“And you failed to mention that right away,” Marion said. “I can’t believe you left out such an important detail!”
“They’re just flowers.”
“Your favorite flower and he knew that.” Marion sighed, a dreamy look on her face. “That is so awesome.”
“One of my favorite flowers,” Delilah corrected.
“You love him. He loves you. And he’s courting you.” She sniffed. Tears threatened. “How perfect.”
“Marion, this isn’t happily ever after. Life doesn’t work out that way. This isn’t a damn romance novel, after all.”
“But…but…”
“We have a lot to figure out still.”
“He’s trying.”
“I know but…” She paused, her voice trailing off.
“But what?”
Delilah sat back, resting her back on the lumpy booth. “He hurt me, Mar.”
“I know.” She reached across the table and patted her hand. “It’s not easy to let yourself love again. And you never really got over Sam. That’s why you never could fall for anyone else. You and Sam finally have a shot at coming together for real this time. Don’t blow it.”
“Always the optimist.” Delilah munched a chip, considering.
Marion was a glass half-full kind of girl and always had been. Maybe Delilah needed to start seeing the world through rose-colored glasses of hers for once.
“Delilah, I know what it’s like to find happiness finally. It’s wonderful. I know Sam nearly crushed you before but he seems to have really changed. Let him love you again. See where that takes you.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this…but…all right.”
* * *
After she and Marion parted, Delilah headed for Sam’s. The thought of seeing him again made her a little giddy and caused all sorts of butterflies in her stomach. It was strange, really, to feel that way for Sam again.
Marion had a point. Why not tell him? Why not admit defeat and say she loved him? She could handle whatever her “punishment” would be. It was Sam. He was worth it. And she knew he would say the words back.
Then she could officially ask him to the wedding as her date.
As she pulled up in front of his shop, she decided to hell with the stupid bet. She’d lose and graciously. Besides, it might be kind of fun doing his bidding. The mere thought sent heat rushing over her skin.
Stepping inside the store, the bell jingled her arrival. Sam spoke to a tall dark-haired man. They leaned toward each other as though their conversation was top secret.
Sam said something to the man and when he turned slightly, she made out his profile and recognized him. He was one of Sam’s old friends from the past. They’d been smoking buddies. Pete, she thought his name was. She kept her distance, not wanting to interrupt.
Pete hadn’t changed much over the years either. He had a scruffy blond beard and spiky hair to match. In their past life, Pete had only a few tattoos. Now he had them all the way down both arms. Even his knuckles. He had an eyebrow pierced and one of his ears sported a row of silver hoops. He looked like a troublemaker. Just as he had been ten years ago.
Pete stuck out his hand and they shook. Then Sam reached for his wallet and handed over a wad of cash. Her stomach clenched with the thought that Sam was up to something nefarious.
“Thanks, dude,” Pete said.
“This is it, though. I mean it.” Sam’s tone held warning and an undertone of anger.
“That’s what you said last time.” Pete grinned. “Later.”
Pete brushed by her as he left, never making eye contact. As he breezed by, she could smell the distinct scent of marijuana clinging to his dirty black t-shirt and his holey blue jeans.
Stunned, Delilah watched him leave. Sam had just given the man a stack of money. He stank of pot. Which meant Sam had to be using again and she saw a drug transaction.
Outside, Pete got on his Harley, revved the engine so loud it made the windows vibrate, and then sped off, leaving a cloud of dust and a lot of Harley thunder.
“Delilah? What are you doing here?”
Slowly, she turned to face him, keeping her wits about her. It wouldn’t do any good to blow up. He’d only deny it. “I thought I’d come by to say hi. That was Pete, wasn’t it?”
She threw out her thoughts about asking him to the wedding. Her soul was wounded. Again.
“Oh.” Sam glanced toward the door. Was that a flash of guilt she saw? “Yeah.”
“I didn’t know you two still kept in touch.”
Sam raked a hand through his hair. “He needed my help with something.”
Delilah bit her tongue and resisted the urge to lean over and sniff Sam. He hadn’t shown her any signs he was smoking again. He didn’t smell like smoke or pot or anything else. Then again, he could hide it from her very well.
“Okay, well I have to run.” She started for the door, her heels clicking on the floor.
“Delilah, hey, wait a minute.” Sam caught up to her. “Sorry, I’m so distracted. I’d offer to take you to dinner but I’m the only one here today.”
“It’s all right. Marion needs me. She’s officially transformed into bridezilla.”
“So the big day is Saturday.” He smiled, paused, waited.
She knew he was fishing for an invitation. She changed her mind. Actually she’d chickened out. Like the wuss she really was.
Sam was right. She was soft.
“Yep. Saturday.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great.”
“I’m sure. See ya.”
“Delilah—”
She turned to look at him as she reached for the door. He stood there, hands shoved in pockets looking like a wounded puppy. And to think, she had been ready to give it all up for him. To throw caution to the wind and fall back in love with him. She hated herself for that.
“See you later?” he asked.
Delilah said nothing as she pulled open the door and stepped into the oppressive heat.
