Page 91 of Without You, Scotch and Sammy 2

“That CD says number forty-three…”

I bite the inside of my cheek and run my finger over the black marker. “This is the forty-third disk he’s sent since I left.”

“He’s writing a new song every single day?” She whistles through her teeth. “You still have a teddy bear. I haven’t seen my man in six nights. I doubt he even noticed I’m gone.”

“They’re not all new songs. Some I already know. Some are from when we were kids. Some are for Lil. The rest are new.”

“I can’t believe he’s still trying.”

I can. I’ve been here before. He did it for three years once… he’s only just begun. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you get a court date yet?”

Lily farts, and I smile. “Yup. On the twenty-third. Juliette said we’re going forward. Sam’s playing hardball. I don’t have a lot of options right now, so we forge ahead like everything is right on track.”

“Did you talk to him?”

I scoff. “No, I didn’t talk to him. I’m making a new habit of ignoring his calls. Juliette just said we’re sticking to the plan.”

Meg leans forward and snatches a still straining Lily. Settling her on top of her knees, she starts cycling Lil’s newly chunky legs. “Does he call often?”

I reach across and pick up my cell, and turning the screen on, I show her.

“Seven missed calls.” She tsks and continues to move Lily’s legs. “That’s not so bad. The guy I remember was much more persistent.”

I laugh humorlessly. “Seven missed calls… in the last two hours. He averages a couple dozen a day and leaves a message every single time. I’ve had to change my voicemail to ‘I’m fine, Sam,’ because he said that he’s worried about me.”

“Awww. That’s adorable,” she chuckles. “What does he say in his messages?”

I shrug. “He’s sorry. He misses Lil. He’s thinking of us. That sort of stuff.”

“How many times will you say no before you give him the yes?” She smirks. “We all know it’s coming.”

I slump against the couch. “It’s not coming. Too much time has passed.”

“It’s only been three weeks!”

I roll my eyes. “It’s been a hell of a lot longer than that. He thought I aborted, and when I denied, he called me a liar.”

Meg looks down at me pityingly. “I bet he’s sorry he said that. I bet he’s sorry he lied.”

My heart tumbles in my chest. “He said that in his messages too.”

“So you’re just gonna ignore all his calls. Live your life the way you are now?”

I shrug softly, because I just don’t have an answer for her. I don’t enjoy being unable to breathe. I don’t love being in love and having it hurt the way it does. Sam delivered on that promise, at least. There would be no other men for me.

I reach out and take my tea to have something to do with my hands and mouth, but my phone begins vibrating again and I clamp my eyes shut. Without even looking at the screen, we both know who it is. I can feel him right there. He’s so close, but he may as well be a million miles away.

Meg and I watch it buzz, buzz, buzz, then finally, it silences and I let out a breath. Every single time he does this, I find myself freezing. He takes my breath away, and not in the good way. But in the way that I feel dizzy and nausea and dread fill my belly.

What feels like an eternity later, my cell buzzes again and the message icon pops up. Voicemail.

“There’s no way in hell you don’t wanna know what he just said.”

I purse my lips and glare at my cell, but it simply lies there innocuously.

With a hesitant huff, I dial voicemail, but I don’t put the phone on speaker. I want to hear his voice. I covet his messages. I’m just not brave enough to answer them. I press the phone to my ear and let his beautiful voice wrap me up like it used to when I was in high school.

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