Page 80 of Ten Day Affair
She doesn't meet my eyes as I approach, and instead, she gives a short nod when I reach the table. No smile, no hello.
I sink into the plastic chair across from her. The silence stretches between us, uncomfortable and heavy.
"Something tells me this isn't a friendly meeting." I finally break it as I run a hand through my hair.
"We're friendly. At least we're both fully clothed this time." A hint of humor flashes in her hazel eyes. Or, is it sarcasm?
An unexpected laugh escapes me. "Okay. So, what's up?"
The tension doesn't disappear, but it shifts and becomes something more manageable.
Sam takes a sip of her coffee, then sets it down with purpose. "I talked to my father."
My stomach tightens. "About us?"
"About this shit going on with the hospital. He told me there's a vote scheduled for Friday. I can't help but wonder why you didn't mention that the other night, or even yesterday morning when I woke up in your bed." She leans forward, her gaze direct and unwavering.
I nod, choosing my words carefully. "You didn't ask."
"Not directly, but I did ask you what I can do to make sure my voice is heard."
"I told you things were moving forward. I'm not sure what else I could have said, Sam. Nothing you or I do at this point will change what is coming. I said as much."
Sam's fingers drum against her coffee cup. A nervous habit I've never noticed before. "Why does it seem like you're hiding something?"
"I'm not sure. I guess you're saying that because I didn't tell you the meeting date, I was hiding that. I just didn't want to go there. I wanted to be with you without all of that. Us talking about it wouldn't solve anything except to upset you."
"Convenient." The challenge in her voice is unmistakable.
A nurse passes our table, stealing a curious glance at us. I wait until she's gone before leaning closer.
"I don't know what you want from me, Sam. This thing between us, it was never about the board.”
I hear it too late, the deflection in my voice, like I’m trying to make this her fault.
“I just wanted to keep it separate from us, from you,” I say, trying to smooth it over.
I knew the moment we slept together that this would get messy. I never imagined I would care so much about it, though. That's the problem.
Sam studies me, her expression unreadable.
"I need to know what you're voting for on Friday."
I sit back, my pulse thudding slowly and hard in my ears.
There’s no point dodging it now. Not after the way she’s looking at me, like the answer might be the last thread holding us together. Or the final cut.
She will inevitably find out anyway. She might as well hear it from me now.
“I’m voting in favor of the restructuring.”
Her mouth parts slightly, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. I feel the disappointment roll off her in waves. I press my palms against the table, anchoring myself there.
“It started as a business decision. Profit. Return. The usual bullshit.” I meet her eyes, willing her to see the part of me I’m not proud of.
“But it stopped being about that the moment I walked through those doors and saw what this place means to you.”
She still doesn't know the extent of my involvement. She doesn't have to know that. My words are true. I did want to change directions after I learned about her and herfamily and how much this hospital means. But it was too late by then.
