Living With Regret (27 page)

“Looks like you made yourself comfortable.” I’m so lost in the pattern of the stars above that I didn’t hear him come in.

“I didn’t realize these things came with a star roof.”

“It’s one of the many amenities, and to think I got it all for less than $200.”

I slide over, giving him room to crawl in next to me. “If it came with a bathroom and kitchen, you could almost live in one.”

“Until winter comes,” he says, pulling his side of the sleeping bag over both of us. “Zip it up.”

“Why? This is fine.”

“I said I’d share my sleeping bag with you, and I meant it. Now zip it.” He says it like it’s an order rather than a request. This is one time I’m okay with him being bossy. Being this close to him will probably give me the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time. I do as he asks, settling my body up next to his. He lies on his side. I’m on my back.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, his arm wrapping around my stomach.

“Much, but do you know what would help?”

“Hmm.”

“A few more of those kisses you gave me outside.” I try not to stare at his lips, but I can’t help it. Anything that perfect deserves to be stared at.

“If that’s all it’s going to take, lift your head.” I do as he asks, allowing his arms to snake beneath me. His fingers run through the strands of my long blond hair, and his generous lips come down on mine. It feels so good, so right. Nothing’s better than a kiss under the stars, especially when you’re with someone who makes you feel like part of a new pattern. With Sam, I’m forming the most meaningful, brightest of constellations.

September 29, 2013

AS I STEP OUTSIDE,
rain pelts my face. It’s been a long day of deliveries with weather like this, and luckily, this is my last. This being my first job, I’m finally starting to appreciate the concept of Friday and why everyone looks forward to it. It’s not that I don’t like my job, because I do, but it’s just nice to have days to do whatever I want. More than anything, it’s nice to have more time to spend with Sam.

It’s been five nights since I slept under the stars with Sam. It was a cool night, but being wrapped in his arms under a large sleeping bag left me with the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a really long time. His warm, sweet kisses helped too.

We’ve made it a point to see each other every day, whether that means meeting for lunch or watching a movie at his place after work. It’s getting too cold to stay out in the fields, but after last weekend, I’m looking forward to doing that again this summer.

I’ve spent every night in my own bed, drifting to sleep with thoughts of Cory and the argument we had. I try to bury them down with thoughts of Sam, but it doesn’t work as well when Sam isn’t with me. Sam makes me forget.

When I finally reach the hospital doors, my shirt is soaked through, and my hair is a ratted mess. That’s another thing about this job—it’s virtually impossible to carry a vase full of flowers and an umbrella at the same time. It leaves no way to open the door.

The hospital greets me with the smell I hate and institutional colors I loathe.

“Rachel, is that you?” I look over to the waiting area, seeing Cory’s mom and sister occupying two chairs.

I hesitantly walk over, my hand gripped tightly around the glass vase. “Hi,” I answer, managing something that feels sort of like a smile.

“I thought you’d be back at school,” his mom says, her eyes roaming my disheveled appearance. Everyone in this small town knows everything about who is coming and going. There’s little possibility that she didn’t know, but she’s probably waiting for me to admit that I didn’t just ruin Cory’s life … I ruined mine, too.

“I’m taking the year off, helping Ms. Peters at the shop,” I reply, nervously shifting on my feet.

“I see.” Awkward silence follows. Maybe I should have just kept walking, told her I had to be going to make my deliveries on time.

I feel mindless, grasping at straws for something to say. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, Craig had to have some tests done. We’re just waiting.” Cory’s dad had some heart problems a couple years back. It required a surgery to clear a blockage.

“I hope everything is okay.”

She throws her hand out like it’s nothing. “It’s just routine stuff. That’s what happens when you get older.”

The more I stand here, the more relaxed I feel, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. The one they’re probably holding to kick me in the teeth with.

“Well, it was nice to see you. I better get these delivered before someone calls and wonders where they are.”

I start walking away, ready to get out of here before my luck runs out, but Mrs. Connors stops me before I get too far. “Rachel, can I speak with you for a second?”

I stop, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. My whole body stiffens. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for the way I acted in the cemetery. I know this can’t be easy for you, so I hope you can at least understand where I was coming from.”

Only then do I dare face her. She’s given me a small, soft pillow to fall back on. “I understand, and I hope you know that I’m so sorry. I wish things had turned out differently, but I can’t go back.”

“I know,” she says, her bottom lip quivering. “I just miss him, you know?”

I nod. Every day I see something or hear something that makes me miss him, too. Fifty years from now I’ll still think about him. I can’t forget my firsts.

“Thank you for the box, by the way. Not everything in it was mine, but I doubt you want that item back,” I say hesitantly, watching for any indication of malice in her eyes. That whole thing has bothered me since I opened it, no matter how much I try to forget.

Her eyebrows draw in, and I take a deep breath. She has absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. “Whatever it is, keep it. I’m sure he’d want you to have it.”

After all this time, talking about him still makes her face twist. She’s so close to crying, and it automatically stirs those same emotions up in me. “Anyway, I should probably get going.”

She nods. “Okay, don’t be a stranger. Please.”

“I’ll try not to.”

The interaction between us feels too uncomfortable to become something more common, but at least I won’t be as scared to run into her around town.

