by Olivia Jake
Moments Lost and Found
By
Olivia Jake
This is the sequel to In The Moment.
To read this series from the beginning, you can find In The Moment at Amazon.com.
For more information about Olivia Jake, and a preview of her other books, please visit OliviaJakeAuthor.com
Copyright ©2013 Olivia Jake
All Rights Reserved
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER 1
For someone who had always been in control of her own destiny, someone who never left anything to chance, Sam could have never predicted or planned for where she suddenly found herself. Nor could she be sure whether this was just a phase, a brief moment where Sam would enjoy the experience, but then, once back home, revert to her old ways, leaving behind this growth and change, dismissing it as temporary. And, given that her career was all about communicating a given message, she was surprised that she couldn’t find the right description for just exactly what she was experiencing. On an almost daily basis she had to fight her instincts, and the fighting, in and of itself, scared her. But, like most everything else that Sam experienced with Laurent, their time together in Paris ran the gamut of emotions. As she struggled to find answers, she realized that more than any one emotion or description, if she had to pick a word, it would be: transformative.
So much had happened in the last week, not to mention the last few months, that exposed Sam to new experiences and emotions, she realized that she had done more living in that brief time than in much of her life. Not that she was sheltered. No, she had travelled, albeit mostly for business, typically to photoshoots around the world. She had worked with various bigwigs in Hollywood, which always sounded far more glamorous than it ever actually was, at least to those outside the industry. She owned her own business, and a successful one at that. But she had a routine that rarely varied over the years. From an early age, she knew, by and large, where her life was going, and she had kept on that path, and by all accounts, it was a nice path.
But when Laurent came into her life, the once straight road evolved into twists and turns, and even had a few hairpin curves. Sam wanted to both speed up and slow down, but she wasn’t always the one driving.
And somehow, one of those roads led to Paris. Granted, it was under less than ideal circumstances that brought her there, but no matter the reason, there she was, with the man she loved, and equally important, the man who loved her. Perhaps it was partially due to what brought her there, Laurent’s mother suffering a massive heart attack, that made her see things more clearly. Sam was embarrassed that it took something so horrific for her to realize how quickly life could change. Not only that. Mme. Román’s heart attack showed Sam that there were some things in life for which no one could plan. Not even Sam.
So, for the first time in her adult life she took a real, honest-to-goodness vacation. And a long one at that. Sam had never before been out of the office for more than a few days at most, and even then she usually checked her email and called in just to make sure everything was running smoothly. Truth be told, there were a few days in Paris where she did check in, looked at layouts, spots and the like. While starting to appreciate that there was more to life than work, she still had a company to run, and was still very much a vital part of the day-to-day. But these check-ins were at most once or twice a week, and then Sam was able to close her laptop and leave work behind while she took in all that Paris, Laurent and his family had to offer.
The first week, while Mme. Román was still in the hospital, their days consisted of spending the mornings and early afternoons with her, and then exploring Paris for whatever free time they weren't there or with his brother and sister's families. Sam didn't need to be told that being with his mom was the priority. That was, after all, why they were there in the first place.
After their first time in France a few months earlier, Sam had already seen what a loving son Laurent was. She had witnessed that soft side of him. But seeing him with his nieces and nephews was something else. She knew he couldn't father any children, and she had never asked why, she was just relieved that they didn't need to worry about birth control. But seeing him with them, he was such a natural, she wondered if he regretted that he couldn’t have any of his own. He clearly loved them and the feeling was mutual. He could be silly and sweet with Juliette and Anabelle, Phillipe's girls, and a fun overgrown boy to Charlotte's boys Nicholas and Sabastian. She had never experienced a big family growing up, and had really only witnessed enough poorly behaved children in the past that the idea of 'family' never held special meaning for her like it did for most women, or really, most people. But both Charlotte and Phillipe and their respective spouses, Michel and Beatrice, had done an amazing job so far raising their children. These kids were great. After all the stories about helicopter parents and precocious, snotty kids who didn't do anything but text and play video games, Sam genuinely enjoyed her time with the extended Román family.
Most of that time spent together revolved around dinners, which were big and loud and fun. Everyone pitched in, in some way or another, whether it was helping cook or clean or set the table or wrangle the kids and help the younger ones, Anabelle and Sabastian, cut their food. The meals were long, relaxed endeavors, that were as much about eating as they were about everyone getting together. It was a world that Sam had never experienced. Her dinners most nights at home were takeout at the office or a spoonful of peanut butter and a stick of string cheese before she took care of her dogs and collapsed into bed.
Sam knew part of the appeal could be chalked up to experiencing a different culture. Food and meals were part of French life in a way that many Americans never understood or emulated. Sam had been given a taste of that culture back when she waited tables for a French restaurant during college. But it was more than just the experience of the big, long, all-consuming meals. It was how the Románs embraced Sam, making her feel right at home, immediately welcoming her as though she were already part of the family. Even little Anabelle started calling her Tante Sam. She got a kick out of both the fact that she was calling her "Aunt" as well as this little one was the only Román who called her Sam... mostly because Samantha was too much of a mouthful and came out like 'manta'.
