CHAPTER 4
ABI
My Very First Boyfriend
When I was younger, Mullins Grocery was the only fully stocked store in Molly’s Knob. During the summer, farmer’s markets popped up all over the place, but to get things that couldn’t be grown in the ground or picked from a tree, Mullins’s was the place to go. On a drive through town this morning in search of coffee—still not a Starbucks to be found—I discovered that’s yet another thing that hasn’t changed. Mullins Grocery is the only option for shopping here. At least a McDonald’s has been added to the corner of College Street and Main. That’s some small sign of progress.
Within a minute of entering the store, I find that, although Mullins’s has been remodeled to almost double its size, the store has remained basically the same. Even the bright green stickers shaped like clouds, announcing sales on certain items, hasn’t changed. It’s another little thing that catapults me back to a simpler, happier time.
Lazily, I push my buggy up and down the aisles, browsing for things to fill my fridge and pantry. For the first time in ages, I’m enjoying a task as basic as shopping. It seems a strange thing to note, but note it I do.
I’m studying a deli box of fresh grated Parmesan, not watching where I’m going as I round the corner, when I plow into another cart.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” I exclaim reflexively before I even look up to see the driver of the other buggy.
“No problem,” comes the deep rumble of an answering voice. “Nothing broken.”
The fine hairs on my arms stand up, my body recognizing something familiar long before my brain does. Slowly, with a mixture of anxiety and excitement fluttering in my stomach, I raise my gaze to the face that goes with the voice. I’m not surprised when it collides with eyes the color of a dove’s wing.
“Sam Forrester.” I stare for a few seconds, my lips curving into a smile. But then, before I can stop myself, a laugh is bubbling up and I’m rounding my cart to wrap my arms around shoulders that seem even wider than they did when I was seventeen years old and head-over-heels in love.
My very first boyfriend is still tall and trim and gorgeous, and he’s standing right in front of me at ten o’clock on a sunny Friday morning in May. What are the odds?
In the wreckage that is my life, seeing Sam is like a life raft from the past, a bright dot of salvation floating on the otherwise bleak horizon. I didn’t realize how much I needed this place. Or to see kind, familiar faces again.
Or maybe I did.
Maybe that’s part of the reason I’m here.
Maybe some part of me wants to be comforted, loved. Even saved.
He smells of soap and something spicy, and he raises one arm to give me a quick squeeze before he lets go. I step away, still caught up in the pure pleasure of seeing him again—so unexpectedly, too—and I simply take him in.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I declare, although that’s not entirely true. His hair is still as black as ever, his cheekbones are still as sharp as ever, and he is every bit as handsome, if not more so, than he was as a teenager. But it’s clear he’s settled into his features. Into his body, too. Sam is like a fine wine that’s gotten better with age. It seems he was just waiting for some years to pass before he became the total package he was always destined to be.
“You have,” he says quietly. “You’re even more beautiful than you used to be.”
I blush, even though I’m not a blusher. But this is Sam Forrester. Sam. My Sam, the boy who stole my heart and never gave it back. “Thank you. Clearly, you’re still a charmer.”
He doesn’t respond. He just watches me. Warily almost. That’s when I notice that he seems…quieter than he used to be. More somber. Burdened.
“What are you doing back here?” he asks.
Like a balloon with a pinprick in it, I can feel the pleasure of seeing him begin to drain from me, leaving me with the harsh, deflated reality of exactly why I am here.
“Vacation.” My smile threatens to wobble, but I hold it in place. Firmly. Ruthlessly. Seconds ago, I was simply thrilled to see my old flame again. Now I can’t wait to get away.
“Ah. Are you here with family, or…?”
I glance down at my fingers as they grip and ungrip, grip and ungrip the edge of my shopping cart. “Nope. Just me.”
Again, he says nothing. Luckily that gives me time to work up and plaster onto my face some semblance of a normal, polite, unaffected expression. Only then can I meet his eyes again.
“So, you stayed around here. Obviously.” I roll my eyes and bark a self-deprecating laugh. “What do you do now?”
For me, it’s much easier to ask the questions, to express the interest than to receive. I find that most people are more than happy to answer, too. The difference between them and me is that the average person doesn’t have as much to hide as I do. Questions about my life, about my past, about my motives make me distinctly uncomfortable.
“I have a family practice here in town.”
“Family practice? As in medical?” I scan his frame, this time noting his attire. He’s wearing a gray button-up shirt that matches his eyes. It’s open at the throat, and the slacks that sit low on his hips are only a few shades darker. The ensemble gives him a casual yet professional appearance. I can absolutely see a hot doctor in his thirties wearing something like this. On Sam, it fits. I can even picture him in a white lab coat, questioning a child about a sore throat or listening to an old woman describe her back pain.
“Yes, as in medical.”
The amusement in his voice registers, and a distant part of my brain realizes that the humor isn’t reflected in his eyes. In my excitement over seeing him again, I didn’t notice some very important details about my Sam, like the fact that his eyes don’t sparkle with happiness the way they used to. Of course mine don’t either, but I have my reasons. So many reasons.
Sam must have his reasons, too. And I can’t help wondering what they are.
“I didn’t know you wanted to be a doctor.”
“I didn’t either. Not until after you left. I had a lot of time on my hands. I ended up doing some volunteering to beef up my college applications. I signed up for a summer at the hospital. One thing led to another and a decade later…” He holds out his hands as if to say Voila!
“Wow, you really did something good with your life.” A lump of remorse swells at the base of my throat and I swallow several times to force it down.
“I tried.”
“You did.”
He shrugs modestly, something I never would’ve imagined Sam doing. Sam was always cocky. Not obnoxious, but he was very confident in that uber attractive way. But this Sam, this older, more mature Sam is humble. The thing is, it suits him. In fact, strangely enough, I think this might be an even more attractive look for him. He doesn’t have to strut out his awesomeness anymore. He’s living it. That much is plain to see.
Still, there’s something not quite happy about him, an air of sadness or…heaviness that lies just beneath his words. It drifts behind the gray of his eyes like storm clouds hovering out in the distance.
“Are you…” I glance down at his hand, getting an answer to my question before I even finish asking it. “Are you married?”
Sam rubs his thumb over the gold band encircling the fourth finger on his left hand. “I am.”
“You found your happy,” I murmur softly.
“I did.”
I tilt my head to the side, happy that he’s happy, even though there’s an ache in my chest that I’ve never quite gotten rid of. “Who’s the lucky woman?”
“You don’t know her. I met her in college, after you left.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, I feel awkward, like I’m prying and he’s just too polite to tell me to mind my own business. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing so well. It’s…it’s really good to see you, Sam.”
“Good to see you, too, Abi.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and once more I’m impressed with a sense of weight. Gravity. What’s going on with Sam Forrester? What sadness does he carry with him to the grocery store at ten o’clock on a sunny Friday morning in May?
“See ya around,” I say, rolling one way as he rolls the other.
Even though I don’t look back, I take Sam with me when I leave, just like I did all those years ago. I never could get him out of my head. Now is no different, it seems. Only these days, it appears that Sam might be in need of some help. I make the resolution as I walk away that if I can help him, if it’s within my power to ease the burden he carries, I will do it. I owe him that much.