I make my way to the receptionist desk to drop off the flowers, then quickly exit. Anywhere but here is where I want to be. It’s not just the people inside who scare me away; it’s the bad memories this place holds. Bad things didn’t happen here, but I learned of them within these walls. The smell, the color, everything makes me think of things I’d rather forget.

When I come out from under the awning, the rain is falling harder, drenching any part of me that wasn’t already wet. At least this time I can run since I have nothing to carry. I push the unlock button as soon as my car is in view and climb in so fast, only a few drops fall on the inside of my door.

For several minutes, I just listen to the rain against the car windows. The sound soothes me as I rest my head back on the seat. I don’t know what wound me up more—the fact that I ran into Cory’s family or that it went better than I’d expected. Preparing myself for the worst was almost as bad as actually facing it.

That’s something I’ve learned lately. Things are rarely as bad as I think they’re going to be. I’m resilient … much stronger than I ever thought I could be.

Just as I’m about to head back to the shop to clock out for the day, my phone buzzes. Picking it up, I realize it’s Sam. He must be off work already.

Sam: Can I cook you dinner tonight?

Rachel: I thought you didn’t cook.

Sam: I order a mean pizza.

This will be the third time this week that Sam has “cooked” for me. Not that I mind it. It’s better than an awkward meal at home with Mom staring at Dad’s empty chair.

Rachel: That you do. Getting off work. Be there around 6:30?

Sam: Or sooner.

Sam is all I need to motivate myself out of this parking lot. Spending the night cuddled on the couch with him, listening to the rain. He’s one of the best things to ever come into my life. I’ll always be grateful that my mom had the church ladies over that day almost twelve years ago.

The first couple times I came up to Sam’s apartment, it didn’t feel quite right. Now I walk right in like the place is mine. No knocking. No soft footsteps. When I reach the door at the top of the steps, my knuckles brush against the door, not for him to answer, but to let him know I’m coming in.

He’s always in the kitchen … that’s no different tonight. Blue jeans. A white muscle-hugging, long sleeve T-shirt. No shoes or socks. He’s truly a vision of pure, uncensored human sexuality. I’m relieved they didn’t teach us about the little tingles in the stomach that come with attraction back in Sex Ed because it’s so much better when it just hits you without warning.

“Hey,” he says, stalking over to where I stand frozen inside the door. The best part of his greeting is the kiss. He’ll grip my chin with his calloused fingers and bring his lips down to mine with his eyes open. Up until a few days ago, I always kissed with my eyes closed. I thought it was better that way, but Sam showed me how much more you can feel when you do it with your eyes and lips. I see deep inside him and feel him even more when I take in the warmth of his brown eyes.

Sam makes hours feel like seconds. He has this ability to make me get lost in him.

When he pulls back, a grin spreads across his face. “It’s kind of rude of me to kiss you before I give you a chance to say hi.”

“I’m okay with it. I like the way you say hello,” I say, biting down on my lower lip.

“Well, did I tell you how sexy you look? I know I screwed that up.”

“Don’t sweat it. I forgot to mention it, too.”

He grips my hips, pulling me closer. “Your eyes said it all.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. “But I’m okay with that. If I can’t see that sparkle someday, I’ll worry.”

This time, when our mouths meet, he wastes no time tangling his tongue with mine. He moves with expert motion, every bit of it felt in places besides my mouth. We stand hip to hip, as close as two people can be with their clothes still on. I feel everything, especially the way he hardens against my stomach. It’s not the first time I’ve felt it, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me crave more of him.

He slows his motions, ending with a soft peck on my lips. “Dinner is ready.”

“We could just skip it.”

“I didn’t slave away for nothing.” He winks, grabbing my hand to lead me to the kitchen. There’s nothing fancy about our dinners together; they’re usually spent sitting Indian-style on the couch. “I ordered a veggie this time since you mentioned the pepperoni was greasy.”

“What if I don’t like vegetables?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Seriously, baby? If that’s how it’s going to be, we’re moving to cereal.”

“If you do, I prefer whole grain.”

He rolls his eyes, opening the door of his tiny refrigerator. “What do you want to drink?”

“Water.”

“If you grab the plates, I’ll bring over the drinks.”

In a short time, we’ve settled into this easy, almost domesticated, rhythm. There’s not much I’ve found that irritates him, which makes it easier for him to accept my quirks … and I have a lot of them.

“What are we watching tonight?” he asks, setting two bottles of water on the coffee table.

“Let’s skip the show about unsanitary kitchens this time.”

“The slimy chicken is part of the reason I ordered veggie pizza.”

In the end, he settles on
The Fugitive.
By the time it’s over, our pizza is gone, our drinks are empty, and we’re lying side by side on the couch with our legs tangled. I turn in his arms, seeing an overwhelming intensity in his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Remember when you asked me what I was afraid of?”

I nod against his chest, pressing my lips to his soft shirt.

His hands grip the side of my face, bringing my eyes to his. “You. I was afraid of losing you again.”

“I don’t think I ever left you.”

“You did,” he whispers, his voice edged with pain. “When you started seeing him, it felt like I’d lost you, because all I’d ever wanted was you.”