Page 38 of Spread Your Wings
“I already miss you.” Sammy’s chest hurt, and he barely had the breath to say, “Hurry back to me?”
“I will do my best.” Mustafa pressed his lips against Sammy’s temple.
Neither of them spoke the words. Sammy could see it in Mustafa’s eyes as he followed Vasily’s cousin to the parking lot. So much love in his eyes. He would be back. Sammy had to believe it. He swiveled and saw his mother coming toward him from the opposite doorway.
“Welcome home,” she said, holding out her arms for a hug.
Sammy embraced her, immediately missing the heft of Mustafa’s hugs. Despite the heat near the doors, he felt cold in her intense blue gaze. She’d swept her graying blond hair into a bun at her nape, making her face appear tight and ageless.
“Who was that young man? Someone you met on the plane?” Her words were innocuous enough. Her sharp tone activated every defense mechanism Sammy had developed to deal with her over the years.
He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “That was Mustafa. My boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” She took it in stride, not missing a beat. “How long have you known this boyfriend?”
“I met him when I landed in Sarajevo.”
“He works for CNN?” She sounded doubtful.
“He worked for the Holiday Inn where we stayed. When the war broke out, his uncle arranged for him to come to the United States. He joined me in London for the concert.”
“Concert,” she huffed. “You know Sunday was Easter? If you had to be in London for a concert, you could have at least called me on Easter.”
“Sorry, Mom.” Easter Sunday. Shit. His promise to call her on Easter had completely slipped his mind. Maybe he’d been reading her signals all wrong. Maybe she wasn’t mad about seeing him with Mustafa. Maybe she was hurt because her son had forgotten about her. “I’ll make it up to you over dinner.”
She took his offered arm, and they walked out into the stifling humidity, suitcase in tow.
“Tell me about this boyfriend,” she said on the way to her car. “He’s very handsome.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sammy’s mother dropped him off at his apartment building after dinner and a long chat over steaks and fries. He’d expected more of a show when he came out, but his mom didn’t seem disappointed, or even surprised.
“Love you. Have a good night,” she said as he climbed out of her Mercedes.
“Love you, too.”
He needed a shower, a shave, and a few hours with his journal, writing out what he wanted to do with his life.
Instead of silence behind his third-floor apartment door, music blared. Techno crap. It sounded like something Gavin would play.
“What the fuck?”
He tried the knob. Locked. He tried his key. It still fit in the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. He didn’t know what he would find if he knocked on the door, so he went back toward the elevator. He could call the police from the landlord’s office.
The main floor office was filled with natural light. The black granite tiles reflected the sunset, nearly blinding Sammy as he entered.
“You’re back,” the landlord said. He had bushy eyebrows and thick black hair. Sammy thought they’d had a decent relationship as landlord and tenant. Today, his landlord’s brows knit together above the black rims of his Buddy Holly glasses. He grabbed a box from the shelf behind him and tossed it at Sammy. “Here’s your mail. You didn’t tell me you were subletting.”
Subletting? No wonder he was angry. “I’m not,” Sammy said. “In fact, my boyfriend moved out around the same time I left.”
The landlord huffed. “Tell him that.”
“What?”
“He’s still here. You thought he moved out?”
Sammy nodded. “He broke up with me. Sent me a letter in Sarajevo. Said he was moving to College Park.”
