by Robin Huber
“It is.”
“Well, Drew might not think so,” I say flatly.
His face falls again, but I won’t apologize for caring about Drew’s feelings. The thought of hurting him is crushing. My heart pounds in my chest for him. “I realize you don’t care about that, but I do.”
“So take your time, then.”
My heart begins to beat faster, now out of anger. “You have no idea how hard this is for me, Sam.”
“I don’t know hard it is?” he asks with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Damn, Lucy. This isn’t just about you.”
I swallow down my anger and exhale a remorseful breath. “I know.” I shake my head and give him an apologetic look. “I know it isn’t. I’m sorry.” I reach for his hand. “I’m going to tell him soon. After the exhibit next week.”
He pulls his eyebrows together and asks, “Why then? Why wait until after the exhibit? Why not just do it now?”
“Because if I tell him beforehand, the exhibit might not happen. And, while I’m willing to give up my life with Drew to be with you, I can’t give up my career.” I give a halfhearted smile.
Before he can say anything, his phone buzzes on the counter and a green text bubble lights up his screen. He reaches for it and reads the message and starts swiping his thumb across the screen.
“Everything okay?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Sam, what are you doing?”
“Checking Twitter.”
I scrunch my face up. “You tweet?” I ask, trying not to laugh. I know he has an account, I’ve followed it for…a while. But the tweets are usually about his matches and various events. I can’t envision Sam sharing deep thoughts about his morning coffee with the world, or caring about anyone else’s.
“No. My manager handles my social media accounts.”
“Well then, what are you doing?”
He pulls his hand to his face and rubs it over his jaw and chin. Then he turns the phone around and shows me the screen.
Who’s the mystery girl in @samcolefights life?…Is boxing’s most eligible bachelor @samcolefights off the market?…Breaking News: @samcolefights spotted with a mystery blonde.
I think I might actually throw up. “Oh,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
He calls someone and holds the phone to his ear. “Fix it. Now…I don’t care, just fix it…Tell me when it’s done.” He ends the call and drops his elbows onto the counter.
“The woman in the elevator.”
“What woman?”
“There was this woman in the elevator on my way up.” All the thoughts she evoked before come storming back into my mind, making my pulse race. She obviously knows him. I’m guessing intimately. Jealousy fills my chest and oozes from the tips of my fingers, turning my fingernails into claws. “She looked me up and down and then told me to have fun up here, like I’m some kind of groupie,” I say agitated, unable to hide my disdain.
“What did she look like?”
I cross my arms. Need to sort through the catalogue? “She had short brown hair. A lot of makeup. And an arrogant smirk on her face.” I shake my head. “I guess you probably have women up here a lot.”
“No, not really.”
“I mean, I get it. Women probably throw themselves at you all the time. I just never really thought you’d be the kind of guy who parades them in and out of your bed like some kind of wannabe rock star.” I hear the unflattering jealousy in my voice, but I don’t care. I am jealous. I resent each and every woman who has ever captured his attention.
“You know that’s not me.”
“No, actually, I don’t. What I know is that I see you photographed with a different woman every day of the week.”
He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “I don’t even have time for that to be possible.”
I huff loudly and roll my eyes.
He stands directly in front of me and says firmly, “You’re right, there are women who would probably love to be ‘paraded’ up here, to use your word. But not because they like me, or even know me. I figured that out pretty quickly,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t bring strangers into my home, Lucy. So to answer your assumption…no, I don’t have women up here a lot.”
I pull in a slow breath and try to lasso the untamed emotion that broke through the fence and ran wild inside me.
“The woman you saw in the elevator…her name is Molly. She lives in this building. She’s a friend. She was probably just wondering who you are.”
Relief takes over and tugs hard on the reins. “She texted something to someone,” I say, finding my way back to my original point. “I think it was about me.”
He shakes his head and grumbles, “Molly.”
“You think she’s the reason for all those tweets?”
He shrugs and lets out a sigh. “That’s how it usually works. Someone just has to plant the seed and the media goes nuts. Everyone wants the story and they want it first. But Molly wouldn’t do something like that.”
I’m a story? “Wow,” I say, astonished. “I can’t believe how cheap I feel.” I take a sip of my water. “I’ll be right back.” I escape the kitchen to the nearest bathroom, where I sit on the lid of the toilet with my face in my hands.
“Lucy?” Sam knocks on the door, but I don’t answer. “Lucy, the media makes up stories all the time. It’s fine.”
I stand up and open the door. “How? How is any of this fine? If they find out who I am…that I’m engaged! Well, there goes my career. How do you feel about Iceland? Is there boxing there? Because that’s where I’m going to have to move after my reputation gets flushed down the toilet.”
He grabs my hand and drags me back to the kitchen. He pulls a stool out from the island for me. “Sit down. I’m going to make you some tea.”
“You know how to make tea?” I ask, smiling involuntarily.
“I’m not an invalid. I just don’t cook.”
“Tea would actually be perfect right now.”
I take a deep breath and shrug out of my jacket while he fills a teakettle with water.
