by Ewens, Tracy
The whole event was painful for him. Anyone could see it in his eyes, but he was there for Grady, and to show his support for Senator Malendar. Another obligation bestowed on the head of the Everoad house while he was in Pasadena. But it was just one night. While Sam didn’t know what it was like to manage one production and bring up another, she felt as if Peter could spare one night.
Sam kissed her father on the cheek and then made her way around the table to the seat next to Peter. She kissed him gently and he took her hand. She looked into his eyes, and in the middle of this formal event, she pictured him laying next to her. He stared straight at her, not through her, into her eyes. With a gentle tug he pulled Sam closer and gracefully, it was downright graceful, drew her hand to his lips. Sam could feel his warm breath on her hand, and he paused, lingered. Once again, everyone else in the room faded away, and there she was with Peter. The kiss to her hand was soft, but strong, as if he was trying to hold her.
“Hi,” he said, still standing.
“Hi. How did things . . . ?”
“How long are you going to keep these poor men standing, Sam?”
Grady had returned to the table carrying a glass of champagne for Sam and noticed everyone was still standing.
“I know they’re a cute couple, but we can all sit,” he said, pulling out her chair.
Sam was beginning to wonder how many cocktails Grady had already had. The table laughed, except Peter who was not in a laughing mood. Grady threw his arm around Peter and handed him a glass of champagne.
“She can’t take her eyes off you, man. What have you done to this girl?”
Peter shifted his eyes to the table and gave Grady his usual sarcastic grin.
“You know, maybe if this thing works out at the Playhouse, we can lure you back here.”
Yup, Grady was one too many drinks into the evening, Sam thought.
Peter laughed mid-champagne sip and said: “Thing? You mean my play? No, I belong in New York. I don’t think I could be lured . . .”
“Oh, Come on, what’s New York have that we don’t?”
“Um, Broadway and . . . my life. Once I’m done here, that is.”
“Oh, yeah, there is that.”
Grady looked to the table, and as if on cue, they erupted with laughter. Peter realized a little too late what had flown out of his mouth. He could feel Sam’s reaction, but he was too tired to care. This was a bad idea, I should not have come tonight. He couldn’t take one more minute of useless small talk and watching the Sam and Grady show. They were always more comfortable with this crap. He needed to catch the red-eye to New York. They were having an emergency casting call in the morning in the hopes of replacing the lead before the next six-week run started. Promotional materials would need to be reprinted. It was becoming a small nightmare, and he was sitting here once again drinking champagne. Christ, was that all these people did?
Sam got the message loud and clear. She told herself to cut him some slack, but the sentiment, the need to return to his “life” as he called it, had been strong since they had returned from Catalina. There was pressure now, and Peter lost some of his flowery luster under pressure. His words became clipped and he could bite back if necessary. Grady’s comments were ridiculous, but Peter’s reaction truthful, unfiltered. Sam could feel her throat tighten.
Grady headed back to the bar, but his PR “babysitter” as he called her, very subtly cut him off by trying to start a conversation. He smiled at her but Sam could tell he was annoyed. Trying to defuse the situation, Sam grabbed Grady and they hit the dance floor. They laughed and had a great time, in spite of Peter and “the babysitter.” Grady was always up for a good time. Dinner was the standard rubber chicken, and even though the speeches were slow, it reaffirmed for Sam that Senator Malendar was one of the good guys in Washington. His campaign was important. Sam would be supportive financially and give of her time, as she had in elections past.
Peter chewed the ice from his water glass and watched Sam dancing with Grady. She was avoiding him, and quite frankly, he didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. He received confirmation from Alexis that she’d booked his flight. He needed to get to the airport. He looked up to find his mother asking Mr. Cathner to take her for a “spin around the dance floor.” Christ, Peter thought his jaw would shatter under the pressure. He was leaving. He couldn’t find Sam. She was probably off somewhere with Grady. And wasn’t that just the cherry on the cake of his day?
Jack, of course, danced with his mother, and Peter then quickly grabbed her wrap, as he’d done at hundreds of events since his father died, and ushered her out the door. He would escort her home and get to the airport. Sam was walking back from the bathroom when she saw Peter tip the valet and drive away. She pushed through the glass doors to try and catch him, but she was too late.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Grady agreed to take Sam home. Right as Norah Jones started singing “Turn Me On,” the other car’s headlights flashed in her face. She felt nothing but a heavy push. She heard metal crunch and something screeching, followed by spinning like she was on a fair ride. She felt her head slam into the side window. Pain pulsed down her cheek, and her chest was in a vise that she thought may have been the seatbelt holding on for dear life. As the car continued to spin, Sam heard Grady’s voice, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. She tried to turn and face him, but the force wouldn’t allow her to move her head. It felt like a slow motion movie scene, but was painfully real. The car jerked to a stop, Sam felt her head hit the side window again, and then everything went black.
Sam woke up in a hospital bed as the sun peeked through the blinds of the window. It was morning, but which morning? She tried to focus. Grady was asleep in the chair next to the bed. He was still in his tux, so she couldn’t have been out that long. What the hell happened? She reached for the plastic pitcher of water, knocked over the cup, and Grady sat upright, startled, eyes heavy. He had a bandage on his head and moved stiffly out of the chair to stand next to her.
