Page 115 of When Love Is Unexpected

"Tattoo?" he asks.

"Yes," I say calmly. "The tattoo on your chest."

"It's a name," he says.

Still hasn't touched me.

"Is it Patricia?" I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

"No," he says, taking a step towards me.

"Is it Helga?"

"No," he says, taking another step.

"Sam," I say, "what was the name of the second woman you loved but never told?"

"Am in love with," he says, standing a few inches away.

When he takes my hand and rests it on his chest, holding it there, I catch my breath.

"Laila," he says.

"Yes," I say, gazing into an ocean of blue.

"Laila," he says again.

"What?" I ask.

"Laila is the name on my chest, next to my heart. Laila written in Arabic."

The first tear spills out and rolls down my cheek.

He wipes it away with his thumb.

"When I left Cold Spring," he says, "I needed something tangible to keep you close to me."

"Sam," I say, "I think you took my heart with you."

"Can I hold you?" he asks.

"I've been waiting for you to touch me since I walked in."

He wraps his arms around me, and I melt into him.

"Sam, I miss you so much."

"I miss you too," he says, holding me tighter.

When I think he might kiss me, the doorbell rings.

"You're expecting someone?" I ask.

"It's dinner," he says, releasing me from his embrace.

When he returns, he says, "It's what we always ordered." He puts the bag on the kitchen counter and walks back to me, getting closer and closer.

"Sesame chicken and fried rice?" I ask.

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