“Dammit,” she hisses, looking at her watch. “It’s past midnight.”
I look down at my own watch in shock. She’s right. We’ve been sitting here talking for going on four hours and it feels like no time at all as passed. Looking around, I see the coffee shop employees starting their closing routine and realize we’re the last ones here. With utmost reluctance, we drain our coffee cups, apologize to the employees for staying so late, and head out into the parking lot. This is it. The last I’m going to see of this girl. And that thought is enough to depress me. I walk her to her truck, my hands stuffed in my jacket pockets, trying to find some way to delay the inevitable. Judging by her very unhurried pace, so is she.
“Well,” I say quietly as she leans against the truck door. “Thank you for having more than one cup of coffee with me. I hope I didn’t frighten you too much.”
She smiles shyly, biting her lip as she reflexively reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not too much,” she teases. “Thank you for convincing me to have coffee with you.”
“My pleasure,” I tell her sincerely. Normally this would be the point at which I lean in and kiss her, possibly pressing her against her truck door, then somehow getting her somewhere private so we can continue. Not this time, though. Not with this girl. She deserves better treatment than that.
After an awkward, reluctant goodbye, I start back towards my car. I’m trying to think of anything that would let me have just another minute of conversation with her. I spin around on my heel and stop her before she closes her door. “Samantha!” I call. She looks up with what looks to be relief and hope. “You never answered my question.”
Her brow furrows. “What question?”
“Is Tom your boyfriend?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh,” she says, smiling slowly. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. Just a good friend.”
I grin. “Do you have a boyfriend?” I’m suddenly very certain of her answer. And pleased. Very pleased.
“No.”
I walk back over to her, reaching into my wallet, then the pocket inside my jacket for a pen. “Well, in that case,” I say, turning around my business card and writing down my cell and private email address before handing it to her. She looks at it in surprise, smiling. “Let me know if you want to have another cup of coffee. Or four.”
She tucks the business card into the back pocket of her jeans. I’ve never been more jealous of a business card in my life. Reaching into her truck, I hear her rip a piece of paper from something. She turns around to face me again, taking my pen right out of my hand. I grin. “In case you want another plate of Chet’s roast beef or apple crumble.”
I look at the slip of paper, my grin widening at her neat, even handwriting. Sam. She didn’t write Samantha. She wrote Sam. Very fitting. “I’ll keep that in mind, Sam,” I say softly. She seems pleased that I’m using her nickname and I have the sudden urge to kiss her. I only hesitate until I see her eyes darting to my lips and make my decision and press my lips gently against hers. They’re soft and seem to mold to mine immediately. She tastes of coffee and strawberries and something else I can’t identify. Not really a taste I would normally consider alluring, but everything about Sam seems to be going against my norm. When we part, her eyes are wide, as are mine, and she seems to be in shock. Running the backs of my fingers down her cheek, I peck her lips one last time. “Goodnight, Sam. Sleep well.”
She nods dazedly. “You too,” she says breathily.
With that, I turn away and return to my car, carefully tucking her phone number into my wallet.
Yeah, there is no chance that she’s going to be out of my system any time soon. Now I just have to figure out how to get her in further.
-------------o-------------
Present day. Location classified.
There haven’t been many moments in my life that I’ve considered to be truly surreal. My marriage to Sam. The birth of our son. It’s a very short, yet very significant list. I always thought that something one might consider to be surreal had to be a good thing, one that makes you so happy your heart tries to burst from your ribcage. This is not one of those moments. It’s surreal, there’s no doubt about that, but it is not a happy moment and it sure as hell isn’t making me smile.
I’ve been sitting in this shitty motel room for days, my eyes glued to the television and the coverage of the plane crash. I honestly hadn’t believed this would actually work or that anyone would believe I had been there. My picture is everywhere I look—American television, the local news—and all I can think about is how my family is reacting to all of this. I know this is hurting them, but considering the turn things have taken, I didn’t see any other option. More often than not, my thoughts are focused on Samantha and Tyler. I hate the thought of her in pain, and the thought that she’s probably crying herself to sleep at night, if she’s sleeping at all, positively wrecks me.
My phone is sitting on the bedside table, the battery beside it, and the number of times I’ve woken in the middle of the night with the desperate urge to call her is in the hundreds. But I can’t call her. I can’t contact her. At least not yet. Not until I know what the fuck is going on. All of the electronics I own are unplugged, their own batteries removed—laptop, tablet, even my electric shaver. I can’t risk being tracked right now and any of those things could be used in that manner.
I’m on constant alert. Every time a shadow walks past the window of my room, I’m braced for a fight. A couple times I’ve actually found myself standing beside the door, the pistol I picked up in my hand, waiting for an entry attempt. No one knows I’m here aside from the motel owner, and with the stack of cash I slipped him, he’s not telling a soul.
How the fuck did it get this far? These were people I trusted with my life and the lives of my family. I’m still trying to zero in on a single suspect, and I really don’t like the direction in which the evidence is leading me.
