Page 78 of When Love Is Unexpected

"Then, why are you still so far away? Not only physically, but it feels like your thoughts are somewhere else, too."

He takes two steps forward and wraps his hands around my arms. I expect him to hug me, kiss me, and make me feel butterflies in the pit of my stomach, but all he does is give me a peck on the forehead before saying, "I'm going to shower before dinner. I'll see you downstairs?"

"Yeah," I say. "See you later." When he shuts the bathroom door, my mind starts reeling. What is going on? What happened between last night and now that has made him act differently toward me?

I told him I'm waiting. Is he upset about that? I feel anger and sadness well up inside me. When a tear rolls down my face, I immediately brush it away. Why do I feel so hurt? Is it just my pride taking a beating?

I sit for a few minutes, trying to collect myself, and then I touch up my makeup before heading downstairs.

***

Janice and Alice are cooking dinner in the kitchen. "It smells delicious in here," I say. "Can I help?"

"We're making chicken pot pie," says Janice, rolling out some dough.

"You can shred this chicken," says Alice, handing me a whole roasted chicken on a plate.

I put the chicken on the counter and wash my hands before pulling a knife from the butcher block and a couple of forks from the utensil drawer.

"Do you have everything you need upstairs?" asks Alice, handing me a large glass bowl.

"Yes," I say. "Thank you. Do you happen to have any gallon-size plastic bags, by any chance?"

"Yes, in that bottom drawer," says Alice, pointing at one of the drawers underneath the center island.

I pull out a bag and open it. Then, I slip the entire chicken into the bag with my hands. After I zip it shut, I use my hands to pull all the meat off the bones from the outside of the bag. Once all the meat is off the bones, I open the bag and remove all the bones, throwing them into the waste basket.

"Wow," says Janice. "That was quick and efficient."

"Mom taught us to do this when we were younger," I say, dumping the chicken into the glass bowl. I use the forks to remove the skin and finish shredding it.

"Your sister is having a baby," says Janice. "Sam told us she and her husband are waiting for the birth to find out what they're having."

"Yes," I say. "Both of my sisters are expecting. My sister Katherine is having another boy. It's her third. They already have one of each."

"And this is Loren's first?" asks Alice.

"Yes, but she's already mom to her husband's daughter from his first marriage. His wife passed away when Holly was two."

"Do you want any children, Laila?" asks Alice.

"I do," I say, smiling. "I want at least two, three if possible, and ideally, four.

"Four? Wow!" says Janice.

"Growing up, my sisters and I used to dream of our futures. We planned our lives down to the number of children we wanted. We felt three always left one odd man out; two was not enough, so four seemed perfect. But ultimately, we want whatever God has planned for us."

"That's a good plan," says Alice.

"I think so," I say.

"So, tell me how you and Sam found each other," says Alice. "Don't hold back any detail. The last we heard, you two were friends living in different countries. We had no idea you had started a relationship. I think it's wonderful; don't take me wrong. It just seems a little rushed. I don't know if rushed is the right word. It just seems like it came out of nowhere."

"No," I say. "I don't mind at all. Sam and I have been friends for two and a half years, give or take. When we met, I was in a relationship. Sam and I became fast friends. He worked for my sister, Loren, in her art studio. I'd be there whenever she needed help. My boyfriend and I grew apart. Sam and I grew closer together. I don't know how to explain it. We were so drawn to each other. After my sister got married, he bought the studio. I was so happy."

"Were you still dating someone else?" asks Janice.

"I was," I say. "I was in medical school, working part-time and helping Loren at the studio, where I saw Sam more and more often. I never imagined he would move away. I was heartbroken when he left. We kept in touch, though. We talked on the phone, texted, emailed, and video-chatted a few times a week during the entire time he was gone. My relationship with Eric ended, and shortly after that, I realized that what I felt for Sam was a lot stronger than just a friendship.”

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