Chapter Ten
Skippy’s
“We’ll let you young people enjoy the rest of your evening. Kia, ma chérie, walk with me?”
That was Celeste and I looked at her as she spoke seeing that Thomas was catching her hint and he got up and pulled out her chair so she could rise.
We’d had dinner together, Sam, Luciana, Thomas, Celeste and I, and then moved to a bar for after dinner drinks. It had been a fabulous time, a natural fit with all of them. Thomas and Sam hit it off instantly, talking sports, and Celeste and Luci hit it off instantly, talking fashion, restaurants and spas. We laughed at Thomas’s stories about people he met and things he did while he traveled, we laughed at Luci’s stories about people she met and things she did while she modeled (and traveled).
Now it was late and, even though Sam had just bought Luci another drink, it was also apparently time for Celeste and Thomas to call it a night.
And it was probably the last time I’d see them. We’d exchanged contact information during before dinner drinks but that afternoon I’d called a very curious Teri (but I didn’t share, not the time or place nor did I have the two hours to explain it all to her) to deal with the changes to my schedule and she got me on a flight to Crete a day later, the same one Sam booked when we popped by Luci’s to use her computer in order for him to do just that. Sam and I would be driving to Parma the next day, spending the night and coming back the day after, leaving early the day after that. That meant no more time with Thomas and, worse, no more time with Celeste.
Looking up at her, feeling suddenly bereft, I felt my chair move slightly and my neck twisted to see Sam had risen and was helping me up.
Farewells were exchanged, Luci and Celeste promised to meet for lunch, Sam gave Thomas a handshake and bent to let Celeste touch her cheek to his then she moved into me, wrapping her hand around my elbow, she turned her head and tipped it to Sam, saying, “We won’t keep her.”
Apparently, I was going alone.
I looked to Sam, he tipped up his chin, a small smile on his face saying he got the message then Celeste moved us away, Thomas following.
Thomas had found our table, a table on the back terrace around a corner and mostly secluded from the rest of the bar but still having a fabulous view of the lake and after we were out of sight, Celeste leaned deeper into me, her hand giving my elbow a squeeze.
“Official approval, ma belle, he’s lovely.”
I turned my head to her and whispered, “I know.”
“He has a lovely friend too. You can tell much from the company a man keeps. This says good things about him.”
I grinned and repeated, “I know.”
Her face inched closer and she asked, “If you know, why do I sense hesitation?”
I shook my head, we were still walking and I looked to my feet as I spoke. “I don’t know. Probably silly but he is who he is and I am who I am and, right now, I come with a lot of baggage on top of that and… I don’t know. I guess I wonder when he’ll figure it out. I mean, he’s explained what he sees in me but I’ve got a lot to process, what we have is very new and, as I process, for Sam, it could get very old. And I can’t stop thinking that, as I deal, eventually he’ll remember that he can have anybody so he’ll wonder why he’s putting up with me.”
At my words, Celeste stopped us firmly, turned toward me and opened her mouth to speak.
But it was Thomas who spoke.
“So can you.”
Both Celeste and I turned our heads to him and it was only then I saw how close he was.
“Sorry?” I asked quietly.
Thomas got closer, his head tipped to the side and his eyes moved over my face.
Then he smiled a strange, small, sad smile and he said softly, “Kia, I just walked through a bar and every man we passed turned to watch you. If you think you’ve been at a party with Sam, to dinner with Sam and he has not noticed this too, you would be wrong. That man is not stupid. That man knows, he doesn’t take care of what he’s found, someone else will do it. He’s Sampson Cooper and he is no fool. He knows a good thing when he sees it, my love, and you’re right, he’s very likely a man who could have anybody, that is, anybody who is his to have so, being no fool, he made certain not to delay in laying claim to you.”
I stared up at Thomas, surprised, then I reminded him, “He hasn’t laid claim to me. We’ve only just met. This is very new. Anything could happen.”
Thomas leaned in close and whispered, “Too true. So I shall look forward to when we meet again, a time when I’m certain he will have chased away those ghosts that haunt your eyes and I’ll remind you of this moment, when the beautiful Kia doubted her power over a powerful man and she’s content in the knowledge that not only did she do very well, but he did too.”
That was so nice, my eyes filled with tears and Celeste’s fingers squeezed tight.
“There is a reason I love him, you know,” she whispered in my ear, my head turned to her and she was smiling.