He sets it on the range and turns the gas on under it. “I’m sorry about Molly, but you really shouldn’t worry. My manager will take care of it.”
“What am I supposed to say if I see her again?”
“That she’d be right to stay on your good side, because you’re from Brighton Park.” He grins and winks.
“I try so hard to pretend that I’m not, then one condescending comment brings it all out.” I drop my head and laugh softly. “Sorry about that. My reaction was less than ladylike.”
He looks at me and smiles. “I loved your reaction. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“Are you saying that I’m not a lady?” I laugh quietly.
He walks around the island and spins me around on the stool. He leans over me and pushes me back against the counter. “You are every bit a lady. And you are…breathtakingly sophisticated. But you’ll always have a little of the Park in you. You can’t polish that away.” He grins and shows me his dimples. “It’s part of you. And it’s part of me. It’s what makes us fight so hard for what we want.” The whistle of the teakettle screams across the kitchen, demanding his attention, and he stands up straight, leaving me breathless and biting my smiling lip.
“Still, I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions about your love life.”
“The only love life I’ve ever had is you.” He drops two tea bags into a couple of mugs. “Sugar?”
“Yes, please.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I didn’t like the way she looked at me.”
“Molly looks at everyone that way.” He hands me a mug and sits on the stool beside me.
“She’s very pretty.”
“Yes,” he says impassively.
I sip my tea and consider asking a question I don’t really want the answer to. But I have to know. “Have you two…”
“Yes,” he says, just as nonchalantly as before.
I presumed the answer was yes, but hearing
him say it so freely is shocking. I blink at him and nod, unable to find any words.
“She’s a friend,” he reiterates, as if that somehow makes it better.
“Do you sleep with all your friends? Or just her?” I ask, unable to hide the jealousy that’s bubbled back up to the surface.
He creases his eyebrows and shakes his head. “She’s someone I talk to.”
I sip the warm peppermint tea in my mug. “Do you ever talk to her about me?”
“Sometimes.”
I take another sip and accept the fact that Sam has an intimate relationship with the woman who just tweeted about me. “Do you talk to her a lot?”
His blank stare tells me that he does.
“When was the last time?” I ask, like some sort of masochist. “I’m just curious.”
“Lucy, why are you doing this?”
“I just want to know.”
He anchors his hands around his mug and looks at me. “Last week.”
I can’t hide the shock on my face. “Last week? Before or after I poured my heart out on your couch?”
“After.”
“It was rhetorical,” I whisper with what little air is left in my lungs.
“Lucy, you showed up out of the blue, ripped my heart out, shoved it in your pocket, and drove home to your fiancé. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, and I was a little bit fucked up about it. So yes, I called Molly. Because unlike you, I have no one else.”
I let out a slow breath and close my eyes, feeling like the world’s biggest hypocrite. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t have any right—”
“You have every right.” He drops his hands to his lap and looks at me. “You have every right. And I understand why that would upset you. But believe me when I tell you, I would trade every minute I’ve spent with Molly for just one fraction of a second with you.”
I nod softly, feeling my emotions settle, but I can’t shake the anxious feeling bubbling inside me. I chew the corner of my mouth and consider what I’m about to say. “Sam…I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
“For what?”
“For women, or anyone for that matter, to look at me like I’m the scum of the earth just because I’m with you.”
“You’re not with me,” he says, taking a sip from his mug.
I purse my lips and say seriously, “My life is easy, Sam. It’s so incredibly different from where we grew up. I come and go as I please and people are nice to me. They actually think that I’m sophisticated, even if it is just a show. They treat me like I am. They respect me.”
“I respect you.”
“I know that you respect me, but I’m talking about everyone else. I just don’t know if I’m ready to become a newsflash. I want people to take me seriously. I want to see my name on the cover of the New Yorker or ARTnews magazine, not Us Weekly.”
“So what are you saying? You’d rather marry Drew so you can have a quiet life in the suburbs? All because of a stupid tweet?”
“It’s not just that. It’s everything that it represents. It’s a world I’m not ready for.” I close my eyes and exhale a breath that’s laced with worry and uncertainty.
“It’s a cop-out. You’re just scared.”
I open my eyes and he holds my stare.
“You’re scared because you know that it’s going be hard and you’re going to have to say things to people that aren’t easy to say.”
I push my mug of tea away and stand up.
“Do you think it was easy for me to come see you at your studio after the fight in New York?”
“Sam,” I whimper, feeling overwhelmed, because he’s the one person I can’t hide from.
He stands up and grabs my wrist. “Do you think it was easy for me to walk away after we kissed, knowing you were going to back to him? Do you think it’s easy for me to stand here now, wondering if you’re really going to leave him or not? Because the thought of losing you again is fucking terrifying.”
A sob bubbles out of me.
“I can’t…I can’t lose you again, Lamb.” He lets go of my hand. “I don’t know how many more rounds I have left in me.”
I shake my head and wrap myself around him. “That’s not going to happen.”
He closes his arms around me, but he doesn’t pull me against him. “You’re starting to make me wonder.”
