“Samantha...”
“No. This is crap. You weren’t even going to tell Paris and Marianne, only they figured it out for themselves. Are you embarrassed by me or something, Alex?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. It’s just...not a good idea to broadcast my personal life all over the planet. You know how these things get blown out of proportion.”
He bent down to kiss her, but she turned her face away, resentful and hurt. She quickly rose from the bed, but Alex didn’t try to stop her. Samantha felt his eyes on her, watching her as she quietly slipped from the room.
Try as she might, She couldn’t understand his reluctance to declare his love. She felt it every day, was reasonably sure of it, but something deep within her also needed desperately to hear it.
She managed to avoid him most of the morning, and he didn’t try to approach her, but finally, while she was out on the terrace brooding, he came to her.
“You’re acting like a spoiled child,” he said gruffly, his patience nearly at an end. “Our friends’ll be back soon. Come in the house and behave yourself.”
Samantha caught her breath. Not for all the world would she admit defeat to those two, so she obeyed him. And though she felt betrayed, there was nothing else to do but carry on with this charade, with this parody of a couple in love.
Entering the house, she turned on him.
“Would it kill you to say you love me, Alex? What do you think I’m going to do, leak it to the press?”
She stormed into the study and slammed the door. In a flash, he was after her, for once disregarding a closed door. He, too, slammed himself inside, confronting Samantha, enraged.
“Just what the hell’s the matter with you?” he demanded. “Haven’t I proven I love you? Haven’t I said everything but that?”
Her heart pounding, Samantha nodded.
“Yes,” she agreed, irony in her voice. “You have. Everything but that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I need you to say it,” she told him plaintively.
Alex frowned, his lips pursed together. He went to her and held her, pitying her.
“Please don’t rush me, Samantha,” he begged. “I’ll say it in due time. Just don’t rush me.”
Samantha shut her eyes, trying hard to understand. She suspected it was due to his failed marriage, this reticence of his. She felt silly, for she knew in her heart Alex loved her, that he was simply afraid to say so, and she had to be patient.
Above all, she had to be patient.
For the rest of the day, Alex treated Samantha especially well, going to great lengths to display his devotion to her. After dinner, he took her for a walk around the rose garden while Paris and Marianne stayed behind to swim.
Samantha was wearing one of her pretty new dresses. She brought with her a basket and a pair of shears, and she gently clipped a few roses, careful not to crush the tender blossoms.
He snaked an arm around her waist and kissed her ear, sighing.
“My mother kept roses,” he told Samantha wistfully. “You remind me a little of her, so sweet and hopelessly romantic.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I thought that’s what you liked about me.”
“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he said, releasing her.
Samantha slowly turned to face him and he brushed her cheek with his fingertips.
“You’re like a china doll,” he told her, slipping the shears from her hand. “I’m always afraid I’m going to break you. I never wanted to cause you any pain, Samantha. I never planned any of this.”
“None of that matters, Alex.”
“It seems we were made for each other.”
“I know.”
“And yet...”
His voice trailed off and he broke their eye contact. Samantha, stung, felt once again she was being toyed with, and she jerked the shears from his hand and began furiously clipping roses to throw into the basket.
“Samantha, talk to me.” he pleaded.
She whirled around to confront him. “Oh, sure, Alex. Get a little closer, but not too close, right?”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Do you play this game for fun? It’s amazing, you know, how you can hold me so close and yet so far away from you all at the same time.”
Alex’s expression hardened.
“Damn it, I thought we settled all this earlier.”
Samantha brushed away a quick tear.
“How long ago did Jennie leave, Alex?”
He shifted his gaze.
“I don’t see what that’s got to do with this.”
“It’s got everything to do with this. How long?”
“How should I know? You were probably in kindergarten when it happened.”
Their glances met briefly.
“But I’m nearly twenty-four.”
“Right. That’s about how old I was when we got divorced.”
Reaching for him, Samantha placed a gentle hand on his forearm, heartbroken for him.
Jennie must have hurt him much more than she’d ever guessed if he was still carrying his grief around like this.
“You need to get over it now, Alex. Let me help you.”
“You are helping me, Samantha, but I still need more time.”
She sighed impatiently, not fully sure she could agree to such a request.
“How much more time do you need, Alex? Another year? Ten?”
He shrugged, unable to look her in the eye. She put down her basket and made a difficult choice.
“All right. All right, Alex. Go ahead and take your time, but there’s one thing. I’m not spending another night in your bed until you can forget about Jennie and commit yourself to me. There’s no way I’m about to compete with her memory.”
Picking up the basket, Samantha started away. Alex came after her, stopping her on the brick path, apprehension in his eyes. He directed her gaze toward the house, toward Marianne and Paris, who were still out on the terrace. She read the worried expression in his eyes.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Alex. We’ll keep the façade up. I’ll sleep in the study and they’ll never even guess.”