I want this over with. I want to go home, hold Samantha and Tyler, take them home with me where they belong, and never let them go again. When my mind starts to relax against the dangers surrounding me, they return to the night I spent with Sam. Nothing has ever felt more right than it had that night. Her in my arms, reacting to every single touch. Now that was surreal. I never thought I’d have that again and I will never be able to properly explain to her what it meant to me. I was reminded that night of the incredible connection that had been between us when we first met, the draw that kept me wanting, needing more from her. I haven’t had that connection with anyone before or since Samantha, no matter how much I tried.
Natalie was damn close. Theoretically, she was as perfect for me as Samantha, and I did love her, but when I woke up one morning and looked beside me to where she was sleeping so beautifully and peacefully, my thoughts turned to Sam, and I realized I would always be comparing the two of them. Worse than that, Natalie could never completely fill the hole that was left in me when Samantha left and I knew right then I had to end things; it wouldn’t have been fair to either of us if I hadn’t. Much to my surprise, Natalie was very understanding about the whole thing. She’d said she’d known for a while I wasn’t completely committed to the relationship and admitted she’d been willing to ignore that in order to be with me. I broke her heart that day and I only felt a modicum of guilt over it. We’re still friends. We talk occasionally and we’ve managed to maintain a professional relationship.
After Natalie, there was a string of women in and out of my life. None of them stayed long, a month or so, before I cut them from my life. They were with me for one purpose—for them, I showered them with money and gifts; for me, it was all about sexual gratification. Before Samantha, I’d had a slight reputation as a ladies’ man that I tried to ignore. I never had a girlfriend for long and there was never any real emotional attachment, at least not on my part. I think a lot of that was sparked by what Lucy did to me. My blood still boils at the thought of finding her in bed with that douchebag. The only thing tha
t kept me from beating the shit out of him and landing myself in jail was Leo. He’d been home on leave that weekend and had dragged me out of that apartment by my neck. My family was upset over my breakup with Lucy—Mom and Claire because she’d ripped my heart out and stomped all over it; Dad, Holly, and Liz because they’d positively adored her and thought it was a huge mistake for me not to forgive her transgression of cheating on me.
Where I was constantly comparing Natalie to Samantha, those three were constantly comparing Samantha to Lucy, and I know they never really liked her. I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to me was Sam, her happiness, and the fact that she saw through all my faults and loved me as much as I loved her. Love her.
The day I showed up outside Tom’s house in Omaha, the day I had to involve Sam in all this trouble, was one of the most nerve-wracking days I’ve ever experienced. All throughout the decision-making process, I repeatedly reminded myself that I’d promised her to stay out of her life. She wanted the chance to raise our son without the concern of professional threats constantly popping up. Since I would have done anything to make her feel safe and comfortable, I went along with it. It had to be her decision, without any of my influence. Of course I wanted her to stay. Of course I hated myself for letting her walk away. But it was in the best interest of both her and my son for her to do so and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if something had happened to them. I convinced myself it was better that way and did my best to keep my distance. The few times I flew to Omaha just to watch her for a few hours... I wanted to do something so she realized I was there, but I refrained. She seemed happy enough. She and Tyler were safe.
Seeing her that day when she opened the door, so many emotions running through the both of us, my instinct was to push into the house, press her against the nearest wall, and lose myself in her. Again, I refrained. She knew on first sight why I was there—it was plain in her eyes—and I wanted to postpone the moment when I confirmed her worst thoughts as long as possible. She was as beautiful as I’d remembered, though she was thinner and had a permanent look of sadness in her eyes. Granted, this was about how she looked when I first set eyes on her, but it seemed worse, especially knowing the sadness was caused by the same thing that caused me countless sleepless nights. It was that moment I knew she and I needed each other far more than what I originally believed. We needed each other if we were to have any chance at happiness.
Entering Tom’s house didn’t exactly improve my mood. It was a nice place, but not where Sam and Ty belonged. Clearly he did everything he could to take care of them and that was a good thing, but it was my job to take care of them. Not his. And the photos on the wall. Seeing my son grow from the gorgeous, happy baby to a toddler and beyond was nearly overwhelming. In every photo, he was smiling widely, his arms wrapped around his mother’s neck when they shared the frame, and he was my clone. I could open any one of my mother’s photo albums from when I was a child and see Tyler looking back at me. I knew nothing of this little boy, the one that was always on the small side and remained so now. I wasn’t there for his first word, the first time he walked, his first tooth. I didn’t teach him to ride a bike or play catch. I never had the chance to read him a bedtime story.
The night she called to tell me someone was outside her house, I very nearly became unhinged. I knew how very close the threat was getting to them, but I didn’t realize they’d worked out where to find Samantha and Tyler. And I was far enough away from them that if we hadn’t acted as quickly as we had, they could have been abducted or hurt, all because of a tiny fucking chip my company developed. I needed my family in my sights and there was no hesitation to give the order to bring them, and Saunders, to my hotel. There was even less hesitation to bring them back to New York with me.