I fought back the tears and smiled back. Then I looked at Thomas.
Then I whispered, “Thank you.”
His eyes moved over my face then they moved to his wife then his hand came up, his fingers curled around my arm and he gave me a squeeze before dropping his hand and whispering back, “No, my love, thank you.”
I pressed my lips together.
Celeste moved back to my side and guided me forward, murmuring, “We must forge on. It wouldn’t do to burst in gales of tears in a bar.”
She sounded so horrified by this possibility, I couldn’t help but giggle.
I walked them to their car, gave Thomas a hug and a kiss on the cheek then I moved to Celeste and she immediately folded me in her arms and she didn’t do the cheek to cheek to cheek. She pressed her cheek to mine and kept it there.
My eyes started to sting again and I whispered in her ear, “Please, come visit me. I promise to share my treasures with you like you did with me.”
“We will plan, ma chérie.”
“I don’t have a spa, uh… yet, but you can meet my Mom and she’s a really good cook.”
“Better than any spa.”
She was right about that.
Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.
Until Celeste whispered, “Why can I not let you go?”
I knew why and I held her closer, whispering back, “Honey.”
Her head turned slightly, her lips almost on my ear and she whispered in a way that sounded urgent, “Please take to heart what Thomas said. I know it must be difficult but this is a good man, ma chérie, trust him to take care of you.”
My heart skipped a beat and I nodded.
“But more, trust that you’re worth taking care of.” She pulled slightly away and wrapped her fingers around my upper arms. “Oui?” she asked softly.
I smiled. “Oui.”
“Très bein,” she smiled back, gave my arms a squeeze, tipped her head to the side and whispered, “Au revoir, ma belle. We will see each other again soon.”
“Soon, Celeste.”
She closed her eyes, pulled in breath, let me go, opened her eyes and grinned at me before she walked to her husband who was standing at her opened door.
She folded in.
Thomas gave me another smile as he rounded the hood and called, “Get back to your friends, love.”
I nodded but stood there and when Thomas started up and pulled away I did it waving and I kept waving until they were no longer in sight.
Then I walked through the bar toward the back terrace and as I did it, Thomas’s words came to me and I stopped looking at my feet and started to look around.
Then I looked back down to my feet because, at a quick scan, I saw Thomas was right.
Four men were looking at me and the last one I caught his eye before looking past him and he smiled.
Holy cow.
I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t know how to process it. Ten years ago, I caught Cooter’s eye and back then I felt lucky. So lucky, I didn’t even look at another guy.
And by the time I might look, I wouldn’t. It was too late. I was too scared. I was in too deep.
So it never occurred to me they might be looking.
These thoughts so consumed my head, I was on the terrace and had just begun to turn the corner when I saw Luci cozied up to Sam, sitting very close, her head on his shoulder and I heard her say, “You mustn’t tell her. She’s too vulnerable.”
I stopped and took a step back, rounding the corner, my breath flying out of me.
“Luci –” I heard Sam begin but Luci cut him off fervently.
“No,” she hissed on a whisper. “You cannot tell her of these things, Sam. Never. And I think you see that you must stop doing them.”
“I’ve told you more than once, girl, this was the last job.”
“Yes, you have, Sam, and you also told me that before this job,” she returned.
“This was for a buddy,” Sam replied.
“There will always be another buddy,” she shot back, her voice on the last word pure acid.
“Luci, girl –” Sam started on a growl but I turned, tiptoeing away and then not knowing where I was going. I couldn’t go back, interrupting an intense and private conversation I clearly was not meant to be hearing. But I didn’t know where to go.
So, even though I had half an Amaretto at the table, I went to the bar inside and ordered another one.
Fortunately, I could do this considering Amaretto was an Italian word.
Unfortunately, after I did it, I realized that I didn’t have my purse with me.
Damn.
I tried to figure out how to smile and sign language my way through telling the bartender I needed to run and get my purse when the bartender put the snifter on the bar, started pouring and I saw a bill slide across the bar to him.
I turned to see the man who had smiled at me standing beside me.
Uh-oh.
“You’re American,” he stated and I stared up at him, vaguely noting he was Italian, also vaguely noting he was very good-looking and not-so-vaguely noting I somehow had to get out of this but not knowing how.
“Uh, yes, –”
“The hair,” he explained, his head tipping toward mine. “I can tell by your hair.”
“Oh, right, well then –”
“And you are quite tall. American women are often quite tall.”
