Page 33 of Begin Again
I’ve thought about performing badly, making bad dishes so that he’ll fire me. But I don’t want to ruin my own reputation. Plus, I don’t think I could ever send out a bad dish even if I wanted to get away from him.
Sweat drips down my back as I reach my apartment building.
I’m too tired to think about it now, I don’t have to work tomorrow—today I guess—so I’ll come up with a better game plan after I’ve slept. I promised Sam when he left three months ago that I’d try to quit while he was gone, and he’ll be back any day now and I still work with and for Mitch. It’s something I hateand not a conversation I’m ready to have with Sam about why I’m still working there, because I don’t think he’ll understand.
When I open the door to our apartment, the cool AC air hits me with sweet relief from the humid night air. I hear the hum of the TV and see the glow of the screen before I see Sam sitting on the couch.
“You’re back!” I try to contain the excitement from my voice, but a little slips out. The feeling of relief I had after leaving work grows, but it burns within me and I feel better than I have in weeks. Sam is back.
“Mhm,” he says with a grimace.
“What’s wrong?” I hurry to him, kneeling in front of him and watch as his face twists in pain as he shifts into a better position. “What happened?”
“Fell,” he breathes out, like the word itself pains him.
My stomach squirms. He’s done thousands of tricks at this point, but he’s always been safe. He’s never gotten severely injured, not that I know about anyway. “What happened?”
“Trick went bad,” Sam wheezes. “My back.”
“We’ve got to get you to an urgent care,” I say, trying to figure out how I’ll get him off the couch, down the stairs and into his car and to the urgent care. I’m not super tiny, but he is a lot bigger than me, and he’s got a lot more muscle mass and is at least six inches taller than me.
“No.” It’s the first time his words haven’t sounded like he’s in pain. “I can’t go, they’ll tell me I need surgery or some other procedure and I can’t afford that. I don’t have insurance.”
“Don’t you make like a million dollars a year?”
He laughs, then winces. “Not that much.”
“Why don’t you have insurance?” That’s stupid. He should have insurance. Especially because of what he does on a day to day basis.
“Too expensive.” He closes his eyes. “I spent all my savings. I can’t afford surgery. I was just upstate, so the ride back wasn’t terrible.”
An incredibly ridiculous idea comes to me. “I’ve got great insurance,” I blurt out. The idea is something I’ve only ever read about in romance novels, but it could work. Because yes, I do occasionally read a romance novel that isn’t a classic.
His eyes open and he looks at me for a beat. I can see something brewing underneath the pain. “You didn’t quit?”
“I’ve got great insurance,” I repeat, ignoring his question. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like this is a bad idea, one I shouldn’t get into, but the words come out anyway. “Let’s get married. Then you can get whatever care you need, and if you need it, you can get surgery. You shouldn’t just live with this pain in your back.”
He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
Which I probably have. Another thought hits me hard, one that I don’t share with him.Maybe if I get married, Mitch will leave me alone, he’ll stop holding my career over my head.I can’t say that to Sam though, because then he’ll want me to quit so that my ex stops bothering me—or at least the idea of him will stop bothering me—and Sam still won’t be able to get the surgery or whatever care he’ll need.
I meet his eyes again, determined to convince him that this plan is foolproof. “We could get married, we could go to the courthouse today and then go to the hospital right after and get you taken care of. My insurance will cover you as soon as we’re legally married. It’ll be perfect.”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“We’ll just tell anyone who asks that while you were on your trip we both realized that we should be together, that we’ve loved each other for so long that it was dumb to not be together any longer.” It’s not exactly a lie I realize as the words come out. Ilove Sam.I am in love with him.The realization nearly takes my breath away. I don’t know how it happened or what I’m going to do about my feelings, but I love him. I fell in love with my best friend. He’s the one I want to call when I have a bad day or even a good day. I look forward to seeing him, and he’s the only man I truly feel comfortable around besides my brother—but he doesn’t really count, because I’m related to him.
I’m still opposed to the idea of a real marriage and everything that comes with it, especially after what happened with Mitch. But marrying him as his friend so that he can get taken care of and not be in pain anymore? That I can do. I’ll worry about my feelings another time. I push them away and watch as he takes my proposal in.
“Why would you do that?” he asks, his voice strangled. “You know how I feel about you.”
It’s my turn to blink at him. I will myself not to blush. Not with my newfound realization that we feel the same way. But now is not the time for feelings, we need to be practical about this.
“I’m never going to marry anyone else, Sam. And you can’t seem to date a woman long enough to get to the point where you want to propose. I’ve got great insurance. I can help you. You’ve done so much for me over the years, let me do this for you.”
This is logical. And completely delusional, but I won’t admit that. I shouldn’t marry my best friend—who I also happen to be in love with—simply so he can use my insurance.
But the fact that it could also get Mitch off my back is a huge motivator. And,I’ll be married to Sam.