One of their last nights in Paris, after dinner, Anabelle asked if Sam would play with her and her dolls. Of course, Sam couldn't say no, but she really had no experience playing with dolls. She never had them when she was little, and was never around little girls, so she was nervous she might do or say the wrong thing. Laurent saw something flash across her face and chuckled as he came over, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "What is it, Cheri?"
"I've never played with dolls." she whispered back. "I don't know what to do…" Laurent tried to stifle his laugh as best he could and then put both his hands on her cheeks as he said, "Samantha, you run a multi-million dollar company and have to present to big important, and some people even say, difficult CEOs" he winked
, "and you're afraid of a four-year-old and her dolls?"
"Well, when you put it like that..." she looked sheepishly at him.
"Come on Tante Sam! Stop talking with Oncle Laurent! Terese and Ameile need their hair done! And then you and I need ours done too!" Anabelle admonished Sam as only a four year old with a lisp could.
"Oh, ok Anabelle! I wouldn't want to keep Terese and Ameile waiting! Come on, let's go get their hair done!" Sam replied with mock urgency and raised her eyebrows defiantly at Laurent as if to say, "See, I can do this!"
Sam, apparently was wrong. Well, that wasn't completely accurate. She could play with Anabelle, but wasn't sure she was going to be able to live down her new hair style. Anabelle insisted that she, Sam and the two dolls had to all have matching hairstyles, which turned out to be braided pig tails. Anabelle started the ‘braiding’ on Sam’s hair, but Sam quickly suggested that Sam braid Anabelle and Sam’s hair while Anabelle do the dolls, “They don’t know me as well as you do, Anabelle. And they might be shy with me touching their hair. Plus, this way it’s even, you to two and I do two!”
“Ok, Tante Sam!” The little girl smiled and agreed happily. After Sam finished Anabelle’s hair, she quickly did hers and then helped finish the dolls’. When they came back out to join the rest of the family, Anabelle proudly exclaimed, “Look, maman, look Oncle Laurent, we’re all twins! Maman, can I sleep with my hair like this, please????”
Everyone complimented Anabelle on how pretty she and her dolls, and of course Sam looked. Sam shot Laurent a look and he was grinning from ear to ear. When she finally sat down next to him, he whispered low enough so that only she could hear, “You know, Samantha, we’re going to have to do your hair like that when we’re alone and get you in a short little plaid skirt and knee high socks so I can live out a Catholic school girl fantasy.” Sam flushed and playfully hit Laurent.
“Tante Sam, why did you hit Oncle Laurent? Was he being a bad boy?”
“Yes, Anabelle, your uncle sometimes is a very, very bad boy!” Sam couldn’t help but say, which earned a few looks from the adults. Laurent quickly got up and scooped Anabelle into his arms, turning her upside down and throwing her over his shoulder as she squealed with delight.
“Now young lady, I may be a bad boy, but you don’t want to be a bad girl, and your mother told me it’s way past your bedtime, so off we go! After all, we don’t want Tante Samantha to hit you.”
She was still giggling when she said, “Oh, Oncle Laurent, Tante Sam wouldn’t hit me. She loves me!” Laurent’s smile said it all as he looked back at Sam. Pride. Warmth. Love. Sam’s heart was beating hard upon hearing this little girl, still so innocent and sweet. Sam bit her lip as she smiled. It was all so much, so soon, and she was getting swept away by all of them.
When they got back to their hotel that night, they were both so tired that they didn’t notice the photographers waiting for them as they got our of their car. The flashes went off so quickly, and they yelled questions that Sam couldn’t quite make out, she was so surprised by it all. Instinctively, she ducked her head and put her hand up as Laurent pulled her in closer to her. Luckily, there were only a few guys and they got into the hotel lobby quickly where management wouldn’t let the paparazzi.
Laurent’s grip on Sam tightened and didn’t let up until they got into the elevator. Once they did he looked so forlorn and said, “I am so sorry, Samantha.” Usually he would pull her into a hug and kiss her head, or make some other comforting gesture. But once he let her go to push the button for their floor, he went cold. His hands balled up into fists and his mind was clearly somewhere else.
Even though Sam’s heart was pounding and her mind running a mile a minute, the last thing he needed was to worry about her. He had a sick mother, and after all, the photographers were interested in him, not her. “Laurent, we knew they would eventually catch up with us. It’s just a few photos.”