“Oh, okay, listen, I should –”
“And shapely,” he went on.
Oh man.
“Right. Thanks, I think, but –”
“I am Angelo.”
“Uh, hi, um –”
He leaned into me as the bartender swept his bill away and left my snifter where it sat.
Shit!
“And you are?”
“Well, I’m Kia, but –”
He leaned in further, I leaned a little back, hopefully making a point and failing when his eyes dropped to my chest and he murmured, “Kia, that is very pretty.”
“Uh –”
His eyes lifted back to mine then they went over my shoulder and higher then he paled and he leaned back right before an arm closed around my chest and a pair of lips brushed my shoulder before coming to my ear and I heard Sam whisper, “There you are.”
Oh man!
Then his lips went away from my ear and I heard him ask, “Somethin’ you need?” and my neck twisted and my head moved back to see his eyes locked on Angelo and not in a friendly, “I’m an American on vacation and thus will at all times act like a diplomat for my country” kind of way.
Oh man!
“Uh, Sam, honey, this is Angelo and he bought my drink because I forgot my purse,” I lied as I threw a hand out to Angelo then I looked to him and said, “Um, Angelo this is Sam, my, uh… special friend.”
Ohmigod!
Did I just call Sam my “special friend”?
Before I could spontaneously combust with mortification, Angelo, eyes on Sam, spoke. “I see.” His eyes came to me. “The lovely Kia, I will leave you to your friend. Enjoy your drink.”
Then he inclined his head at me, turned away and melted into the people around the bar.
Well, that was well done.
Sam turned me so we were front to front then his arms locked around me.
Uh-oh.
I was beginning to learn the feel of the different ways he could hold me and this felt like danger!
I took my time looking up at him.
Then my eyes made it to his face.
I was right.
Oh man.
“Sam –”
“He bought you a drink?”
“Sam, listen –”
“And you gave him your name?”
Shit.
“Sam –”
“You’ve got a drink at the table,” Sam pointed out, again talking over me.
“Sam!” I snapped.
“What?” he asked.
“I, well… I forgot my drink at the table.” This was a lie. “And the farewell with Celeste was kind of emotional.” This was not a lie. “So I needed one, like, STAT.” This was also not a lie but what he didn’t know was that he was talking to Luci about stuff I couldn’t hear, but I heard, so I couldn’t get to the one I already had. “And I was thinking about stuff so I wasn’t thinking I didn’t have my purse when I ordered it and before I could figure out how to sign language that to the bartender, Angelo stepped in and he let me say less than you normally let me say when you’ve got something to say and you keep interrupting me.”
“So you let him buy you a drink,” Sam stated.
“I’m not sure it was a ‘let’ situation since it all happened so quickly but, strictly speaking, yes.”
“The word for ‘no’ in Italian, baby, is no,” Sam leaned into me on the last word and I glared at him.
“I know that.”
“So, next time, use that. We’ll look up the Greek word for ‘no’ so you’ll be sure to know how to stop from letting that happen when we’re on Crete.”
“It’s hardly going to happen on Crete.”
“You been to Crete?”
I shook my head.
“Greece?”
I shook my head again.
“Right, well, head’s up, Greek men are known world-wide as accomplished players and they like blondes and, my guess is, they really like blondes with legs that go on forever, asses that, just from lookin’ at ‘em, they know they want in their hands and –”
“All right, all right,” I interrupted him, “your point is made.”
That was when his face got super close and his arms held me in a warning! way.
I was not wrong and I knew this when he said, “Good. Then I’ll take this time to be certain you totally get my point. Italy, Crete, Bangladesh or Skippy’s, I buy your drinks. No other man does. You don’t give them your name to be friendly or at all unless I’m standin’ right beside you and they get where I’m at. Now do you get where I’m at?”
I didn’t answer him. I was stuck at something he’d said in the middle of acting like a Neanderthal.
“Skippy’s?” I asked.
“What?”
“You said Skippy’s,” I told him.
“Yeah.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a crab shack close to my house that Gordo and I hung at and now where Luci and I hang at.”
I stared at him.
He was an ex-football player. He was an ex-commando. Ex-football player commandos hung at bars called “Thor’s” or “Jethro’s Fire Rocket Barbeque” or “Hellhound Roadhouse”.
Not “Skippy’s Crab Shack”.
“You hang at a place called ‘Skippy’s’?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Skippy’s?” I repeated my question with fewer words.