When she got to the terrace, the others were just toweling off. Samantha set the basket of roses on the table nearby, Alex just behind her.
“I just adore the way you guys live,” Marianne was saying. “It’s so romantic, all these gardens and flowers and things. I think I’ll get Paris to plant me a garden when we get home.”
Paris kissed Marianne’s shoulder and then he glanced up at Samantha. A broad grin swept his face.
“It’s true,” he told her. “You’re perfect for Alex. Really. And I’ve never even believed in such a thing.”
He came to her and put his arms around her, squeezing her tight, his eyes welling with tears, even.
“Thanks for reaching him, Samantha. I’ve never seen Alex so happy.”
Samantha glanced over Paris’s shoulder and met Alex’s glance. Betraying herself, she burst into tears and wriggled free of Paris’s embrace.
“Lover’s quarrel,” she heard him tell the others as she ran into his room and through to the study to lock herself inside.
A moment later, there was a knock at the door.
“Sweetheart, it’s me,” came Alex’s voice.
Miserable and limp with defeat, Samantha opened the door and let him in. She expected him to scold her for her behavior on the terrace, but he said nothing. Instead, he sat her down in his big, soft chair, the one he worked in. Kneeling down in front of her, he took her hands in his.
“Would you care to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Why should you get to be so happy when I’m so miserable?” she demanded.
Alex laid his forehead on her knee.
“Look, Samantha, I know you want to tell your parents about us, but I don’t think your dad’ll put up with anything less than an engagement, do you?”
Reflecting on this, Samantha was forced to shake her head.
“He’ll think I arranged this whole thing to get you into bed, and you have to know I didn’t. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know.”
Unable to help herself, she ran her fingers through his hair. He raised his head, looking mournful, and Samantha dried her eyes.
She let Alex draw her to her feet and his mouth sought hers, demanding satisfaction. Feeling weak, Samantha clung to him, her heart pounding wildly.
More than anything else, she was afraid to lose this passion, fearing she might never be able to recapture it.
True to form, Alex guided her toward the bedroom. Leading her inside, he stepped back just long enough to whisk back the heavy suede cover on the bed. The masculine scent of leather permeated the room for a brief moment as he rejoined her.
“No,” she whispered faintly, half-forgetting her vow not to make love to him again. Trembling, she tried desperately to resist him. He kissed her again, this time more aggressively. For a moment, Samantha feared she might give in, but with a deep breath, she regained some of her resolve and shoved him away.
“I can’t, Alex,” she insisted. “I meant what I said in the garden. I’ll sleep in the study tonight.”
Stiffening, Alex left her standing there alone. Samantha went back into the study and remained there the rest of the evening.
Grandma brought her a cup of tea later that evening, silent, afraid to ask what the trouble was, and for once, even Marianne left her alone.
Late that night, she heard Alex come into the bedroom and she glanced up.
He opened the door joining the two rooms and their glances met briefly.
“There are some extra blankets here in the chest,” he told her gruffly. “You can even have some of my pillows, if you’d like.”
Without a word, Samantha went and retrieved the bedding from his room, then she slipped into the bathroom to change for bed.
When she came out, she got onto her hands and knees and began arranging the blankets into a makeshift bed, her heart pounding once again.
Glancing through the open door to Alex’s bedroom, she saw that he was having his nightly cigar, was watching every single move she made. A stab shot through her heart as she saw the pain in his eyes.
Samantha knew she couldn’t sacrifice her own principles, though, not even to ease his pain. She’d only ever slept with two men her whole life - Alex and Randy.
Both of them had loved her in his own way, she believed.
Well, it was getting harder and harder to believe in Alex’s love and she despised casual sex, so there was no way she’d be getting back into his bed until she sincerely believed in his love.
“Damn you, Samantha, would you quit being so stubborn and come to bed?” he asked. “I swear to God I won’t touch you.”
Ignoring him, she went on fixing her bed.
She knew she couldn’t possibly spend the night next to him - even in a bed as large as his - and come away unscathed, so she ignored him.
“What do you want from me, Samantha?”
“Love.”
“I don’t have any love to give. Why can’t you be like the rest of the women and chase me for my money? I’ve got plenty of that.”
“Because I’m stupid.”
He was standing next to her now, she felt his presence.
“I knew this was going to happen,” he told her. “Damn it, Samantha, come to bed. You’re the one who wanted all this, not me.”
Mortified, she stared up at him.
“And what were you? My victim?”
“How many times could I take it, the way you threw yourself at me?”
With a gasp, Samantha rose to her feet, anger coursing through her veins. Before she knew it, she flew up at him and slapped his face hard.
