Page 26 of Denying Davis
Her eyes bulged, and her jaw went slack. “What did you say?”
I smiled. “I think you heard me.”
“So, you said that on purpose.” She threw back a large gulp of cocktail and slammed the glass on the table. “My God.”
“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten.”
“How could I?”
I rubbed my hand on the back of my neck. “IsRentstill your favorite musical?”
An awkward pause passed between us, and a darker shade of pink flushed her cheeks. “Yes. It’s the only one I’ve ever been to.”
“God, that was so long ago. We had tickets, but Dad didn’t want to see it when the national tour came to West Palm. So, I went with you.” I smiled at the memory. “And you loved it so much you cried through the second act.”
“I still have the iPod you gave me too.” She choked back a sound I could have easily mistaken for a sob. “It’s in the closet. I can’t—I haven’t listened to it in years.”
That was good, very good. But it was sad too. She still cared, still felt something, but I didn’t know what. Or if we could ever get back what we had.
“I meant what I said earlier.” I took a long sip of my margarita and decided to change the subject. “If you want to help me figure out how to do some good with the Armstrong name, I’d welcome your ideas.”
“It sounds fun. All I’ve been doing for the last few years is taking care of my mom and working two jobs. I only had twenty-four credits left to my degree when Mom got sick. We couldn’t afford my tuition and her medical bills, so someone had to make a choice.”
“How sick is she?”
“Very. She has emphysema, and the doctors don’t think there is much they can do. Just keep her comfortable, they say.”
“When did she start getting sick?”
“It started my senior year, but by college, it had gotten a lot worse.”
“I’m sorry about that.” A heaviness filled my heart once more. I hadn’t realized all of this and making that decision must have been agony for her. Again, I felt a sharp pang of regret that I hadn’t been around for that part of her life.
“If anyone should have finished college, it’s you.”
“Maybe someday,” she said and drank a long gup of her cocktail. “But until then I’m plugging along and trying my best.”
“Do you still want to be in public relations? I remember how you wanted to work in New York at a fashion magazine.”
She sighed. “That seems like such a faraway dream.”
And she was right. It did to me too. Far away and out of reach in her current situation.
The queso arrived, and the tacos followed not long after. We dug in, savoring the explosion of salt, tomatoes, cilantro, and corn tortillas. The expressions of delight on her face told me she was enjoying it, and I was glad I’d made the spur-of-the-moment suggestion. The dinner parties, galas, balls, and cocktail events I’d attended over the last few months didn’t have the same spontaneous freedom and charm that did. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t present at some event for my family connections and my name.
I was just Davis. A man. Out with a woman I wanted to spend more time with.
“Let’s take a walk by the waterfront,” I suggested after I paid the bill. It was just after 11:45, but the downtown district felt lively and the night young. I didn’t want it to end, and I was afraid if it did, I’d never seen her again. Something about the night had been too magical and too perfect.
“I’d love to go there,” she said.
We set off toward Flagler Park, and when we arrived at the waterfront, we turned and walked past the slips. Hundreds of boats and yachts fanned up and down the Intracoastal, and the walkway gave us a wonderful vantage point. If it wasn’t so late, and she wasn’t wearing a uniform, I might have been able to mistake this for a date.
I certainly wanted that. I always had.
No other woman had interested me like Sam. Not the girls at boarding school or the gang of friends I had in the city. Not the women in my classes at MIT or Harvard. Not any of the other women in Palm Beach.
Only her. Samantha Green.
