Page 76 of Somewhere Along The Line
“What are you doing here, Sam?” I ask as Kyle lingers near James with a huge, beaming smile.
“Did you think I’d miss something like this? When James called me—”
I turn to find a sheepish grin on James’s face, equal parts apologetic and proud. I want to kiss his lips right off of his face.
“I had to be here. Of course, I would be here!” Sami is radiating joy and it’s her own— she’s not mirroring my joy for my sake. She’s really, truly, happy for me.
“And this guy,” she elbows Kyle, who gives a fake yelp in response, “is the most infuriating man I’ve ever met, and you should be aware I put up with him all morning because THAT is how much I love you. That’s how much I love you two together.”
Sami extends our hug to pull James in, leaving Kyle the obvious fourth wheel until he wraps his long arms around Sami and me to complete the circle.
“Damn it, Kyle, get your hands off me! And why the hell do you smell like that?!” Sami’s outburst sends us into a fit as we pull apart. I am dying to hear about their morning together and learn the shenanigans Kyle pulled to get so far under Sami’s skin.
These two might be exactly what the other needs… if we could convince them to tolerate each other first.
I catch my breath and take in the moment, all of us here on the platform, happy. It’s everything I couldn’t have imagined two years ago when my world went black. What a gift this new life is.
My stomach lurches as I tear myself away from my gratitude, knowing this is where we’ll all split—James and Kyle to their office to the right, me to building to the left, with Sami taking the train back home. A vice grips my heart at the impending distance from James, at the wait until we can see each other again after so many weeks of waiting already.
James senses it and pulls me in tight, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and the other around my waist, nudging a loose wave from in front of my ear with his nose.
“Don’t worry, Sweet P… can I call you Sweet P? I’m not going anywhere, and I coordinated with your boss for you to have the day off. Are you ready to go back to the beginning?”
We’re nearing our firstlocation, and I’ve got Piper tucked into my side, one arm around her waist to guide her forward and the other hovering over her eyes. She must know where we’re going based on the direction we walked from the platform—and the fact I couldn’t cover her eyes for six entire blocks—but I like the idea of surprising her anyway.
I open the door and she shuffles through, clawing at my hand and pulling it down from her face to reveal The Velvet Stool all to ourselves. They’re not usually open in the morning, but I pulled a few strings. Two paper cups wait for us at the bar, and I drag her over, her hand in mind.
“Did you seriously rent this place just to recreate the night I saw you here?” she asks incredulously, scooting herself onto a stool, her legs not quite reaching the floor.
“No, I rented this place out so I could drink coffee with you.” I turn my attention to the paper cups in front of us, each bearing the logo of the coffee shop we visited after giving our depositions.
“An Old Fashioned wouldn’t be appropriate for just after 8 a.m., so I combined two of my favorite memories with you—sitting at this bar knowing you existed just back there,” he points to the high-top tables lining the far wall, “and having a celebratory mug with you and realizing my pretend feelings weren’t so pretend after all.”
“Really?” Piper nods skeptically, mostly for show. “I wouldn’t have guessed you had real feelings for me then.”
“Pipes, I was all over you that day at the station,” I reply with a laugh. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you. Do you think the lady checking us in needed to see me kissing up the length of your neck?”
She blushes a soft pink and runs her hand under her ear as if she might recapture the moment with her fingertips if she’s fast enough.
“I didn’t want to say goodbye to you that morning,” I continue. “I didn’t want to lose any time I might convince you to spend with me. So we had coffee, even though you were right… I do prefer black tea.”
Her mouth gapes open for a second before it turns to a chuckle. God, it feels good to be honest with her.
With that, I lift my cup to hers and wait for her to meet it, no glass or ceramic “clink” to signify the toast but she knows what I’m looking for. She brings her drink to mine and then to her mouth to take a long pull, her eyes on me as I do the same.
“To what are we toasting, Mr. Newhouse?” she asks.
“To new beginnings—”
She cuts me off. “To seven years ofgreatsex!”
I sweep her into a rough kiss, my mouth meeting hers with enough command that she knows I’ll guarantee it, hopefully for a lot longer than seven years. My fingers trace along the top of her thigh, inching closer to where her leg meets her hip and where I’d like to duck between. I catch her soft moan in my mouth before pulling back with a chuckle.
“Not yet,” I whisper softly. “We just met, remember?”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to her coffee, giving me a look that tells me she hates (loves) when I tease her.
“You know what else I realized that day in the coffee shop?” I bring the conversation back to our beginning. “That I’d love to have coffee with you every morning for the rest of my life.”