Alex caught her up in his arms before she had time to get away and, for a second, she was afraid he meant to hit her back. She tried desperately to wrest herself away, but in the end, to her immense relief, he merely wrapped his arms tightly around her, pinning her securely to his chest.
“Oh, Samantha, I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “That wasn’t fair of me to say.”
Her hands were trembling and she wished she could think of some witty comeback, but nothing came to her and Alex, sensing the fight had gone out of her, eased his vice-like grip on her.
“Please forgive me, sweetheart.”
Steeling herself, she stiffened in his arms.
“Go to bed and leave me alone, damn you.”
And Alex, defeated, crept alone to his bed, leaving Samantha to her floor.
Come morning, Samantha’s body was stiff and sore from lying on the hard floor all night, but she had managed to stay out of Alex’s bed. When she finally emerged from his bedroom (she’d gone through the adjoining door and through his room) it was clear Marianne and Paris were oblivious to the truth and believed she and Alex had patched up their differences.
Neither of them bothered setting the other couple straight. Instead, they behaved pleasantly and politely in front of their friends, never once airing their grievances or revealing the truth by so much as a word or a look.
They’re going home tomorrow anyway, Samantha told herself. Surely we can get through one more night.
She avoided Alex as much as she reasonably could without being too blatant about it. For her own protection, she kept near at least one of their guests at all times. This strategy worked out pretty well for her, and after lunch, Marianne came out into the garden to sit with her. Samantha, at peace there and unencumbered by her worries, fell to daydreaming.
“You’re smiling,” Marianne remarked after a while. “What are you thinking about?”
Samantha told her friend about the centipede bite and the way Alex had looked after her, nursing her wound.
“He told me I was beautiful,” she sighed wistfully, feeling a vague twinge of pain. She thought back over the past few weeks, and particularly to her own failed plan to seduce Alex.
“Maybe he’s right,” she muttered. “Maybe I have thrown myself at him.”
“Well, try not to worry about it,” Marianne told her. “I’m sure everything will be okay.”
The rest of the day passed far too quickly to suit any of them. Both couples lingered long over the dinner table, each conscious of the impending separation.
Samantha, suddenly feeling generous toward Alex again, realized she was, indeed, partly to blame for the way things had turned out.
After all, she’d never made his loving her a prerequisite to their sleeping together. She just assumed it would all work out.
“You know, Samantha,” said Marianne, “I could talk to your dad for you. I could explain how things are.”
“No. No, don’t.”
“Why not?”
Samantha sat back in her chair and took a sip of wine. She slipped her hand under the table and rested it on Alex’s knee, casting a long, meaningful glance at him.
“Things just don’t work out for me like that, Marianne. I have to let nature take its own course, where you can force things to happen. If this is meant to be...”
Squeezing his thigh, she glanced over at Alex again.
“If this is meant to be, then I guess it’ll just happen.”
Thankfully, they changed the subject and the four of them sat up late, loath to part from one another. But in the end, fatigue forced them all to bed.
Al
ex closed the bedroom door and Samantha went straight through to the study where she began making a bed for herself on the floor again.
“What’s all this?” asked Alex, bewildered.
“My bed.”
“I don’t get it. At dinner you said - ”
“I know,” she answered, cutting him off. “I’ve decided not to be angry with you anymore, but I’m still not sleeping with you.”
He sat down hard on the edge of the bed.
“I swear to God, I’ve never met such a hard-headed woman in my life.”
Samantha stopped what she was doing for a moment and looked him in the eye.
“Oh, Alex, I love you more than I care to admit, but I also love myself. I have to do what’s right for me.”
He leaned forward then and tipped the connecting door shut, effectively shutting her out.
Just one more night, she thought, and then I’ll have my own room back.
She heard Alex rummaging about in his room and smelled the sweet aroma of his cigar. For a long time, she lay there, hoping against hope that she was doing the right thing.
Morning came too soon for Samantha. Her neck ached from sleeping in the wrong position and she felt as if she’d gone into battle during the night, so stiff and sore she felt. Terrible dreams had haunted her all through the night, dreams of loss and abandonment. Several times, she even woke herself with her own anguished cries.
Trying her best to be cheerful, Samantha ate breakfast with the others and even helped Marianne get her things together.
“This is a great room,” Marianne told Samantha, looking around one more time in admiration. “You are such a lucky girl.”
“So are you.”
Marianne shook her head, humble for a change.
“No. Not like you. Paris’ll never love me the way Alex loves you, with such depth and passion. You guys really have something here, something real. I’m so glad you’ve made up with him.”
Samantha smiled wanly, wishing she could share her awful secret with Marianne, but she dared not. Instead, she let her friend remain blissfully unaware of the truth.
She thought her heart would break when it was finally time to take their guests to the airport. She knew she’d be alone with Alex again, and he was certain to ignore her, was certain to begin avoiding her anew.
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