“I don’t know. You’ve seemed a little stressed yourself lately. Thought maybe you could use it, too.”
“I’ve been griping about the kids too much, haven’t I?” she asked. “I’m sorry.”
“Lose the apology, would ya?”
Oh, he had to go and look at her in that sweet, honest way that made her organs dissolve. “You know, I’m really about ready to find something wrong with you! It’s worrying me, like I’m going to find out you have five wives, or you’re a serial killer or something.”
“Since you brought it up. . . .” His best Anthony Hopkins wasn’t very good. “I have had a yen for your liver, with some fava beans and a nice chianti.”
She scrunched up her face and laughed. “Okay, that was downright creepy.”
“Oh God,” he said with apprehension. “Tell me you’ve seen Silence of the Lambs.”
“Uh, yeah. If I hadn’t, I’d be tearing through that door right about now,” she answered. “And I do believe my Yoda was better than your Hopkins.”
“Ohhh.” He chuckled. “I beg to differ with you, beautiful.”
Sophie reached over and touched his face, silently conveying how sorry she was about Abby. They remained this way for a few seconds before he pulled her into his arms. They held onto each other for a long while, his embrace unyielding. Tension filled his body, and she realized he had been containing his grief after all. She hoped he wasn’t crying. If he was, she’d be right there with him. She was the biggest sympathy crier ever.
He let her go and rubbed her arms. “Are you cold? You feel like ice.”
“Maybe a little.”
Sam gathered the throw from the back of the couch. He was quiet, pensive, as he draped the blanket around her shoulders. She inched in closer, as close to him as she possibly could, before trying to kiss away the miserable day. His five o’clock shadow bristled against her cheek. The scent of his skin enlivened her—she would have buried herself within his very heart if she could. Welcoming her advances, he eased back into the sofa, gently pulling her with him. Wishing only to sustain the gaze of those hazel eyes, her mouth scarcely brushed his, their breath intermingling.
She was tired of forcing herself to wait. It was time. If things fell apart, they fell apart.
Damn. This could have been perfect, if only his dog hadn’t just died.
“Sam, I know this is bad timing, but would it be really out of line for me to want to ravish you right now?”
He grinned boyishly. “Are you kidding?”
“So you’re saying it’s weird.”
“Well, yes. It is weird,” he teased. “But what I meant was, are you kidding, thinking there would ever be a time I wouldn’t want you. I want you . . . always.”
That persistent sense of familiarity flashed through her, but this time, it was much too fast, too fleeting, for an image to attach itself. “That was a good answer.”
Sam scooped her up and whisked her away to the bedroom. When they reached his room, he laid her on the bed and added, “Besides, I know Abby would approve.”
“I love that you’re such a goof.”
“And I. . . .” He paused, as if debating whether to continue. “Ah, the hell with it. I’m just gonna come out with it.” He pressed his lips to hers. “I love you.”
She could have squealed like a schoolgirl, but all that came out was, “Really?” Seriously? That’s all you give him in response, you bonehead?
He nodded emphatically. “Really.” He reached over to turn on the satellite radio, then wiggled his brows at her, an impish little sparkle in his eyes.
Lordy, can he be any more adorable?
“Well, that makes me very happy. Because I love you, too. But just a little bit,” she added, squeezing the space between her finger and thumb.
He slowly unfastened the buttons on her shirt while an old timer crooned on Pandora. “Then I’ll have to remedy that. It’s not right that I’m holding only part of your heart, while you’re holding all of mine.” His palm rested on her chest as he kissed her sweetly. Her heart drummed wildly beneath his fingers. But she also knew the drill—it was always like this in the beginning. The rush, the excitement, and she was not about to let her words run away with her, gushing everything she felt. Even if he was deserving of the adoration.
She lay in the balmy grass, and he was there with her. They were young, in their twenties. Underneath her was something soft, a blanket. It was raining, and they were both naked from the waist up. There was a trace of her red lipstick on his mouth as his face hovered above hers. He bent down to kiss her, and the chill of the dog tags that hung from his neck met her skin. She shivered. Whether it was from the cold metal on her flesh, the summer rain, or his touch, she wasn’t sure. Were they married? Just lovers?
“Sam!”
“What?” he asked, startled.
She sat up in bed. “I have to tell you something. Or ask you something.”
He leaned on one arm, concern in his face. “Go ahead.”
This was it. She was finally going to broach this bizarre topic, and she would find out if he was only playing along that first time they kissed, when she reacted so strangely. What if he really didn’t see anything at all, but was just making it up so she would believe they had some sort of unique connection? Or what if when she told him all that she’d been experiencing, he thought she was some kind of nutcase?
“That night you had me over for dinner,” she began. “The night we first kissed, you said you saw someplace you hadn’t been before, but it was familiar.”
“I did.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Right now?” he asked, somewhat apprehensive.
“Please?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can you tell me why it’s so important to you?”
“I definitely will—after you share.”
“O-kay.” He exhaled.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act like this, Sam. So nervous. Why?”