“I’m in big trouble now,” he said, carefully taking her hand.
“Why’s that?” she managed to croak out.
“I made a deal with God that I’d never do anything stupid again if he pulled you through this with minimal damage.”
Sam started to laugh, but it hurt. She was sore.
“Easy there. See, so I’m screwed because I’ll never be able to leave the house again, or I’ll break the deal.”
He poured her a glass of water and eased the back of the bed up.
“Before I tell you why you’re in the hospital, I want to say, in case I’ve never said it before, I love you.”
His eyes watered, and then he started to laugh.
“I’m fine.”
“I know . . . but when I saw you in my car it was so . . . Christ . . .”
He wiped away a tear.
“What happened?”
“Some jackass ran a red light, that’s what happened, and he completely ruined our evening. You took most of the impact and some very strapping firefighters came to your rescue. You were knocked out. You have a minor concussion and a broken arm.”
Henry and her parents entered the room with coffee from the cafeteria. Henry handed Grady a coffee and something in a bag, then leaned over, and gently kissed Sam’s cheek.
“Scared me to death, sis. How’re you feeling?”
“I think I remember waking up for the cast, but I missed the firefighters. Damn!”
Sam’s voice was back with the help of the water. She felt like someone beat her up, but she would be fine. She had never broken anything before.
“Thank God, you’re okay, honey,” her mother said, taking her hand, and sitting in the chair Grady offered.
“Brian was on the scene. Poor guy had no idea who he was rescuing. Had to cut you out of the car, Button,” her father added gently, brushing her cheek, and then he too sat down.
“Brian? Was there? Oh, I need to thank him.”
>
Sam tried to sit up too quickly, and her body sent a reminder she had been in a car accident. She lay back down.
“He’s already checked on you. He’s back at the station. I’m sure you can thank him later,” Grady added, carefully biting into a bagel.
Sam noticed his lip was cut. She moved her legs and did a mental inventory of her body. She was sore, but everything appeared to be in the right place.
“Do I even want to look at my face?” Sam asked her mother.
“It’s fine, honey. You were wearing your seatbelt, so there are some scratches, but nothing major.”
Her mom dug a mirror out of her purse and handed it to Sam. She looked through the small, round mirror and noticed she had a black and blue knot on her forehead and a cut on her cheek. Other than that, she was lucky. Really lucky. Sam rested her head back on the pillow and then she realized what was missing.
“Peter,” she said, looking at Grady.
“Did . . . please tell me someone called Peter.”
With that everyone except Grady stood, kissed Sam again, and said they were going to let her rest and they would be in the waiting area. It was a mass exodus because no one wanted to have this conversation. Grady stood alone. Thank God he’d had some coffee because he was going to need it.
“Where the hell is everyone going? Is he here?”
Grady took a deep breath, as deep as his aching ribs would allow.
“Henry called him, Sam. He knows, and he’s on his way back.”
“On his way back from where?”
Sam scooted up a little in the bed.
“New York. He was on a plane when Henry called, but he called me back when he landed.”
“What? Why the hell was he on a plane? I didn’t even know he was flying last night. When did he leave?”
“I guess his agent booked the flight. He left right after the fundraiser. Something about the principal actor. It doesn’t matter, Sam. He’s on his way back. I think his flight gets in at two. He’s worried sick and called again right before he got on the plane,” Grady added as Sam’s face continued to look confused and then deflated.
“So he was in New York, off to New York again.”
Sam stared straight ahead, as if she were in a trance.
“Sam, he had no way of knowing we were going to be in an accident. It was just weird timing.”
“Did you know he was flying to New York last night?”
Grady hesitated. He knew where this was going.
“No. When I talked to him he said he couldn’t find us before he left the fundraiser. He said he tried to find you, but he needed to . . .”
“Run,” Sam interrupted, looking right at Grady.
“Is that what he needed to do, he needed to run? Back to New York, something super urgent in the great big city? Didn’t have five damn minutes to wait for me to return from the bathroom, or hell, even tell the woman he’s, once again sleeping with, that he needed to catch a flight across the damn country.”
Sam was wincing from raising her voice, her ribs hurt, and Grady had no idea what to say. He opted to stand up for Peter.
“He didn’t run, Sam. He had to deal with some things. There are big issues with his show in New York, you know this. Come on, it was a shitty coincidence.”
Sam let out a small pained laugh.
“Am I the only one who sees the irony here? I am in a hospital bed, a car accident that could have taken both of our lives, put me here. I’m surrounded by my family. Christ, I was even cut out of a car by my ex-boyfriend. Even he was there. I woke up to you, even though you’re hurt too and in pain. What’s missing, once again, Grady? Who’s not here when I need him? Who’s off to New York, Grady?”
Sam didn’t wait for him to answer, she knew he wouldn’t. Sam was stunned and angry. Things had been building up over the past week, and sure, she knew Peter had responsibilities, but they all did. How were they ever going to make a life if she’s lying in a hospital bed and he’s not there? If he flew off to New York without even mentioning it to her? Was this how it was always going to be? She’d be left hanging while Peter did what Peter needed to do? Sam, you stupid fool. That’s why there’s never a plan. He has no intentions of making a life with you. Her head fell back to the pillow, and she closed her eyes.