“Samantha, they’re ruthless and mean. We’ll see what’s online and in the papers tomorrow, but we may need to change hotels. I don’t want to worry about our every move while we’re here.” He said coldly. The doors opened and he grabbed her hand, but there was no tenderness, it felt more like she was his charge and it was out of duty that he led her to their room. Once inside he walked to the sitting room as he dialed his cell and started speaking quickly in a hushed and clearly upset tone. Sam just stood there, frozen. She had seen many, many different sides to this man, but this was not one of them. Through everything, he had never just turned his back to her like this, literally and figuratively.
Sam knew there was nothing to do. Sleep was probably a long way off, considering how jacked up her adrenaline was, so she thought a bath might help relax her. When she walked into the bathroom she looked in the mirror and saw her pigtails again. She had completely forgotten that she looked like an over-grown fifth grader. Great, the photos of her in the French papers would have her looking like this. She undid the braids and got undressed as the tub filled. When she finally eased herself into the warm sudsy water, her mind had far too much time on its own and her relaxing bath was turning into a mindfucker’s playground. Only a couple hours before, she was being lulled into Laurent’s perfect familial bliss, and now she was alone in a tub trying to figure out what had changed. Typically, Laurent would have come in and shared her bath, but with no sign of that happening, Sam pulled the drain hoping the gurgling sound of the water emptying would be loud enough to overshadow all the questions in her mind. It wasn’t.
Sam put on a Tshirt and crawled into bed. She realized this was the first time they didn’t fall into bed together in some romantic embrace. As much as she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t realistic they would be so passionate every single night, up until this moment, that’s exactly what they had been. She lay there a while, willing sleep to come. Finally, she turned on the TV and mindlessly watched something. Eventually she drifted off to sleep. Alone.
Laurent couldn’t even look at Samantha, much less sleep with her that night. It was one thing for those vultures to come after him, but it was something else entirely to have her pulled into their morass. There were very few times in Laurent’s life where he felt guilty for anything, so it was a foreign, uncomfortable feeling. But most of all, beyond the guilt, it simply angered him. He could deal with the paparazzi in his own way, but dealing with them and protecting Samantha from them were obviously at odds. He knew logically that he shouldn’t take his anger at them out on her, but in the heat of the moment, logic was nowhere to be found, just raw emotions and open wounds ripe for the onslaught of fresh salt.
He also knew, albeit somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, that all of his emotions this entire trip were already on high. Truthfully, long before he came to Paris, his emotions were getting the better of him in a way that they never had before. What he felt for Samantha was fresh and new, and then, just as they were beginning to explore their relationship, she broke away, introducing him to a whole new set of feelings. The anger he had at her coupled with his love for her seemed to be at war with each other. The patience he forced himself to have, waiting for her, and then the fear of losing his mother and the overwhelming sense of relief when Samantha walked into the hospital room coupled with the news that his mother’s prognosis was good, all of these emotions would have been so much for anyone to process. But for someone like Laurent who had kept everything in check for so long, to have all of these come to the fore at once was overwhelming. Not that Laurent would ever admit to being overwhelmed. It’s possible even he didn’t know that’s what he was feeling. Which is why it was just easiest to retreat.
When Sam awoke the next morning, it was much like how she had fallen asleep. There was no sign of Laurent in the room. As she got up and made her way out of the bedroom she heard him already on the phone. His tone was again angry and hushed. When he heard her come into the room he looked up, caught her eyes and then quickly looked down and turned his back. He mumbled a few more things into the phone an
d then hung up as he turned back to her.
He just stared and coldly said, “Good morning, Samantha.” Like they were strangers. Sam was shell-shocked. Usually, everything looked better in the morning. But this, this was a hundred times worse. Sam kicked into survival mode. Fuck this, she thought. Two can play at this game. He wants cold, welcome to the Antarctic. “Morning.” She said barely looking at him. She went to the table where there was coffee and poured herself a cup then turned around to head back into the bedroom. There was no way she was going to sit here and take whatever the hell was going on. She was going to go for a run. A long run.
When she came back out a few minutes later dressed clearly in running clothes, he just stared at her, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Excuse me?” If he wanted to add fuel to her fire, he was doing a damn good job. She had no idea why he was suddenly so angry with her but it was really starting to piss her off.
“You’re not going out alone.” He said as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“Why, because you’re so clearly enjoying my company?” she couldn’t even look at him. She picked up the room key as she made her way to the door.
“Samantha.” Was all he got out as he went to block the door. Who the fuck did he think he was? Sam had no idea what was going on, but she knew enough to know that whatever was in his mind, she wasn’t staying around to find out. After last night, he clearly didn’t want to discuss things, so why now was he so insistent on her staying put? Whatever his reason, she wasn’t about to be ordered around.
Sam’s heart was pounding and her blood was boiling. She was not going to be treated like some errant child, even though all she could say, looking him square in the eye was, “Laurent.” As she turned and reached for the door, he grabbed her arm spinning her back around to face him.
“Samantha.” Again was all he said.
