d barely been able to admit that she missed him to his face. She’d finally uttered the word love to Rashae. That was about as far as she was ready to take things for now. He’d understand, wouldn’t he?
She hoped he did, because her heart couldn’t take any more upheaval in her life.
22.
Oliver opened the car to and helped Samantha out. He still could hardly believe they’d spent the whole day together.
The spark was still there.
They’d hung out, actually talked, cuddled, eaten, and watched Doctor Who most of the day. He still didn’t understand the show’s appeal, but Sam loved it, so he’d learn to. He’d gotten into the Sherlock miniseries a lot easier.
“This place is nice.” Sam wrapped her coat tighter around herself and stared at the restaurant.
“It’s still pretty new. I thought you’d like it.”
“How’d you find out about this place?”
“Lily tried to get me to meet her here.” He’d looked it up online. The inside was…romantic. Intimate. Not a place he wanted to go with Lily. He probably shouldn’t mention Lily at all, but it was the truth.
“How are things with my sister?”
“She calls me. I avoid her. It works out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
They entered the restaurant and were seated in a part of the dining room with more privacy, near a fireplace. He’d asked for that, knowing Sam would want to avoid public scrutiny. The weight of the box in his pocket felt like a one ton piece of lead. He was probably jumping the gun by bringing it with him, but if the moment presented itself, he wanted to be ready. It was important that he make it clear to Sam that he was completely on board with them, however long it took. When she was ready.
The question was, when was the right time?
They ordered dinner, talked about people they knew, things that had changed in her absence. It was like before all over again, now that they’d probed the painful memories. Now, they were back to those few, wonderful days when all they’d wanted to do was catch monsters and be together. The shadows were retreating from her eyes, she talked and laughed easier.
“Do you think you’ll come back to DC?�
� he asked toward the end of their meal. He hadn’t dared to hope, but the way she was talking…
“I don’t know.” She scooted her food around her plate. “Rashae and I discussed getting a bigger place together. I have a job there. And friends.”
“But?” He could hear the hesitance, the reservation in her voice.
“It’s not what I wanted to do. You know? It’s the same work, but not. I just don’t know who would hire me if I came back.”
“Would you switch houses? Out of the Senate? There’s a lot more representatives.”
“I totally could, you’re right.
“So moving back is…in the cards?”
“I don’t know. The house is rented. I’d have to get a job lined up. Somewhere to stay. All my stuff is in storage.”
He pushed his plate to the side.
This—he could fix this! There were solutions. Easy ones she wasn’t seeing. Maybe because she hadn’t thought of them? Or maybe because she didn’t want to ask? He didn’t mind putting it out there, talking it over.
“Here’s an idea.” He reached for her hand. “You could move in with me. I don’t need all that space.”
“My parents would flip out.” Sam’s face screwed up. She wasn’t rejecting the idea out of hand. That was good. Really good. “I know it’s old fashioned, but I don’t want to move in with someone I’m not married to. I’ve already disappointed Dad enough. I’m not Rashae. I don’t buck expectations like she does.”
“Okay, just—hear me out?” He dug in his pocket. This wasn’t romantic or sexy or what he’d envisioned, but it felt—right. It was an answer to the problem. A solution he’d already prepared. He set the box on the table and pried the lid open. “What if we got married? For real this time.”
Sam’s mouth opened, her jaw dropping, and her eyes wide.
“Oh—my God. Oliver…”
“Look, this wasn’t how I thought I’d do this—but, Sam? I want you in my life. I think we can make each other happy. I love you.” He wasn’t getting the reaction he’d expected. Her face was pale and she sucked in a deep breath. Sam was a thinker—he needed to appeal to her rational side. “And if our getting married serves a practical purpose, isn’t that better?”
“I…need a moment.” She pushed to her feet, clutch in hand, and rushed toward the ladies room.
That…could have gone better.
He stood, torn between following her and staying close, or giving her the space she so clearly wanted.
Well, crap.
Was it too soon?
Sometimes figuring out the mystery that was Sam was too damn hard.
He sat back down and pushed his food around his plate.
The plan made sense. They needed each other. After what they’d been through, they were uniquely suited for one another. Couldn’t she see that? And just because they discussed marriage, just because he was ready for it on her timetable, that didn’t mean they had to be engaged now. It was just…an option.
Shit.
He should have said that.
Oliver picked up the ring.
She was likely hyperventilating in the bathroom because he hadn’t gotten it all out right.
He stood outside the women’s restroom for several long minutes, but she never appeared.
One of the hostesses rounded the corner, arm outstretched.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” He hated to ask, but it’d been over fifteen minutes. What if Sam was having a panic attack or worse?
“Yes?” The woman’s brows rose.
“Can you see if there’s a woman named Samantha in there? If she’s okay?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. She wasn’t feeling well.”
Sort of a lie.
Oliver waited another few moments.
The hostess poked her head out the door, brow scrunched up.
“There’s no one in here.”
He stared at the woman, her words playing back slower.
No one was in the bathroom.
Sam was gone. Again.
Samantha didn’t recognize the late model sedan, but that was her sister in the passenger seat and that was all that mattered. The slick parking lot forced her to go slow or risk breaking her tailbone in a fall. Her teeth chattered and once more she cursed the dress. Her shoes.
