Page 100 of Ten Day Affair
She turns her head. “I should have let you know when I got held up earlier. Right after I sent that text, a lot came at me at once.”
I'm not sure what she's referencing, so I don't say anything. I still don't know if her text that she wanted to talk was a positive one, or what, so I wait for her cue.
She sits back down while keeping her eyes on me. “I’m not even sure why I texted you and asked if I could come over, to be honest. So much has happened since then. I think I meant to say thank you.”
My chest tightens. "Why would you want to thank me? I know I've let you down."
“For trying.”
I nod slowly. “I did try, Sam, for what it's worth. I was hoping I could buy some time. ”
“I know. And I do appreciate it.”
The wind picks up again. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, her fingers shaking slightly before she curls them around her glass again and props up her legs.
“I don’t want to fight with you. Besides this shitty ending to your time here, it's been good. Ten whole days, but we've packed a lot in.”
“I don't want our goodbye to be negative, either.”
We sit with that. And for the first time all day, I let myself hope this doesn’t have to end badly.
She looks down at her glass, her voice quieter now. “When are you heading back to New York?”
I glance out at the ocean and watch a set roll in. “Originally, it was Saturday.”
I look at her to see her reaction. She gives a small nod but doesn’t say anything.
“I'll probably leave tomorrow, now that the vote’s done. I don’t have anything keeping me.”
Except I do. She’s right here, sitting next to me. And it’s killing me not to say it out loud. But after everything today, I think that door has closed for both of us.
Her lips press together. That same flicker of emotion crosses her face again, but it's too fast to pin down. “Right.”
She doesn’t ask me to stay or tell me not to go. Instead, she leans back in her chair and lifts the glass to her lips.
The silence stretches, but it isn't settled.
“I should head in,” she says finally, pushing to her feet.
I nod, even though I’m not ready to move.
She doesn’t wait for me. Instead, she walks to the door and disappears inside.
I sit there for a few minutes after she’s gone. Listening to the waves and the wind and everything we didn’t say.
TWENTY-THREE
Sam
I took the long route and turned right out of my place. Normally, I go north on my beach run, but this afternoon, I went south to avoid Cole’s house. Not because I thought I’d see him. I just didn’t want to risk it.
The tide’s gone out, leaving wide, hard-packed sand that’s good for clearing my head, even if it's hard on my knees.
My calves burn, and sweat drips down the curve of my spine. The rhythm of a long afternoon run helps. I let the crash of waves and the crunch of my footsteps drown out everything else as music drones on mindlessly.
When I finally hit the familiar dune break, I slow to a walk and drag in a breath. My chest rises and falls as I make my way back toward my stairs. Satisfyingly, my toes curl into the soft sand as I move closer to my house.
I stop at the base and lean forward, hands on my knees. The wind whips across my back as I stretch out my hamstrings. They are tight, and the pull through my legs is a good pain.