* * *
After leaving Sam, Delilah went home to drown her sorrows in a bottle of Grey Goose. She’d had one too many martinis and felt it when she woke up the next morning to the jarring ring of her cell phone.
“Yeah?”
“Delilah, where are you?” It was Marion, sounding really pissed off.
“Huh?”
“You’re supposed to be here for your final fitting.”
Shit. “I’ll be there in ten.”
“Hurry up, will you? I’ve got the seamstress waiting and—”
But Delilah had hung up before she finished. She got up, quickly dressed, managed to cover the dark circles under her eyes and then jumped in the car. She had completely forgotten she was the last to get fitted for her dress. Because of her working schedule, she hadn’t been able to get to the boutique with the other girls.
She broke every speeding limit to get to the boutique on the other side of town. When she walked in, she headed to the fitting rooms in the back.
“My God, what happened to you?” Marion asked when she saw her.
“I overslept.”
Delilah plopped into a chair, huffing out a still alcohol-laced breath. Marion stood in front of the three-way mirror in her wedding dress, looking like a giant creampuff. The seamstress knelt on the floor, making final adjustments to the length now that Marion had her wedding shoes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think Sam is smoking again.” When Marion was silent, Delilah continued. “You know…the ‘hard’ stuff.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I went by his shop yesterday afternoon because someone told me to give him a chance. And Pete was there. You remember him?”
“Wild and Crazy Pete?”
“Yeah, that Pete. Sam gave him a bunch of money. And when Pete walked by me, he smelled like pot.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know what it smells like.”
“So…you think…what?”
“Are you sure, Del?” Marion peered at Delilah over her shoulder in the mirror. “Are you sure that’s what it was?”
“What else could it be?” Delilah knew she pouted. She could feel it on her face. And she could also feel the agitation crawling through her veins.
“I think you must have jumped to conclusions.”
“No, Marion. First that ninny girlfriend of his and now this?” Delilah shook her head. “I’ve never known Sam to have that much cash on him, ever.”
“But it doesn’t add up,” Marion reasoned. “Not if everything you told me was the truth. He swore to your he was clean.”
“Mar, don’t you get it?” Delilah paced the length of the boutique dressing room. “He hasn’t changed. And I was stupid to think he had. I was stupid to let myself get drawn back into his web of stupidity.”
“That’s a whole lot of stupid,” Marion said.
Delilah grimaced at her. “The point is, Marion, I feel for it. Hook, line and sinker.”
Marion sighed. “Oh, Delilah. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for him handing Pete that money. Maybe his friend is in some sort of trouble? And he’s bailing him out?”
“Like what sort of trouble?” Delilah paused to put her hands on her hips.
“Like…he lost his job and needed money to pay the rent.”
But Delilah was already shaking her head. “No way. Sam would never do that. Not in a million years.”
“The old Sam wouldn’t. What about the new Sam?”
“Why are you making excuses for him?” Delilah demanded. “Are you in cahoots with him?”
Marion gave her an are-you-stupid stare. “You’ve lost your mind.” The seamstress had finished and scuttled out of the room. Marion stepped down off the small platform and reached for a dark blue gown. “Here. Go try this on.”
“What is it?”
“Your maid of honor dress.” She pointed to a nearby dressing room. “Go.”
“Fine.”
Muttering, Delilah stomped off toward a dressing room to change. She heard Marion talking to someone but it seemed a one-sided conversation so she figured Marion called Graeme to tell her how insane she was acting. And maybe she really was. She’d let Sam crawl under her skin again.
Slipping on the dress, she came out of the dressing room in time to see Marion hang up her cell phone and paste the biggest, fakest grin on her face.
“What?” Delilah demanded.
“Nothing. Just talking to Graeme about…last minute things.”
But Delilah wasn’t so sure. “Uh huh.”
“I have a manicure and pedicure appointment set in an hour. I think you should go with me. You could use the distraction from thinking about Sam.”
“Okay, fine.”
“And then after that, we can head to the church for the rehearsal and then dinner.”
Delilah smacked her forehead. “I forgot all about that.” She thought of her rumpled clothes. “I have to go home and shower first.”
“We can swing by there before we go to the florist.”
“We?”
“It’s clear to me you can’t be alone right now,” Marion said. “We’ll go together. You’ve been wanting a girl’s only day.”
Something told Delilah there was more to it than Marion was letting on. “Okay.”
“Besides, I think I could use the distraction from wedding stuff.”
Delilah stared at her. “Who, you? Bridezilla? I thought you loved all the planning?”
“Oh, I do. But I need a little break. Spin. Let me see.” Marion stuck her forefinger in the air and twirled it.
Delilah obliged, seeing herself in the mirror. The dress, she had to admit, was beautiful. She was glad Marion let her choose the style she wanted. The color wasn’t bad either.
“Perfect. We’ll all be perfect.”
“Sorry I was late, Mar.”
She waved away the thought. “Never mind. Come on. We have pampering to do.”
* * *
Sam had watched Delilah leave his shop the day before, confused. She’d come here for a reason, obviously, but then left so abruptly he didn’t know what to think. And then she’d run out. Like her hair was on fire.