“Uh… yeah,” he repeated his answer with another syllable and a lot less patience.
“Is its full name ‘Skippy’s You Can Eat ‘Em but You Gotta Wrestle ‘Em First Crab Shack’?”
Sam had no answer for that; he just stared down at me.
Then he didn’t answer but instead asked, “Right, how the fuck am I pissed that I go to find my woman and see some guy in her space, find out not only did she let him buy her a drink but she gave him her name and I make myself clear about how I feel about that and instead of her confirming she gets me, she’s talkin’ about Skippy’s and for some fuckin’ reason, instead of me pushin’ she gets me, I wanna laugh my ass off?”
He sounded disgruntled.
Since I didn’t have an answer and I also didn’t want to make him more disgruntled, I decided to shrug.
Sam tipped his eyes heavenward and sighed.
I bit my lip.
Sam tipped his eyes back to me and stated quietly, “No, Skippy’s is just Skippy’s, the best fried crab sandwich you’ll find on the eastern seaboard and I say that with authority seein’ as Gordo and me put some research into that. And no, Skip does not make you wrestle the crabs before eatin’ them. Now, honey, takin’ us back, do you… get me?”
“I get you,” I whispered.
He stared down at me.
Then he muttered like he was talking to himself, “I don’t know if I want her to figure out she’s fuckin’ gorgeous so she isn’t so fuckin’ clueless when a player marks her or if I’m glad I finally got one who looks as good as her and has no fuckin’ clue.”
“Are you wanting me to participate in this discussion or are you having a conversation with yourself?”
“Your participation isn’t required,” Sam replied.
“I didn’t think so,” I mumbled, my eyes sliding away.
That was when I felt Sam’s body shaking and I looked up to see him grinning. Then one of his hands went to my jaw, he tipped my head further back and, to my shock (but it couldn’t be said, displeasure), he laid a hot, wet, deep, heavy and long one on me.
I was holding on tight and breathing erratically when he lifted his head, muttered, “Now they get me,” then he turned me, tagged my drink and walked me back to the table.
I drank my half Amaretto while I chatted with Luciana and while we chatted, Sam had one of his arms draped around the back of my chair, his torso toward me (and in the direction of Luci), his other arm draped across my lap. Then, when I was into my second Amaretto, Luci needed another drink so Sam got up to get her one.
But before he did, his hand gave my thigh a squeeze that caught my attention, my head turned to him and he caught my eye, the eye catch meaningful I just didn’t know what it meant. I felt my brows draw together and tipped my head slightly, his gaze cut swiftly to Luci and back. Light dawned, I gave a slight nod then he gave my thigh another squeeze and took off.
I turned to Luci to see she was watching Sam leave.
Then she turned to me and announced, “I very much like you two together.”
I smiled at her.
Then I whispered, “I very much like us together too.”
She smiled back.
Then she scooted her chair close, turned into me and confided quietly. “Sam very much likes you two together too.”
I pulled in a soft breath then shared, “I’m beginning to get that.”
She studied my face a moment then deduced, “He is breaking through.”
“It would be hard not to, considering he’s using a sledgehammer.”
She threw her head back and laughed and I did it with her (without the throwing my head back part).
Then, with a smile on her face, she righted her head but her eyes went to the lake and she murmured, “Our boys, they are not subtle.”
My heart skipped.
Our boys.
Before I could say word one, she did.
“I was at a party when I met Travis. I was very confident, which was what I liked to think. My father said I was vain. Back then, I think I was. Young, I had so much attention, I liked it. I saw Travis across the room and I chose him. In that day, back then, that was all I had to do. I chose them and they came to me and I made them dance. I caught his eyes and he came to me. I tried to make him dance,” her eyes slid to me and her smile was small and melancholy when she whispered, “Travis Gordon was not a man who danced.”
I didn’t know what to do, whether to touch her, take her hand but before I could do anything, she looked back toward the darkened lake and kept talking.
“He walked away. Five minutes he spoke with me then he tipped his chin up at me, said, ‘Enjoy your evening,’ and walked away. I thought it was a game. It wasn’t. Three hours we were at the same party and he didn’t look at me again. I thought he was trying to make me come to him while I was trying to make him come to me. Then I saw him leaving and he didn’t even glance my way. I knew then he was not going to come to me and worse, he was not playing any games. And it occurred to me that if he left, I would never see him again. And, I don’t know, I found I simply could not let him go.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “So I followed him.”