“Never mind,” he answered. “I think it was a farm.” He stared upward, recalling the image. “A field . . . a lot of yellowish grass. I didn’t see you.” He paused before meeting her eyes. “But it felt like you were there.”
She let herself drop back onto the bed, and again, the inexplicable tears.
Sam placed his hand on her bare stomach. “What? Tell me, for cryin’ out loud.” He shook his head. “I knew it. It had nothing to do with anything . . . I’ve been watching you, Sophie. You’ve been keeping something to yourself. You’ve put all this importance on my answer about it, and now you think I was playing you.”
Out of nowhere, she started to laugh. He called it. That was exactly what she had been afraid of, except he had no idea his answer evoked a response different from the one he perceived.
She sat up and took his hand. “No,” she said softly. “I want to know, how many times have you seen that place?”
A wave of realization rippled across his face. “Why? Why do you want to know this?”
“Because I’ve seen that same place you did. Several times!” For reasons she didn’t understand, he frowned. He must have thought she was being ridiculous. “Look, Sam, I’ve never been one who’s especially fascinated by coincidence, or the possibility of former lives, or any of that. But, damn! I have seen you. And I don’t get why you—Mr. Open-minded, we’re all one guy—seem so uneasy about this.”
“I’m not uneasy about it. I’m uneasy talking to you about it.”
She was really confused. “But why?”
He raked his hand through his hair and lay back on the bed, gazing at the ceiling. “You’re going to take it the wrong way.”
“No, I won’t. Just tell me.”
He turned toward her and sighed. “It’s because you’re a woman.”
“Wha-a-a-t?” She laughed. “What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t have a problem with the possibility that we’ve known each other before. I don’t know that we have, I’m j
ust sayin’. But, because you’re a woman, and I mean no offense by this, you’re going to think we’re destined to be together forever because of these things that you’ve seen.”
Now she was starting to feel hurt. Was he saying he didn’t care if they stayed together?
“See? You’re already taking offense.” He sat up, putting his hand on the nape of her neck and pulling her face close to his. “What I’m trying to say, and not very well, is that I want you to think we should be together because of the way you feel about me. Not because of some farm we both saw in a dream.”
With a slight smile, she nodded. “Okay. I think I get it. Just . . . Can I ask you one more question?”
His fingers caressed her arm. “As long as you leave your shirt off, yes, you can ask me one more question.”
Giving him a scowl, she pushed him onto his back. Then she settled on her stomach beside him, propping herself on her elbows. “That field. Have you seen it more than once?”
“I haven’t. But you say you have?”
She described the various scenarios she had seen, including the one in the rain.
“I have to say, I like that one the best,” he said after he heard the details.
“It was by far, my favorite,” she agreed. “So, it was just the one time for you? That’s it?”
“Just once with the vision.” He rolled onto his side, preoccupied with other thoughts, his fingertips lightly brushing over the skin on her back.
“That tickles,” she said with a quiver.
He was being infinitely patient with all her questions, especially since this whole discussion had interrupted such an intimate moment. “But,” he continued, “more than once, I’ve had the feeling I already knew you. You probably don’t remember that night in the convenience store. Our hands touched when I opened the cooler for you. I felt it then.”
She was speechless for a moment. “Un . . . freaking . . . believable. It’s like we’re in a movie or something! Don’t you feel like you’re in a movie?”
He brought his hand to his chin, exaggerating an air of deep contemplation. “I do feel like I’m in a movie. But for some reason, I thought this was the part where the man and woman ravish each other.” His lips found their way to her back.
She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not letting you get off that easy.” She rested her cheek on the cool sheets, relishing in his absorption with her.
“I think you’d be surprised by how easily you get me off.” His mischievous tone gave her goose bumps as he moved her hair aside to kiss her shoulders, the back of her neck. “I don’t think I want to ravish you, though. Maybe savor is a better word.”
Yeah, he was good at this seduction thing. “I had to go and fall for an English teacher.” She groaned. “You’ve got a way with words, Sam, and your moves aren’t bad, either.” She rolled over so she could see him. “How is a geeky computer nerd supposed to compete?” She was the first to admit she was not good at expressing herself, even nonverbally. Afraid she would come across as corny or insincere, when it came to matters of the heart, she had a history of keeping her mouth shut.
“There’s nothing to compete with,” he said. “If all computer nerds had eyes like those, I’d be in a world of hurt.”
Enthralled, it was as if he was taking her in for the first time, and she had no idea how to respond to such intensity. She managed to hold his gaze, hoping she could express how completely enamored she was without having to say it. After all, it was much safer than risk sounding like an idiot. She would leave the eloquence to the one who was good at it, and pray he didn’t feel he was left hanging.
The corners of his mouth curved up as he got the gist.
Time and space evaporated as she lost herself in this man. Oh, how she had missed him. Missed? Was that the right word? Oddly, it was the first one that came to mind. His heart inches from hers, their fingers intertwined and lips met tenuously, eyes saying things words could not.
He filled and enveloped her in one fell swoop. Under his touch, she willed herself not to cry. Her chest swelled with joy, making it difficult to breathe, and exultant tears threatened to unleash themselves. How and when did she turn into this gelatinous creature? So this is what it was like. . . .