He didn’t get it.
Friday morning, he opened the shop like usual and it was dead. Not one single customer all morning. So when his phone rang, he jumped and reached for it on the first jingle.
“Liquid Heat. How can I help you?”
“Shut up and listen to me.”
“Who is this?” he interrupted.
“It’s Marion. Now listen. Delilah told me she thinks you’re smoking again and—”
“I’m not. Where would she get that idea?”
Marion huffed on the other end of the phone. “I don’t have much time. Don’t talk, just listen. She’s in love with you, you big stupid moron. And for some reason she thinks you’ve started smoking again and it’s crushed her. She needs to know the truth. Come tell her. Be at the Celebration Restaurant tonight at seven-thirty. You can tell her there.”
“Marion, I—”
“I know you’re still in love with her. Don’t lie. Just be there.”
With that she hung up. Sam stared at the phone, replaying Marion’s words over and over in his head. He knew what he had to do—he had to be there. No matter what happened.
Chapter Thirteen
The rehearsal had gone well. Delilah was somewhat amused to see Dirk there, sitting in the pews watching the proceedings. She was downright uncomfortable when the preacher picked them both to stand-in for the bride and groom during the rehearsal. What a cruel joke the Universe played on her.
Dirk, though, took it all in good humor and seemed to enjoy himself. He even attempted to kiss the bride but that’s where Delilah drew the line. They proceeded to the restaurant in their respective cars—and Delilah resisted the urge to climb into Dirk’s car with him and make out all the way to Celebration. But she knew that wasn’t how to lick her wounds and go on. Instead, she would drown them in vodka.
They had the party room in the back of the restaurant all to themselves. Celebration was an old icehouse converted into the coolest place Delilah had ever seen. The floor and walls were knotty wood. In the party room, banquet tables had been set up and covered with white linens in preparation. The wedding party all sat together toward the front with the rest of the invited friends and family scattered about, conversing cheerfully.
But Delilah couldn’t stop the loneliness from pressing against her. She couldn’t stop from thinking what a horrible mistake she’d made yesterday walking away from Sam.
She glanced at the crowd and that’s when she saw Sam talking to Marion. He stood with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, his sandy hair tousled. His blue eyes were sad instead of mellow. He glanced her way and her heart stopped, her stomach knotted and she knew—knew—he’d come here. For her. How he knew to come here, though, she hadn’t a clue.
The ding of enlightenment sounded in her head. It must have been the call Marion made in the boutique. It had to be. And why she’d acted so strange all day. Insisting on getting a manicure and pedicure together. Insisting Delilah wear the floral sundress and strappy lime green sandals that added four inches to her height.
Marion sure was a sly thing. Delilah had fallen for it.
Sam headed straight for her. Her heart pumped madly in her chest. The only thing she could think to do to calm herself was down the class of wine in front of her. He stopped across the table from her, hands still in pockets and they sized each other up.
“Delilah.”
“Scumbag.”
“Name calling already?”
“Isn’t that what you are? A scumbag?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You want to tell me what you’re so bent about?”
&n
bsp; “No.” She pouted.
He huffed a breath. “Why not?”
“Why are you here?” she demanded. “I don’t remember seeing your name on the guest list.”
“Marion asked me to come.”
“Why?”
“She said you have this ridiculous idea I’m smoking again.” He took his hands out of his pockets, crossed his arms over his chest.
“You are.”
“Am I?”
For a split second, doubt oozed through her. Delilah quickly shoved it away. She knew what she saw. She knew it was a drug deal. “I saw you.”
“You saw me what?”
“Talking to Pete. Wild and Crazy Pete. Pothead Pete. Whatever you want to call him.”
He rolled his eyes, pulled out the chair across from her and sat. “Delilah, he was in trouble. He needed some help. I helped him.”
“You gave him money.” Even to her own ears, she sounded accusatory and petulant.
“Yes. I gave him money. He lost his job at the Harley shop three months ago. He couldn’t make the rent. And rather he, his wife, and two kids get kicked out, I loaned him the cash.”
“He smelled like pot.”
He shrugged. “He still likes it every now and then. Doesn’t mean I do.”
Delilah felt about as small as a field mouse just then. Still, she didn’t want Sam to know her guilt so she continued to jab at him. “You mean you’re not buying drugs?”
“No, Delilah.”
He sounded tired. Perhaps talking to her made him tired. And he’d be right to feel that way. She sucked at relationships. Maybe Cliff had been right. She always looked for a way out of them before they got started.
“I’m not smoking either. I haven’t picked up a cigarette or joint in years. I told you I was clean. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“It just is.” But she asked herself the same question. Maybe she didn’t want it to be true. Maybe she wanted him to be the druggie guy she remembered. Maybe she was scared he wasn’t and they would actually have a real relationship together.
Sam sat back in the chair, raked his hand through his hair. “I told you I’ve changed. I changed because I don’t want to be that person anymore. And then you walked back into my life and I thought it was a sign we could start over. I want to start over with you, Delilah, but you’re making it damned difficult.”
Sex, Lust & Martinis Page 12