She fell silent.
I waited.
She spoke again.
“I caught him outside, walking down the sidewalk. I had on very high heels and I was nearly running. If I had… if we didn’t have…” she pulled in an unsteady breath, “it would have been quite humiliating if things did not turn out the way they did. But he heard my heels, he stopped and I made it to him. Immediately, he asked, ‘Done with that shit?’” I watched her profile smile another small, wistful smile. “What could I say?” She turned her head to me. “I said, ‘Yes’.”
I smiled at her and mine was small too and probably melancholy.
She looked back to the sea.
“Right then, he said, ‘Tomorrow night, I’m taking you to dinner. If you make an excuse, I’ll know it’s a game and offer rescinded. With that bullshit in there, you bought that. Now, are we going to dinner?’” She paused then whispered, “‘Offer rescinded’. So Travis.”
“I take it you said yes,” I prompted softly when she didn’t go on for awhile.
She nodded and looked at me. “Oh yes, cara mia, I said yes and that was the most important word I said in my life until a year later when I said the words, ‘I do’.”
I felt tears sting my nose and was about to reach for her hand when she suddenly twisted to me and reached for mine, grasping it tight, moving into my space and her other hand came up to cup my cheek.
“Three hours, I played my game, three hours,” she said quietly, quickly, vehemently. “You must know what I would do to get back those three hours with my Travis.”
My hand grew tight in hers and I whispered, “Luci –”
Her face got closer. “Do not be foolish as me, Kia, do not waste even three minutes with a good man. Do not.”
“Honey, maybe we should talk about you,” I suggested carefully and this was not a fishing expedition for Sam, this was Luci and me and Lake Como and Travis Gordon having a lock on her heart from the grave, so tight, it was never letting go.
“No, you are off to Parma tomorrow then Crete and I am not going home to North Carolina for two months. I have little time with you and I need you to learn from my mistake, Kia, I need it.”
“Luci, that’s what I think we should talk about.”
She shook her head, determined to stay on her subject. “Sam is a good man.”
“I know.”
“And anything can happen tomorrow.”
“Luci, please,” I lifted my other hand and took hers from my face then holding both of hers in mine between us, I shook them, “nothing is going to happen tomorrow and –”
“The future is always very bright, Kia, until suddenly, one day, it becomes nothing but black.”
Oh God.
“Luci –”
“Do not be angry at him but he has shared with me about you. Not much and not much more than what I have assumed from hearing you talk to Celeste on the phone. And I care for Sam, very deeply, he was Travis’s friend and he was mine and after I lost Travis, I… I don’t… well, I don’t know what I would have done without him. We have grown even closer since and I want him to be happy. But I would not steer you or any woman wrong to make that happen. But he is a good man, through and through, Kia. He will take care of you. I know this to be true. Let him take care of you, cara, let him make you happy and while he’s doing it, you make him happy too.”
“Luci, honey, we just met a few days ago.”
She looked me straight in the eye and declared, “You know.”
I pulled in breath.
She went on. “And he does too.”
“I –”
“And I did too. And Travis told me, many weeks later, he looked across that room and saw me and he knew. And when he approached me and I was not what that looked promised him I’d be, he was very disappointed. But, three hours later, he was filled with joy because when I ran after him, he knew he was not wrong.” She shook my hands. “And he was not. Nor is Sam. Nor are you.”
I held her eyes, they were fretful and I did the only thing I could do.
I gave her my promise.
“I won’t waste a minute, Luci. I promise.”
Instantly, she smiled gleefully, released my hands but put hers on both sides of my head, pulling me forward, she kissed one of my cheeks then the other then she pushed me back and demanded, “You must inform me the minute Sam proposes and I will immediately speak with Massimo.”
I blinked through a heart spasm and a belly plummet. The latter was at the thought of Sam proposing. The former was at the mention of the fabulous designer known only as “Massimo”.
“Massimo?” I whispered.
“Why yes,” she replied, letting me go and whisking up the dregs of her drink then sucking them back, she replaced the glass on the table and informed me, “He designed my wedding gown. He adores me. We’re the closest of friends, outside Sam, of course. At my request, he would be delighted to design yours too.”
I was pretty certain I wheezed audibly at this announcement but Luciana didn’t hear it because at this point Sam returned with her drink. Then he sat next to me and wrapped himself around me again.