And then there was everything that happened while they were in my home. The kiss between me and Sam in my office that brought me back to life. The need to separate myself from her before we did something she would regret in the morning. Coming home in the middle of the night only to leave again after hearing the unmistakable sounds of sex in the guest bedroom where Sam and Saunders were sleeping. My first instinct had been to rush in there, yank the bastard off of her, beat the shit out of him, then show her how a man is supposed to pleasure a woman. I refrained and left again. When I’d eventually returned home hours later, I stood outside the bedroom with no idea what I was doing there. I talked myself into returning to my own bedroom and tried to rid my brain of what I’d heard a few hours before.
Then after what Saunders pulled and how I felt there was no other choice than to send Sam and Tyler to my sister’s. I believed they were safe there and they were until the night Claire’s house was broken into. I’d never made that trip so quickly and my ears are still ringing from Claire’s chewing out. There hadn’t been a single point she’d been wrong about: I shouldn’t have sent Samantha away the way I did, no matter what she told Tom Saunders about me. I should have been around to protect my family. I shouldn’t have brought them into this again. And what the fuck was I thinking when I let her leave in the first place.
During the hour or so that I spent sitting at Sam’s bedside, watching her sleep, I realized just how much I’d lost when she and Tyler left. She was my addiction, one I never saw myself giving up, and in one evening, she was gone and took our son with her. I spent weeks fighting the urge to go to her and beg her to come back. I refused to speak to my father and older sisters, because all they did was cut her down, telling me she wasn’t good enough for me, and that I should seek full custody of Tyler. That was never an option for me. A boy belonged with his mother. I could function without them—barely—and they were the ones who needed support. Besides, Samantha would have never forgiven me if I’d done something as foolish as try to take Tyler away from her.
I realized how fed up I was with how I was living my empty shell of a life. Nothing held any real importance to me and I wanted meaning to my life again. It was then I decided that whatever it took, I would fight to get my family back. I would convince Samantha to give me another chance and this time I wouldn’t let anything come between us. Hell, I’d take a backseat in my company to alleviate some of the danger if that’s what it took.
I finally admitted the truth that night, both to her and to myself. I told her what she means to me, what she’s always meant to me, and that I want a life with her. I made love to her and she to me, and I’ve fallen asleep every night since remembering how she held me against her, moved with me, the sounds she made.
Goddamn. How much longer am I going to sit here away from the woman who means most to me? All it’s doing right now is hurting her. Hurting me. According to the latest news reports my “funeral” is in two days. And I damn well plan on being there, even if I’m the only one who knows it.
13
I feel like a dick doing this, pushing my way through shrubbery and trees wearing jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and sunglasses, and arriving at the edge of the trees exactly where I’d hoped I would. A crowd is already gathering, all of them dressed in black and somber expressions on their faces. Facing a dozen rows of chairs are several displays of flowers and in the center is a large photo of yours truly. I wonder vaguely who chose it; not really one of my best, but I’m in a suit and tie and I think I recognize it as one taken after a business meeting a year or so ago. There aren’t a lot of photos of me dressed like that and whoever chose it probably had to sift through piles of others just to find it.
Shaking my head and wondering if my family knows me at all—I’m leaning towards not, if they think me in a suit and tie is how I want people to say goodbye to me—I scan the crowd of people already arrived. Samantha isn’t here yet, but then neither is Claire. I don’t know why I’m doing this; even for me it’s a bit dramatic. But in order to get the answers I need, I have to see the reactions of the people closest to me. It’s all very Tom Sawyer, watching my own funeral, and with slightly different circumstances, this might even be fun. As it is
, I’m watching my parents, sisters, and their husbands arrive and walk across the lawn, and I’ve never been less amused in my life. My mother has tears streaming down her face and is sandwiched between my father and Claire. Though I’m still quite a ways away from them, I think my dad might also be crying. I’ve never seen him cry and it breaks my heart that he’s doing it now because of a lie.
Still I don’t see Samantha and I start to wonder if she’s going to show up. I can’t imagine her not attending my funeral, no matter how difficult it must be for her to even consider it. The hairs on my arm stand as my partners in the company and security team arrive, Leo in the lead. I scan all their faces, searching for a hint of anything suspicious. Leo is taking this as hard as my family and of all the people I’m hurting with this, he’s the one I’m most worried about. When it comes down to it, I’m all he has, even though I know my family wouldn’t leave him on his own after everything he’s been through. He doesn’t have family of his own. His mother died when he was eight and his father is in prison somewhere. The fact that our paths crossed at all was nothing less than fate. I truly believe that.
Within minutes, every seat is full and I’m slightly surprised by the turnout. I don’t have a lot of close friends, and most of the people I’ve dealt with professionally didn’t seem as though they’d waste their time spitting on my grave, let alone attending my funeral. I imagine the vast majority of the people here are here for appearances sake. Bastards.
The main event begins and I watch as several people stand beside my picture talking about how great a person I was, how smart I was, how impressive it was that I achieved so much at such a young age. None of those people really know me. They don’t know what was really important to me. Claire speaks, as does my father, and I’m feeling choked up myself at their words. My dad is actually proud of me, despite a lot of the decisions I’ve made that he didn’t approve of at the time. Claire tells stories from our childhood about the pranks we used to pull on each other and she actually gets several laughs.
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