Sam stilled and closed his eyes, resting his forehead to hers. “As Time Goes By” drifted through the room as his fingers lightly touched her hair, and the weight of the moment was more than she could take. She wasn’t prepared for this. How could she have prepared herself for something she’d never known? Don’t lose it, Sophie. Must contain emotions.
Sam remained motionless, his face still pressed to hers. “Sophie,” he whispered. “You have me undone.” The ache in his voice pierced her to the core, the hammering in his chest matching her own. She longed to see his eyes, but he kept them shut. He swallowed hard, and then skimmed his fingertips along her jawline.
And that’s when the tears escaped. She had always thought the idea of crying during sex pretty comical, and now here she was, ready to give him everything. Even her ridiculous tears. If her mother had posed the age old question, If Sam told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it? her prompt reply would be, Yes, Mom. Yes, I would.
Sam brushed her cheek with his thumb, cupping the sides of her face as he moved inside her.
There was no way this was level playing ground. No one had ever made her feel this way. No one. What a fool to believe she would be okay if things fell apart.
Fifteen
Sophie’s mother was hosting one of her fabulous Christmas dinners. Abby’s sister and her family were all in attendance, as well as two of Abby’s friends. Her Aunt Doris was also present. At ninety-four years old, she had all of two teeth in her head. How she managed to put away a holiday dinner was one of life’s mysteries, but she could do it.
“Sweetie, would you keep an eye on the gravy for me?” Abby asked Sophie as she pulled the turkey from the oven.
“How can I help?” Sam asked.
“You are not helping. You are a guest.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Take your drink and park yourself somewhere.”
He snuck up behind Sophie and put his arms around her waist. “I get to sit down with a beer. You get to stir gravy.”
“Keep it up, dude. I’ll make you do dishes with me later,” she said.
Abby turned from basting the turkey. “No, you won’t.”
Sam shrugged and made his way into the living room.
Evie wandered in and out of the kitchen to collect the side dishes for the dining table, in between taking sips of wine.
“Evie’s drinking?” Sophie asked Abby under her breath. She had noticed some definite tension between her and Christian tonight, although Evie had been giving off a forced enthusiasm.
“Yes.” Abby gave Evie a sideways glance. “I think she and Christian had a fight. She’s not going easy on that vino.”
“What are we talking about?” Evie came up alongside them, glass in hand. “And Sophie, don’t give me that look. I never get to drink, and it’s the holidays.”
“Okay.” Sophie raised her hands in submission.
“So,” Evie continued, “I haven’t had the chance to talk to you alone yet, and I’ve been dying to ask. You and Sam did it, didn’t you?”
Sophie dropped the spoon into the gravy.
Abby moved in closer and asked in a whisper, “Did you?”
Sophie smiled and used a fork to fish the spoon out.
“I knew it, Mom,” Evie said. “I could tell.”
“Oh please!” Sophie heard her voice getting higher. “How could you possibly tell?”
Evie responded with a low, knowing laugh. “Oh, it’s obvious.”
“Psh. You are so full of it.”
“Well?” Evie persisted. “I’m assuming it was great?” Abby leaned in once again, not wanting to miss anything as she prepared the turkey.
“Could we please just. . . .” Sophie began. “I am not talking about this now.”
Sophie’
s young cousin, Aaron, strolled into the kitchen with a little black box in his hand. “Aunt Abby, check out my fart machine.” He pushed a button on the separate remote, causing it to emit a variety of gaseous sounds.
“Oh, how lovely,” Abby said half-heartedly. “And where did you get that?”
“Santa put it in my stocking.”
“Santa got you a fart machine . . . Wonderful! And your mom let you bring it to dinner. Even better yet.”
“No,” Aaron answered with a grin. “She doesn’t know I brought it. You have to let me play a trick on Aunt Doris. Where is she gonna sit?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Abby protested weakly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“C’mon, Mom,” Evie persuaded. “It would be so funny.” She was obviously feeling that wine.
Sophie nodded with her in agreement.
“Both of you?” Abby asked in shock. “Girls, I’ve got friends here. And Sophie, what about Sam? This is his first time meeting your family. Aren’t you afraid he’ll think we’re weird?”
“Nope. He has a warped sense of humor.”
Abby deliberated, holding her hand to her chest.
“Please, Aunt Abby?” Aaron begged.
She waved her hand, signaling her surrender, and turned back to the food preparation.
Later that evening, everyone seated themselves in the dining room. Sophie’s mother had a knack for the finishing touches—candles, poinsettias, crystal goblets, elegant place cards. But then again, Abby was an interior designer.
“Wow, your mom really knows how to put out a spread.” Sam took the seat beside Sophie while she kept a curious eye on Evie and Christian sitting across from them. She noticed Christian occasionally touching Evie’s shoulder or knee, only to have her squirm uncomfortably. They barely said two words to each other the entire night.
“So, Christian,” Abby began, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your gallery show the other night, but how did it go?”
Evie gulped down the rest of her wine and headed for the kitchen with her empty glass.
“Um, it was good. I actually sold two—”
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