Page 114 of When Love Is Unexpected

"I read your email," I say, walking into the living room.

"Do you want to sit down?" he asks, walking to the couch and moving his laptop to the ottoman.

"It took me a while before I was prepared to read it."

"But you read it," he says. "That's all that matters."

"Sam," I say, "I don't know where to begin."

"You can tell me you miss me," he says.

"I miss you," I say.

"I miss you too," he says, but he makes no move to touch me.

"What happened with Patricia?" I ask. "I have to know."

"A couple of weeks after you left, we met for coffee," he says. "I told her I don't love her. I was honest with her."

"I wish you had been honest with me," I say, instantly regretting my harsh words.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry."

Still, he makes no attempt to touch me.

"Will you see her again?” I ask. I have to know.

"No," he says, "I will never have to see her again."

"You live in San Diego, and she lives in San Diego."

"I live here," he says. "Plus, she's moving to Eureka. If I ever see her again, it will be pure coincidence."

"She told you she was leaving?" I ask.

"She asked me to go with her," he says. "I don't want to be with her. I don't love her."

"What about Athens?" I ask.

"I went back to Athens to tie up loose ends. My life is here."

"I heard you were selling the studio."

"I was," he says. "I changed my mind."

"Why did you buy it in the first place?" I ask. "You don't need a tiny art studio in a small town in New York. Your life is so much bigger than Cold Spring, New York."

“I bought Just in Clay because that is where I met you.”

My eyes well up with tears, and a lump forms in my throat, but I press on.

"Sam," I say, my voice sounding unsure and shaky.

"Yes," he says.

"What's the tattoo?"

My question throws him off balance. He wasn't expecting me to remember.

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