Page 81 of All In
The skin around his eyes shows signs of aging, but the longing remains unchanged. His stare would always send warmth throughout my whole body. Which is still the case because I feel like I need to peel this coat off.
Did the temperature rise in the last five minutes?
He has a few days’ worth of stubble growing, which totally works for me. Maturity has reached his hair and beard because it’s scattered with gray strands. Let’s just say the years have been kind to him because he is rocking this whole salt-and-pepper dad vibe.
“Hi.” His voice shakes with nerves, and he gives me a soft wave while clearing his throat. “Hey,” he says again.
I’m completely dumbfounded, and it seems my ability to speak has gone out the window. I haven’t seen Sam since Brielle was a baby and we spent that day in the park. And I haven’t heard from him since his last email after his ex-wife’s tragic death. A very curt and final email.
As I blink in disbelief, a wave of shock washes over me.
Questions swirl in my head like a tornado. What is he doing here? Does he work here?
I should probably say hi instead of standing here staring at him. “Hi, Sam.” We both let out a nervous laugh and go in for a hug. Despite my open-armed approach, it becomes clear that he only wanted a handshake as his palm was outstretched.
“Oh, okay.” He jolts back with surprise, then wraps one arm around my shoulder. My bag and purse are slung over the other. I don’t know where to put my hands, so I give him a quick double pat on the back. The whole thing lasts only seconds. We pull apart and take a step backward, both of us studying the ground, not wanting to make eye contact.
Most uncomfortable almost-hug ever.
There was a time when hugging Sam felt natural and easy. We would fit like a glove and melt into each other. The world, our emotions, or problems could never penetrate the bubble we would create in each other’s arms. I miss his arms around me. But that hug? That hug was full of unshared history and awkwardness.
God, I hate that we went from what we were to … this.
His hot breath floats in the cold air as he exhales. He forcefully slides his hands into the warmth of his coat pockets. “How have you been?”
I bob my head as if it’s a toy. “Good. Great, actually. And you?”
He kicks a piece of gravel with his shoe. “Good.”
Silence hangs in the air for a beat or two, and I turn to face the car under the tree. It’s empty.
I have to know, so I jut my thumb toward the empty car. “So, are you the guy that’s been hanging out in your car for the last few months?”
He holds his hands up in surrender and laughs. “Guilty.”
“Well, at least I know you’re not some creeper.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
The sound of our laughter cuts through the tension, instantly lightening the mood.
But I need to know if my sixth sense about being watched was accurate. A slow smile builds. “Have you been watching me?”
He lifts his left shoulder and gives me a slight grin. “Guilty again.”
I shake my head, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. I should be mad that he didn’t approach me sooner. Or that he stalked me for months. But oddly enough, I’m not. It’s kinda heartwarming and comforting to know that he has been this close.
Caught up in the moment, he can’t help but join in with laughter, helping to ease some of the awkwardness. “I’m glad you’re not mad.”
“No, I’m not mad.” It’s impossible for me to resist smiling when I look at him.
“Good.”
“I am wondering why you didn’t say hi sooner, though?”
He peers off into the distance, collecting his thoughts. “I wasn’t sure if I was ready. Or if you would want me to.” As his focus returns to me, a faint smile forms on his face. “But my lack of self-control won out.”
“Oh.” The heat rises in my cheeks, which I’m sure is now a nice shade of pink. “Sam, I will always want to talk to you.”