Oh, God, Oliver asked her to marry her.
She climbed into the back seat of the strange car, relieved to be off her feet and thawing. Damn it. She was crying. Again. She swiped at her cheeks, hopefully before Rashae noticed.
There was a man she didn’t know behind the wheel. Weird. Sam was pretty certain she knew all of Rashae’s DC friends.
“What the hell happened?” Rashae twisted, staring back at her. “What did Oliver do?”
“Easy.” The man behind the wheel looked at Rashae and pulled into an empty parking spot.
She wanted to tell him to keep going, get her out of here, but she didn’t even have a name to call him.
“How about I get us all somethin’ hot to drink? Hm?” the mystery driver offered.
“No—sorry.” Sam pressed her fingertips to her mouth and inhaled a deep breath. Her brain was so scrambled she didn’t know where to start. What was wrong with her?
Oliver had proposed…
Oh God, and she’d just ran.
“This is Declan, Declan, this is Sam.”
“He proposed. For real this time.” Sam stared at her sister. The name of their driving friend registered, but it wasn’t important right now. She’d just left the man she loved, sitting at a table, waiting on her to come back. And she wasn’t going back.
“O…kay, so what happened?” Rashae glanced at Declan. She seemed…confused. What was there to be confused about Oliver proposing?
“I freaked. I walked out and then I was lost, and crying, and can you please not look at me?” People had stared at her, a few even asked if she was okay or needed help. She couldn’t take those looks anymore.
“Declan can drop us at the closest metro and we can head home.” Rashae turned to face forward.
“How about I take you home instead? It’s late,” Declan offered.
Sam wanted to kiss the man for the offer.
“That’s not necessary,” Rashae said.
“I’d appreciate it, if you really don’t mind.” If Sam had to hold it together for the metro ride home, then the long walk to the house… She’d freeze first. Her thoughts were too scrambled. She felt too much. And she couldn’t think when she felt. Nothing connected. Or made sense.
“Sam!”
“What? I’m—I need to calm down. I know it’s selfish I just…I’m sorry? Okay, we can walk. Forget I asked.” Sam reached for the door. God, she was screwing up right and left tonight.
“Stop it.” Rashae whirled around. “Declan, do you really not mind? I’ll pay for gas. I swear.”
Declan. Oh no. Declan. Of the board game. This was the game guy. And Sam was…she was whatever this was.
“Not a problem at all.” Declan shifted into reverse.
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Declan. I swear…it’s not normally like this.” Sam wrapped her jacket a little tighter around herself. He probably knew everything that was public knowledge. Her luck. Rashae had to be cursing her name right about now for mucking up her board game gig like this.
One nice thing about not living in DC was that people didn’t seem to care as much about the scandal. But when she was here, she had to wonder if the people looking at her had seen the pictures. How awkward would that be for Rashae if the guy she had to work with had seen Sam naked? God. Why had she come home?
They got the GPS going, and Declan hit the road, going slow and careful with all the Christmas traffic. No one spoke for a few minutes, which Sam appreciated. Rashae would demand an answer, but at least Sam had these moments to pull herself together a little. She couldn’t begin to sort out what she was thinking or feeling yet It’d all happened so fast…
Ra
shae flipped down the visor, looking at Sam in the mirror.
“Why did you walk out on Oliver?” Rashae asked.
“Because…I don’t know? I wasn’t expecting him to propose.”
“Why not? I was.”
“Seriously, Shae?”
Sam glared at Rashae. She always acted like she knew everything there was about anything. Sam loved Rashae, but she was a pain in the ass, too.
No pizza.
No carbs.
No sugar.
A big ‘ol pile of nope.
“What? It’s Christmas. More people get engaged now than at any other point in the year. Besides, you spend all your time talking to or about Oliver. I figured it was a matter of time.” Rashae crossed her arms over her chest.
Not true!
She’d only begun talking about Oliver because Rashae finally knew. If it weren’t for that, Sam wouldn’t have opened her mouth. She wouldn’t admit it, but having someone listen to her had helped her make sense of the complicated tangle of feelings. What was about Oliver, and what was about being separated, and what was about the chain of events that had put them here.
She shifted, trying to pull her skirt lower for a bit more warmth. Paper crinkled under her leg.
“What’s—this?” Sam made a face.
She pulled out a sheet of paper with an official state seal emblazoned on it, and the bold words, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services across the top. That was…Declan’s name.
“Are you immigrating?” Sam asked. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to leave everything and go to another country.
“Uh, yeah. January-somethin’, it’ll be official like.” He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it much.
“When were you going to mention that?” Rashae smacked his arm.
“It never came up?”
“How’s the game going? Tell me something good, please?” Sam relaxed back into the seat. She needed to get her mind off herself and this endless merry-go-round. Maybe diving into what Rashae and Declan were working on would help? How were they getting on after the disaster of their first meeting? If Sam could just sort out her thoughts, she’d know what she felt. Wouldn’t she?
Rashae began, slowly at first. Declan prompted her from time to time. Rashae would make a crack, Declan would laugh. He’d say something Sam could barely understand what with his accent, and Rashae would jump to a new detail. Sam watched the two, how Rashae would smack his shoulder, and when they were at a stop, he’d reach over to touch her.
The Jock and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 3) Page 19