Page 125 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Forty-Four

Birds chirp outside my window as the morning sun streams through the gap in my curtains. I don’t want to get up, because when I do it means it won’t be too much longer before Sam is on his way home. I’d hold him hostage, but I don’t think I stand a chance against Ben.

“I feel like a Mack truck has run over me,” Sam says and scratches at his chest.

“I’ll have you know that I’m down to my lowest weight in years. Didn’t hear any complaints when I was on top.”

“Not you, babe. And let me just say you willneverhear me complain about that.”

I yank up the floral patchwork quilt and snuggle in closer to Sam.

“I dig this ‘waking up together’ business,” I say with a nudge of my knee against his.

“If I tell you something, promise you won’t think it’s weird,” Sam says.

“Sorry. Can’t promise you.” I peck him on the lips.

“Your place … it feels like home. More home than any place I’ve lived in in a while.”

Home. My heart does the samba in my chest. Sam likes it here. He’s comfortable. I can’t imagine any of my exes would’ve like this place. Most of them would consider it more a dump than a home.

“Really? It’s probably only a year off being pulled apart and renovated. The landlord would’ve done it sooner but he’s trying to get his finances sorted.”

“Sure, it’s not perfect, but it has this feel about it. And with you here”—he sweeps the back of his cool fingers over my cheek, brushing up towards my ear—“it’s damn well perfect.”

“Your apartment is nice, though.” It’s modern and clean, but pretty stark. I’m used to four different kinds of faded wallpaper surrounding me. White just feels so clinical—much like Sam’s room in the home. Maybe that’s why he likes it here. It’s the complete opposite of that.

“Since I moved to the city, I have to admit, I’ve barely slept.” He rubs the back of his hand across his wrinkled brow.

“How come?” Is his bed uncomfortable? The buzz of traffic keeping him awake?

“I’ve been thinking about the future and how I’m gonna get to where I need to be. It’s all been swirling about my head—my music, my writing, but more importantly, you. Our future together.”

A fog seizes my brain. I nod in the absence of coherent words forming. If he wants a future in music, he has to be in the big smoke. He has to be accessible.

Please don’t ask me to move to the city. Because I love you, and I don’t think I could say no. But I love this town. I’m a born-and-bred small-town girl. The city would choke the life-blood out of me.

I bite down on my lip to try and stop my chin from quivering.

Sam picks up on my change in mood and pulls my chest against his. “When I kick this thing for good, I’m coming back to Willow Creek,” he says and grins.

My jaw drops. It takes my brain a second to catch up. “Y-you will?”

“Yup. Not sure when, but I’m gonna make it happen. There’s just one thing that’s been on my mind. I need to ask you something.”

I gulp down. “What?”

“Have you got room for me?” Hope swirls in his eyes. It’s a beautiful sight.

“Is the sky blue?” I blurt out. Wait a sec. I have no idea if the skyisblue today. I lean up and whisk open the curtains, revealing the most beautiful of autumn days, not a cloud in sight.

I point to the open window. “See? Blue.”

A slap noise brings my head around. A sting registers seconds later on my left butt cheek. Sam pulls me back into his chest, chuckling as if he’s just told the funniest joke ever.

“Amused?”

“Yup,” he says. “You reckon you can get used to that?”

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