“Sam, I don’t know what to say. It was one of those things. He’s on his way. He turned right around. It’s not like he doesn’t care. He loves you.”
“I don’t care. Did he even ask how you were? If you were okay?”
“He was out of his mind with worry and trying to catch another flight. Come on, Sam. Cut the guy some slack. He was on the phone with me. He knew I was fine.”
Sam said nothing. Grady rose to get more coffee.
“Sam, please relax and rest.”
Chapter Thirty
The Cathners brought Sam home from the hospital later that afternoon. The doctor gave her pain medication, but she was tired of feeling whacked out, so she was sticking with Tylenol. Her body was sore, but with the exception of her right arm, everything worked. Sam’s mom pleaded with her to stay in the main house, but she wanted to be alone. She was fine. Her mother said she would send dinner over and to call if she needed anything. Sam walked her parents to the door, assuring them she was going to lie on the couch and rest. When they left, she curled up on the couch, resting her cast across her chest.
Peter knocked on the door as the sun was going down. Sam was sleeping, propped up with pillows. She opened her eyes and knew immediately who was at the door. She took her time getting up, partly because her body would only move so fast, but mostly because she was angry, and didn’t want to have the conversation.
She opened the door. Peter was standing in front of her, bathed in the setting sun, and her heart began to fall apart. He looked worse than she felt. He took in her scraped-up face and then stared at her arm. He wasn’t sure how to reach out to her without hurting her, but before he had a chance, Sam shook her head in disgust, and walked back to the couch, leaving him in the doorway. Peter closed the door.
“Sam.”
“You know what, save it. I’m not sure why you’re even here.”
“Sam, I’m sorry . . . I . . .”
“Sorry? You’re sorry for what exactly Peter? Sulking at the fundraiser because you didn’t want to be there? Flying off to your precious New York without so much as a goodbye?”
Peter was well into twenty-four hours without sleep, so he interrupted before this got out of hand.
“I was going to call you from the airport, I couldn’t find you, and I really needed to . . .”
“Just don’t!”
She held up the hand that worked and winced at the pain in her shoulder. Peter moved to sit next to her.
“Please stop. You’re in pain. Can’t we talk about this later? I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I had to leave, but I turned right back around as soon as I spoke to Grady. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Sam said nothing.
“Grady told me what happened on the phone. Jesus, Sam, you guys were so lucky.”
He touched her knee and then went to brush her bangs off her face, and Sam moved away. Peter had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling, as she slowly stood.
“I can’t do this. I can’t love like this. I don’t want to.”
Peter closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Aw, Christ, Sam, what does that mean?”
“It means I’m done. I don’t want this relationship. I don’t want to compete with New York and your precious life. I don’t want it, I don’t want any of it.”
Peter stood. She was hurting, and he needed to find a way to calm her down. She was talking crazy. She moved away again.
“Don’t. You shut down, think of yourself, and I’m left hanging. That’s not a relationship, that’s not going anywhere. I’m tired of hanging on for you. I have a life, I need things, and I need you to be . . .”
“Where the hell is
this coming from? Because I had one bad day, I got on a plane, and so now you can’t do this?”
He tried to be gentle; she had a cast and the bruise on her head looked awful, but damn it, he was tired of apologizing.
“How long is this going to hang over us, Sam? How long am I going to have to pay for leaving you?”
She turned and her eyes bore right through him.
“What?”
“I’m serious, I mean: what’s it going to take? I’m in love with you, we’re together, and you still can’t let it go.”
“I can’t let it go? I can’t . . . are you kidding me? I’ve let it go, Peter, I let you back in. The problem is you’re the same selfish son-of-a-bitch who left me the first time. You just have better excuses now. You’re still running, hiding behind New York or your job. You still cringe at some stupid fundraiser. You’re always first in your mind, Peter, and hell, I don’t know, maybe that’s because of your past.”
She sat back down on the couch, her face was warm and her head was starting to throb. Peter took a deep breath and kneeled in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.
“That’s not true. I put you first, you are first, but I have responsibilities. I’m not hiding, I mean, sure I have issues being home, but we’ll work those out. Once the play opens, we’ll figure it out. This is crazy, Sam. I love you.”
He looked up at her, and her eyes were cold. She was gone.
“Sure, we’ll figure it out. It will all work out.”
She was mocking him.
“Once the play is up, I’ll know what the hell we’re doing. Who’s going to make those decisions, Peter? You? Will you dole out the next scene when it’s written? Will you tell me what’s coming up when you’re good and ready?”
He stood up and so did Sam. They were face to face, and he could feel her anger, years of it that she’d never let out.
“No! You won’t do that to me. I’m done waiting for you, done figuring you out, done trying to understand your next move. I know it sounds crazy, but you were on a plane when I needed you. You never even told me you were leaving. You said nothing. My heart was resting in your hands, and you left. Sound familiar?”