Page 84 of Sing it, Sam

“Oh, babe. I’m so sorry.” He sweeps the back of his knuckles over my jaw, and then flattens his palm against my cheek. I lean into his hand and mouth“thanks”.

“There was a bit of noise last night. People in the halls. I just thought it was a full moon or something. What happened?”

“He passed in his sleep.”

Sam blows out a breath and kisses my forehead. “I can’t believe it. Magic Thommo?” Sam whispers.

A giggle bubbles up my throat as I’m drawn back to his strip show in the dining room—laughter echoing, the joy in Mr Thompson’s eyes as he let himself go. I bury my face in my hands. It’s not a time for laughter. “God, it’s not funny. What’s wrong with me?”

“Janie, you lost someone. You can’t control how you react.”

We spend a few minutes wrapped in each other’s arms before I stand to leave.

“I have a surprise for you at lunch,” I tell him and place a soft kiss to his lips.

He widens his eyes in question. “Does it involve more of your mouth?”

I smile, even though it feels like I’m being traitorous to our late friend. “Prepare yourself, Sam. Things might just get dirty.”

Sam’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “How long are you gonna keep me painfully in suspense?”

I look at my watch and back up to his heated gaze. I purse my lips knowing full well I’m being a tease. “Oh, about three hours.”

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath as I make my way to the door.

As harsh as it feels, I tell myself it’s time to get into a different headspace, to stop hurting over Mr Thompson. Sam is here, and he is very much alive. And I need to appreciate every minute that he is.

Sam deserves my full attention, and I’m going to give it to him.

***

Three hours later, I walk into Sam’s room with a giant brown paper carry-bag in one hand, and two mega milkshakes secured in a cardboard tray in the other. I tap the corner of the door to close it.

“Lunchtime,” I announce, holding them upwards. Sam is on top of the covers, reading the newspaper. A couple of magazines are strewn at his feet.

He folds the paper as I walk over and grabs the magazines, dropping them in a pile on the floor. I place the milkshakes down on his table and place the carry-bag on the bed beside me.

Sam reaches out and hooks his finger over my belt and tugs me towards him. With both arms, he grips my waist and pulls. My feet are off the ground and my full weight on top of him before I can blink. I squeal as he plants loud kisses on my neck.

“Three hours is far too long to keep a man waitin’,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly in my ear. He nips at my earlobe and tightens his hold on me, panting. I wiggle to lie on my side, my legs still hanging in mid-air. But Sam has me.In more than the physical sense.

Tentatively, I place a kiss to his cheek and pull back. “I brought dirty burgers from Grease Monkeys.”

“Hmm. I thought you smelled suspiciously like flame-grilled beef.”

I pull the bag close and unfold the top of it. Handing a burger in a box to Sam, I wink. “This is the part where we get dirty.”

He clutches at his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. “Way to crush a man’s dreams.”

“Sam, Kathleen would kill me if anything untoward happened in here. You know that.” Do I tell him we’ll have a chance to get dirty on Thursday? When the two of us will be alone?

“Yeah, I know,” he drawls and rolls his eyes.

“Hold on to those dreams. It’s only a matter of time.” I cradle the burger box and flick open the lid. The shiny brioche bun gleams, sitting atop a masterpiece of beef and bacon and green bits sticking out the side. The distinct smell of Grease Monkeys’ loaded calories floats in the air.

I glance over at Sam, and he’s staring at his burger as if I’ve just handed him a gold brick.

“Go on, eat,” I prompt, and dive in for a bite.

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