I look up at his wary eyes and say resolutely, “I love you.”
“Then be with me.”
I press my cheek to his shirt. “Soon…I promise. The exhibit is only a week away.”
His chest rises and falls against my cheek, but he doesn’t say anything.
“It’s important, Sam. The show might be my only chance of getting to sell in New York. I need it to go well. If I tell Drew beforehand, he or Janice could pull the proverbial plug. And I’ve worked too hard to let that happen. I know you don’t want that to happen.”
He unwraps my arms from around him and sits back down on his stool.
“This is all so much,” I say, sitting down next to him. “I feel incredibly selfish. And you’re right, I am scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life. I’m scared of what to tell Drew, I’m scared of what to tell his mother, I’m scared of what they’ll think of me. I’m scared that I’ll be shunned by a community I’ve only just earned my place in. And I am scared that I’m going to be some kind of joke in the media. But most of all, I’m scared of hurting you.” I place my hand on his arm and he closes his eyes.
“I’ve waited for you this long, Lucy. I can wait a few more days.” He opens his unguarded eyes and they consume mine. “I’d wait for you forever.”
His vulnerable words wrap around my heart, squeezing it so tight I can barely breathe. There’s nothing I want more than to be with him, from this second on, until my last second on earth. I want to throw caution to the wind with abandon and find an island somewhere we can live on, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives. But that’s a fantasy. Real life is harder and it’s full of consequences that I have to face.
“You won’t have to,” I say tentatively. “Just one more week, that’s all I need.” One week isn’t enough time to carefully shatter Drew’s heart, but it’s a deadline I can hold myself to. Maybe by then I will have figured out a way to process all of this and gather the courage I’m going to need to make the most seismic decision of my life.
“And when the exhibit is over, you’ll be mine?”
I smile softly and nod. “Yes, officially.”
He reaches for my hand and pulls me to my feet, so that I’m standing between his knees and directly in front his face. He wraps his hand around my hip and then rubs it across the small of my back. “What am I supposed to do with myself until then?”
“Well, first you’re going to focus on getting better, so this can come off,” I say, touching his cast. “And you’re going to concentrate on your next match, so you can win,” I say softly against his ear, “because you’re a champion, and that’s what champions do.”
He exhales heavily through his nostrils, and I feel it on my cheek.
“And you’re going to take care of whatever you need to take care of, so that we can start our life together.” I press my lips together to fight the sudden onslaught of emotion. Overwhelming as it may be, the thought of starting a new life with Sam is every dream I’ve ever had. And now I’m standing on the verge of it being reality.
“I know you’re scared right now, Lamb. But I promise that I will do everything I can to give you the life we always wanted.” He smiles and shows me his dimples. “Forget this apartment. I’ll buy you a house. The biggest one I can find.”
I laugh softly and shake my head. “I’d live with you in a box.”
“And I’ll make you pancakes every morning,” he says, just like he promised when we were kids.
“With bacon?” I add, remembering how much he loves it.
He smiles and nods. “And you can paint all the time. I’ll build you a studio right inside our house.�
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I smile and think of the other dream we shared growing up. “And we’ll have a family?” I couldn’t imagine having kids with Drew, but I realize now it’s because I wanted them with Sam. A strange rush of desire surges through me like a tsunami, and I’m shaken by the fierce need to have a family with him. Thoughts of him holding our baby girl, or boy, in the early morning light swirl through my head.
He nods and looks into my eyes, and I wonder if he’s having the same vision. “Yeah,” he says huskily.
I hold his face in my hands and whisper, “Even if none of that ever happens, I’ll still love you.” As I say it, I feel a pinch in my stomach. I want it all, so badly, but I can’t shake the feeling of doubt that we’ll never actually have it.
“It will happen,” he says certainly.
I drop my hands and look away.
“Why don’t you have faith in me?” he asks.
“I do have faith in you,” I say firmly, looking up at him again.
“Good. Because I have faith in you.” He pulls me closer, making me feel weak and strong at the same time. “If that’s the life we want, that’s the life we’ll have. We’re in control of that now. You and me. But it won’t be easy and I can’t do it alone.” He wraps his hand behind my neck and rubs his thumb over my jaw. “Are you with me?” He gazes at me with pleading eyes, and all of my uncertainty and doubt falls away.
I am so with him. I don’t care if it does shake the universe; I’ll do it a hundred times for him. “I’m with you,” I whisper, but before I can say anything more, his lips cover mine.
He stands up and pushes me against the counter, and kisses me passionately, pushing and pulling my lips with his and scraping them softly between his teeth.
Forgetting my virtuous resolve, I reach for his face and wind my hands into his hair, moaning quietly as he satisfies a place in my soul he carved out so very long ago. He lifts me up onto the cool marble counter and tugs my hips forward so that my thighs are pressed firmly against him as he rocks his hips up with a husky groan, gifting me with a morsel of pleasure when I feel him through his perfectly tailored pants.
“Sam,” I mumble against his lips, but before I have to say anything else, he pulls away from me.