Luci started chattering again while I controlled my hyperventilating and did this by sipping my Amaretto. Eventually, I got myself together enough to join the conversation; I finished my drink, Luci hers, Sam his sparkling water and Sam said it was time to call it a night. He escorted us both to the pavement, got Luci a taxi, deposited her in it and she was whisked away while waving.
Sam waited until he had me in the Lamborghini and we were on the road for the twenty minute drive back to the hotel before he asked, “Well?”
I took in a breath.
Then I said softly, “As we suspected, it’s bad Sam.”
“How bad?”
“Bad as in, if there is any possible way that you think she’d agree to professional grief counseling, she should start immediately.”
Sam was silent.
Carefully, into the void, I asked, “How did Travis die?”
“Assignment,” was Sam’s short, uninformative answer and my mind harkened back to them talking earlier, something I completely forgot about and since I was not supposed to have heard it and he didn’t know I did, I couldn’t ask if Travis’s assignment was official or if, perchance, it was unofficial and further if, perchance, Sam was also taking unofficial assignments which, frankly, scared the beejeezus out of me.
So I said nothing.
This time, Sam broke the silence. “How do you know this?”
“She’s lamenting the three hours she played a game with him the first night she met him, wishing she had that time back. Regretting her decision to try and make him dance. She remembers every word they spoke to each other that first meeting and can recite it and she told me the most important words she’s said in her life are, ‘I do’. And last, she said that the future is always bright until one day, suddenly, it turns black.”
“That’s bad,” Sam muttered.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Sam sighed.
I remained silent for awhile.
Then I asked, “Should we ask her to come to Parma with us tomorrow?”
“I’ll think about it, baby,” Sam answered quietly. “But I think I need to call her father tomorrow. Vitale is worried, we’ve talked. She listens to him. I’ll tell him this and see what he says.”
“Okay,” I said softly, Sam reached out, took my hand and pulled it to him.
I thought he was going to hold it and he did but first he lifted it to his mouth and brushed my knuckles against his lips before he dropped it to his thigh and muttered, “Grateful for that, honey.”
For a second, I didn’t speak. For a second, the whisper-soft touch of his lips on my knuckles, the sweet way he did it, why he did it, grateful to me for talking to a friend he was worried about, took that moment to burn in my brain.
Then I whispered, “Not a problem,” and squeezed his hand.
He squeezed back.
I kept my gaze steady out the windshield and thought of Travis Gordon being impatient with the lushly attractive Luciana’s game, walking away from her and when she ran after him, asking, “Done with that shit?”
That was so Sam. In fact, he almost said the same thing to me when he thought I was playing a game.
And Sam was so big, so strong, so powerful, so vital, I couldn’t imagine him suddenly being none of those things and instead nothing but gone.
So I sucked in breath through my nose and remembered my promise to Luci not to waste a second.
Fifteen minutes later, my promise was put to the test when we were standing outside my door, Sam slid my key out of my hand, opened it and held it open for me to go in. He followed me, threw the key on the table by the door and stood there.
I was walking in, pulling my purse off my shoulder when I noticed and looked back at him.
“Come here, Kia,” he ordered gently.
I threw my bag on a chair and walked to him, head tilted in confusion.
When I made it to him, his arms slid loosely around me, he tipped his chin down and he said quietly, “I’ve been pushin’ and today, I see I pushed too hard. I’m gonna give you some space tonight. You get up, call me and I’ll meet you for breakfast before we go.”
I stared up at him.
He bent his neck and kissed my nose.
My nose.
“Sleep well and have good dreams,” he whispered, gave me a light squeeze, let me go, turned, opened and walked through the door.
I stood there while he did all that except, when the door started closing, I caught it, moved into it, leaned into the hall then asked Sam’s departing back, “You’re leaving?”
He stopped, turned and looked at me.
“You need space,” he informed me.
“Don’t tell me what I need, Sam. Only I know what I need.”
He held my eyes.
I leaned further forward, stretched out an arm and grabbed his hand.
That was all I had to do.
In half of one of his long strides, he was at me, crowding me and I was back through the door. Then he bent and, with a small, surprised cry, I was over his shoulder. The door clicked shut and in five strides Sam tossed me on the bed.
Then he followed me down.
* * * * *
Eight hours and forty-five minutes later…
Sam and I walked into the dining room together holding hands and, when his eyes caught sight of us, dropped to our hands then back to my face, I didn’t have to speak Italian to translate the maitre d’s look of pure, unadulterated glee.