Page 40 of A Very Oceanport Christmas
Sure, I'd thrown myself into a relationship with him, but that was because I loved him. Because I'd loved him forever. Because I wasn't going to let the asshole who'd knocked him up come between us. I wanted the baby in his belly to be mine and I was going to treat him that way. And if that meant that I couldn't go to college, that was fine with me.
But you still should have talked about it with Sam,a sharp voice in my mind reminded me. I'd assumed that it was a decision I made about my own life, so it didn't require Sam's input. Had I been wrong about that?
You promised Sam that you would confide in each other,the voice in my mind answered.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. It was a good thing I was on kitchen duty again and the customers couldn't see me as I argued with myself.
I'd kept the college letter from Sam so he wouldn't assume that my decision not to go had anything to do with him. But making a big secret out of it had achieved the complete opposite effect. Now Sam felt like he was holding me back, and of course he hated that.
Truth was, I would doanythingfor Sam.
But he wanted me to take care of myself too. He didn't want self-sacrifice. He wanted equal partnership. I wanted to be strong for him, and he'd let me, but he wanted to be allowed to be strong for me too. The traditional omega role where he stayed home to raise our child while I provided for the family would never have been enough for him. That wasn't the kind of person he was, never had been.
He could take care of himselfandthe baby if he needed to. He didn't need me to put my dreams on hold for him. The mere idea that this was what I was doing must have been like a punch to the gut for him.
I know you're not in a good place right now,he'd said. It was true too. Or ithadbeen, until he'd come back to town. I was doing much better now. At least, I had been before our fight last night.
Because Sam had distracted me from my struggles?
No, because he'd given my struggles meaning. Was that a bad thing? Didn't everyone need something that motivated them to work hard? Was there something reprehensible about the fact that I wanted to make the omega I loved happy?
Sighing, I put the waffle I'd been preparing on a plate and topped it with whipped cream. Cinnamon whipped cream. One of the many little changes Sam had made around here. With his explosive energy and a level of Christmas cheer that rivaled my mom’s, he'd pulled both me and my Dadandthe ice cream parlor out of our slump. It was no small feat.
He said I didn't let him help me. Couldn't he see that he already had? The ice cream parlor was busier than it had ever been during the winter months and it was all due to Sam pitching in. And personally, I'd spent weeks and months walking around in a fog until I'd felt the touch of Sam's lips on mine. After my mom's death, he was the first thing that had truly made me feel alive again. Even Dad was better off with an additional person in the house. So yeah, maybe we were using him to get over our grief, but what was wrong with that?
Distractedly, I set the plate out for the waiter to pick up and tried to focus on the next order.
The sound of Christmas music drifted over from the speakers in the restaurant, almost as if to mock me in my distress. With Christmas only two days away, it sure as hell didn't feel like I was going to have a very merry holiday this year.
Just keep working, I told myself. There was nothing else I could do anyway.
Helping my dad out with the ice cream parlor had always worked to take my mind off my troubles before. It wasn't the most mentally taxing work, but it still required enough focus that I didn't have time to worry about too many other things. Ordinarily, that was the case, anyway.
That day... I messed up. More than once, I prepared the wrong order and had to make waffles over again from scratch.
"What's up with you?" My dad asked that night over dinner. "Something happen between you and Sam?"
I cringed, but of course he'd picked up on my misery. If my failures at work hadn't tipped him off, the sour expression my face would have been enough. I couldn't help it, though, couldn't force a smile on my lips. How could I, when everything I wanted to do was to run over to the bookstore and beg Sam for forgiveness, for another chance, even when I knew that doing so right now wouldn't change anything?
"We fought," I admitted, even though it hadn't been a real fight. It had still ended up with Sam leaving. "Sam's probably not going to be back for a while."
"I see," Dad said, curling some pasta on his fork. "Anything you wanna talk about?"
I shrugged. "He found the stupid college letter," I said as if that explained everything.
Dad arched his eyebrows as if it did. "I take it he's not happy about your decision not to go."
I grimaced. After all these years, Dad knew Sam almost as well as I did. "It's stupid," I said. "He thinks it's because of him."
"Is it?" Dad asked.
I opened my mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. "There's a lot of reasons," I said instead.
Dad nodded thoughtfully, but also in a way that let me know he saw right through me. Of course. If he knew Sam well, he knew me even better. "Let me ask this in a different way," he said after a moment. "Would you go if it wasn't for me and Sam?"
"That's not fair." That scenario wasn't realistic and I couldn't just ignore reality.
"Maybe not," Dad allowed, "but think about it anyway."
