Page 19 of When Love Is Unexpected

"She's amazing," I say.

"One more thing before you go," she says.

Her tone tells me it's something important. "What is it?" I ask.

"Patricia," she says, and my blood runs cold. "She's one of the organizers for your high school reunion. She called several weeks ago and asked if you were planning to attend. I told her you were living abroad and that I didn't know if you'd come back for a reunion."

"Thanks," I say. "I am planning to attend."

After we end the call, I go into the bathroom to shower. I pull my sweaty T-shirt over my head and focus on the small tattoo on my chest. It's a single word written in Arabic. A foreign word that serves as a reminder of what I so desperately want but can never have.

After Loren married Aaron and moved to Boston, I rented this house from her. I lived here for almost a year before moving to Athens. Laila and I spent so much time in this house that it's hard not to connect everything in here with a memory of our friendship.

She'd come over a few times a week, and I'd help her study. The other days, I'd be at her house. I'd test her on all things medicine, from anatomy to molecular and cellular biology. The woman is brilliant.

During our last video chat, I apologized for missing her graduation and not being here to celebrate with her. I could tell she was disappointed, but she didn't hold it against me.

The night before I left for Athens, Laila came over to make me what she called a "bon voyage" dinner. She made a pot roast with mashed potatoes and green beans with bacon. After dinner, we washed the dishes together, had coffee, and shared a slice of strawberry cheesecake.

When it was time for her to leave, she got emotional.

"I'm going to miss you," she said. "Who's going to help me get through my last year of medical school?

"I'm sorry," is all I could say.

"Why are you leaving?" she asked. "Because I don't think you're being honest with me."

When she started crying, I wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Don't cry," I said. "Please don't cry."

"You're breaking my heart," she said.

Her gaze was so penetrating I thought she was looking right into my soul, searching for an answer to her question, "Why are you leaving?"

Her disagreements with Eric had worsened in the past six months. Half of them were because he wanted more time with her, and the other half were because the free time she did have she spent with me. She wanted Eric, the boyfriend, and she wanted Sam, the friend, but she only had time for one. That put me at a disadvantage. I was essentially the third wheel. Things, as they stood, were no longer sustainable. Sooner or later, Eric was going to give her an ultimatum. I could almost hear him saying, "It's either him or me." I didn't want to be at the losing end of that tug-of-war. Something had to give, so I chose to leave.

Of course, I couldn't tell her any of this, so I lied.

"I'm not one who stays in one place for too long," I said. "It's time for me to explore a new country and meet new people."

"Why did you buy the studio then?" she asked.

"Loren needed a buyer," I said. "Cold Spring is attracting more tourists every year, and I see it as an investment."

"I don't believe you," she said.

"What else could it be?" I asked, never imagining she'd hit the nail on the head.

"I think you're leaving because you think you're coming between me and Eric."

"And you don't think I am?"

"Sam, you're my best friend," she said.

"Eric should be your best friend," I said.

"There's a difference between having a boyfriend and having a man who's just a friend," she clarified.

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