After Hello (28 page)

His hand reached the bend of my elbow, then continued traveling all the way up to the curve of my neck. He rested his thumb along the length of my collarbone.

I was sure he could feel my pulse increase as my heart tripped into overdrive in my chest. I couldn’t seem to breathe as deeply as I wanted to. All the nerve endings in my body felt like they’d been lined with glitter. I wondered if, when I closed my eyes, I would see myself glow on the inside.

I couldn’t look away from Sam, though. I didn’t want to. All the times I had imagined my first kiss, it had never been anything like this.

He kept his dark eyes locked with mine as he reached out and brushed a strand of my hair away from my face. His fingers left behind a trail of warmth.

Closing the distance between us, he drew me into his arms until we were almost touching along the leg, the hip, the shoulder.

Cupping my face in his hands, he leaned down until his forehead touched mine. The slope of his nose brushed against my cheekbone.

I could feel the nearness of his lips next to mine, the heat from his mouth as he breathed out the words, “Just . . . one . . . kiss.”

I felt a corresponding heat answer inside of me. I slipped my arms around him, thrilled at how natural it felt to hold him and to be held by him.

When his lips pressed against mine, I closed my eyes, feeling like a sun was rising in my chest, pouring light into my fingers and toes. In that moment, it was as if all the noise around me—the crowds of people talking and moving and shouting, the taxis crawling through the narrow lanes of traffic, the music thumping out of open windows and passing cars, all the thousands of sounds that made up the heartbeat of New York City—suddenly fell into silence.

The only thing I could hear was my own blood pulsing in my ears. The only thing I could feel was the touch of Sam’s mouth on mine. I kissed him back, lifting up on my toes as though I might fly away.

Much too soon, Sam pulled back from me ever so gently, though he kept his arms locked loosely around my waist. A delicate shiver traveled all the way through his body, and he smiled.

“
That
was exactly what I have been looking for.”

I couldn’t reply; I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

After a few moments, he turned his head and rubbed his cheek along the curve of my head. I could feel his prickly stubble against my scalp. “Sara?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I hate to have to ask, but what time is it?”

“I don’t want to know,” I said.

“I promised your dad you wouldn’t miss your flight.”

“Sa-am,” I said, my whine making his name into two syllables.

“Sa-ra,” he mimicked.

I frowned and he laughed, swiftly bending down to kiss the dimple that appeared by my mouth.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he said. “I don’t want you to go. But—”

I sighed, knowing what was coming next and hating it.

“But you can’t stay here, either,” he finished.

I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and spoke into his chest. “I know.”

We stood together for another moment before Sam stirred, separating us back into two people. “Sara—”

I recognized that tone, and it sent chills like arrows through the warmth that still filled me. “Don’t,” I said, looking up at him fiercely. “Don’t say it. I don’t want this to be good-bye.”

“I don’t want this to be good-bye either,” he said. He pulled two tattered sugar packets from his bag and held them out to me. His eyes danced with light and life. “So, tell me, Sara without an
h
—what do you want?”

The last time Sam had asked me that question, I hadn’t known what to say. This time I did. Aces had given me the answer.

“I want my life to be filled with passion.”

Sam chuckled under his breath. “That’s a tall order.”

“But not impossible. Someone once told me that if you don’t know what you want, you’ll never get it.”

“I see. And something tells me that a smart girl like you will find a way to get whatever she wants.”

“Hey, I learned from the best.”

“True.” Sam granted me that point. “But I think there is one lesson left.” He bounced the sugar packets on his palm. “Instead of saying good-bye, let’s say hello instead.”

I lifted a packet from the palm of his hand. “How is this going to become a hello?”

“The same way it became two tickets for Jess, or a coupon for a free manicure. You trade your packet; I’ll trade mine. And if we keep them moving, eventually we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

“This little packet will bring me all the way back to New York?”

Sam smiled. “You never know. Maybe my packet will take me all the way to Arizona.”

I grinned, catching the spirit of the adventure. “Are you proposing another quest?”

“You game?”

I turned the small packet over in my fingers. “Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

“Good.” He tucked the square of sugar into his pocket. “Then the next time I see you, we’ll have a proper hello.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a matching lift of hope in my chest. “And what comes after hello?”

“Anything. Everything. Whatever you want,” he said. “Just as long as it’s not good-bye.”

He held my eyes for another minute, then took a deep breath and stepped out of my arms. “So, I’ll see you around?” he said, his voice holding the slightest hint of a question.

I curled my hand into a fist around my sugar packet and nodded.

He settled his bag more firmly over his shoulder, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie, rocking his weight on his feet as though trying to decide how much effort it was going to take him to leave.

“Then I’ll see you around, Sara,” he said.

When he turned and stepped into the flow of pedestrians, I had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The moment was just like the picture I’d taken of him yesterday—the one where he was already walking away from me—but this time I knew I wasn’t supposed to follow. This time, I knew it was okay to let him go.

I thought back to the inside quiet I had felt visiting St. John’s Cathedral and in Central Park and again on Top of the Rock. I wanted that feeling all the time. And if that meant letting go of my anger and my fear, then that was what I was going to do.

I checked the clock on my phone. I still had time. I turned my face toward Times Square, toward where my dad was waiting for me. I had so much to tell him, so much to ask him about. So much to apologize for and to forgive.

I started walking, my steps quick and sure. In one hand I held the card that could lead me to my mother; in the other, I held the packet that could lead me back to Sam.

Both were equally thrilling to me.

I didn’t know if either one would work out the way I wanted them to, but I knew for sure that I was going to try.

Gotta keep moving,
I thought. Then I picked up my pace, eager to see what my future would turn out to be.

Acknowledgments

This book started with a dream. I remember dreaming the first scene—I saw Sam outside the bookstore as clearly as Sara did, right down to the Zebra Stripes hoodie and the military-green messenger bag—and I woke up knowing I wanted to write a story about him. And as I got to know Sam and Sara, their story was even better than I originally dreamed.

Thank you to the excellent team at Shadow Mountain—Chris Schoebinger, Heidi Taylor, Emily Watts, Heather Ward, and Tonya Facemyer—all of whom support me in more ways than I can count and who make the whole process feel effortless.

Thank you to my alpha and omega readers: Cindi Cox, Jen Shaw, Valerie Hill, Becca Wilhite, Ally Condie, Pam Anderton, Dennis Gaunt, and, of course, my mom. Their feedback and insight encouraged me and kept me on the right track.

A special thanks to two Facebook friends: Lisa Nickolson Green for suggesting the name Chasing Pages for the bookstore, and Addison Kanoelani for suggesting the angel pin that Rebecca trades with Sara.

And thanks to my sister-in-law Tammy, who introduced me to the music of Matt Nathanson. And thanks to Matt Nathanson for coming in concert last fall and bringing Scars on 45 to open for him. And thanks to Scars on 45 for the song “Heart on Fire.” That song and their music—and Matt’s album
Modern Love
—provided much of the soundtrack for this story to take shape.

And, as always, a special heartfelt thanks to my family—specifically my too-amazing-for-words husband, Tracy. He believes in me even when I don’t; he is my heart’s desire. And I wouldn’t trade him for all the sugar packets in the world.