Page 82 of Never Forget
I'd always liked Sam. Since we were kids. But he was Jack's best friend, and I'd never let myself hope for anything more than that.
But the way he'd been showing up these past few weeks for me, for Rosie, without being asked, without expecting anything back?—
The coffee maker gurgled. I stared at it without seeing.
I'd only broken up with Mark a few weeks ago. Sam had only ended things with Amber a little before that. Were we even thinking clearly? Or was this just grief reaching for the nearest warm body? Two people who'd lost the same man, looking for comfort in each other because it was easier than being alone?
What if it wasn't real?
"Hey."
Sam was standing in the doorway, wearing his jeans from last night and nothing else. His hair was a mess.
He crossed the kitchen and kissed me. Simple, easy, like it was something he'd done a hundred times before.
"Sleep okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." My voice sounded strange in my own ears. "You?"
"Best I've slept in weeks." He reached past me for a mug and poured the coffee. Completely relaxed. Like this was any other morning.
"About last night?—"
"Stop." He put the mug down and looked at me. "I know what you're about to say."
He stepped closer, close enough that I had to look up. He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. "It wasn’t a mistake."
"Sam—"
"I'm sure." His eyes didn't waver.
"We just—" I started. "You and Amber, and Mark, and everything with Jack?—"
"I know." He didn't look away. "I know the timing's a mess. I know we're both still figuring things out. But I'm not confused about this. About you."
I searched his face for doubt. For hesitation. For any sign that he was saying what he thought I needed to hear. There was nothing but steady certainty.
He kissed me then. Soft and unhurried, like this was just the first of a thousand mornings.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
"I've liked you for a long time, Jamie. This isn't new for me."
The words hit somewhere distant, like I was hearing them through water. I waited for them to make sense.
Sam. Liked me. For a long time.
All those years I'd watched him date other girls. Then coming home and seeing him with Amber. I told myself I was being stupid for wanting something that was never going to happen.
And he'd been?—
"What?" It came out barely above a whisper.
He smiled. Leaned in and kissed me again.
"I said," he murmured against my mouth, his thumb brushing my cheek, "I've liked you for a long time."
There were tears in my eyes. I laughed, the sound catching in my throat. "Be serious."
