A knock on the front door causes me to jump. I walk toward the door, and my breath hitches as I open it and see a familiar pair of crystal-blue eyes staring back at me. Samuel is standing in front of me, holding a cup of GiGi’s coffee, wearing dark shadows under his eyes that tell me he hasn't slept much. My eyes sweep across his face, wide with shock from seeing him here.
I take a moment to catalog his face—the lines by his eyes and how deep his frown is. He runs a hand through his shortblack hair, messing up his styled waves, and lets out a deep breath. Once I feel brave enough to look into his piercing eyes, dread squeezes against my heart.
“Hey,” he starts, coughing away his nervousness. “I, uh…wanted to see how you’re doing. I brought you a coffee.”
A part of me wants to make up an excuse to leave the house in a hurry. Instead, I choose to stay, giving him a nod, and move out of his way. As he passes me, I try my best not to inhale the intoxicating scent of him. He is wearing my favorite cologne, and it makes me feel even more on edge.
Why is he here? He broke up withme.
I shut the front door and take five seconds to count as I breathe. It does nothing to help my nerves, but I feel stronger. I turn and catch him watching, his stare burning into me as I walk past him and lean against my kitchen island.
“Why are you here, Sam?” I ask, my heart beating so hard I am sure he can hear it.
“I told you. I just wanted to check on you. It’s weird, you know, not having breakfast together.” He acts like the breakup has been harder on him than it has been on me. He was the one who chose to end us. I guess, in a way, I did too, when I decided I didn’t want to move in with him. “I miss you.”
Samuel closes the distance between us and reaches for my face, pushing a piece of loose hair behind my ear, his other hand gripping my hip. I have no time to react when he leans his face into mine and plants his warm lips onto my own. No matter how hard I try to fight it, Ryland’s face pops into my mind, as he has been doing lately. Why he has chosen now to resurface in my mind after all these years is beyond me.
Maybe it’s because of my frequent beach trips that trigger memories of him. Maybe it’s because I finally allowed myself to feed my curiosity and looked him up on social media. Maybe it was when I discovered an old Polaroid photo of him or the rainbow necklace that was in a box of items my Mamaw sent mefor Christmas. Either way, the memory of him found its way back to me.
Mamaw’s gifts for me this past Christmas were pieces of home: a bottle of local honey, a homemade candle, a small painting made by her, and a photo album she mentioned that she pulled out of my old room and thought I would love to have. It all stirred something inside of my heart, especially with the way she expressed how much she was missing me. She’s always been supportive of my move and life in Rockdale—up until the last several months anyway.
I pull away from his kiss and allow my shoulders to sag in defeat. “Sam,” I whisper, placing a hand onto his chest and pushing him gently away. I forget all about my uneaten breakfast and start pacing back and forth in between the small space of my living room and kitchen. He leans against the kitchen island, where I once was, as if he needs the extra support after my rejection.
“You miss me?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he replies, and the frown finally lifts into a small smile.
“But you broke up with me.”
This is so awkward. Why is this so awkward?
He grabs the coffee he bought for me and brings it to me. As our fingers brush against one another, he takes advantage and wraps his whole hand around mine. It’s comforting, and I appreciate it. But what I also notice is no spark when our skin touches. The spark has been gone for me for a while now. I hate myself for it.
He leans down and places a small peck on my cheek. I lean into him, begging myself to try to feel more drawn to him than I do at this moment. Samuel has been nothing but good to me. He deserves so much better than what I was able to give him when weweredating.
“Let’s talk?” He says it like a question and motions to the couch.
I nod and cling to my coffee, inhaling the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee beans, before taking a brave step toward the couch. I take a seat and he sits down next to me. I take a sip of my coffee, enjoying its warmth, before I dare to look at him.
He’s extremely handsome in a well-kept kind of way. He takes pride in his appearance, especially for his job, and that used to be something I never really cared about in a man. It might be part of the reason I was so drawn to him in the first place. Because he is so different from Ryland.
“So,” he starts and places a hand on my knee. I tense unintentionally and he removes his hand. Instead, he clasps them together and leans forward, leaning his elbows onto his knees. “I know I broke things off, but maybe I was trying to rush things with us, and that scared you.”
I blink, taking another sip of my coffee to keep myself busy, before nodding in response. I’m glad he’s starting the conversation, because I’m not sure that I would.
“I figured, after three years, it was time for the next step in our relationship. I thought you were ready and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he adds cautiously.
I nod a second time, unsure of the words I need to say or what he’s wanting to hear. My eyes fall toward the ground, my nervousness buzzing in the air around us.
“It bothered me that you didn’t want to take that next step. It made me question our whole relationship, and out of anger, I ended things, thinking that it was what was best for us.”
Where is he going with this? What is he wanting to ask? And what am I willing to tell him?
He runs a hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck. “I think I rushed into both things—wanting to move in and then breaking up with you. I don’t want to be without you, Raine. I’m willing to wait for that next step until you’re ready.”
“But what if I’m never ready?” I say, my words coming out quickly.
He runs his hands through his hair again and I notice the slightest tremble. This must be bothering him more than I thought. I knew I couldn’t run forever, and right now, life is hitting me like a freight train, forcing me to face the music I tried so hard to mute. Every emotion I had tucked away returns at once, and I’m not ready to deal with them all. I’m not prepared for this.
