When she finished the story, Lydia uncurled her son from her lap and tucked him into his bed. She crossed the room to turn out the overhead light, flicked on his tiny night light, and sat on the floor beside his bed.
“Good night, my angel,” she whispered, kissing Andy's soft cheeks and caressing his hair. “I love you. Mommy loves you sooo much.”
“Mama,” he cooed on an exhale, smiling at her. His eyes were already at half-mast.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” she smiled back. “Sweet dreams.”
Andy's blue eyes stayed fastened to her face, his eyelids flickering as he yawned and fought falling asleep as he did every night. Lydia sat in the stillness, stroking her son's shiny hair, as she did every night. This was her enforced quiet time. Every night, as she waited for her son to lose the battle and fall asleep, her mind would wander and she'd lose herself in her thoughts.
Tonight, of course, her thoughts were consumed with the events of the weekend: Melanie's beautiful wedding, seeing her cherished friends after so many years apart… meeting, and quickly falling for, Sam Forrester.
God, had he been a breath of fresh air. No, more like a windstorm. A tropical storm, warm and forceful, leaving her breathless and dumbstruck.
Andy released the deep breath that signaled he'd finally lost the fight and fallen asleep. Lydia dropped one last kiss on his cheek before getting up off the floor and leaving the room. She went to her bedroom, changed into a pair of violet cotton pajamas, and went about the business of preparing for the next morning.
Forty minutes passed before Lydia could finally curl up on her couch. She grabbed the nearby wool blanket her mother had crocheted for her while she was pregnant with Andy. It wasn’t the softest blanket ever made, but it was warm, and Lydia loved the colors her mom had chosen, a blend of three or four different shades of purple, varying from pale lavender to deep violet. She wrapped the blanket around her legs and glanced over at the wall clock. It was just past nine; she tried to go to bed at ten each night since she had to be up early for work. She hated when her alarm went off at a quarter to six each weekday morning, but that was the life of a teacher during the school year. She had forgotten just how much she’d hated that part of it until she’d returned to it this September after a four year hiatus.
She glanced at her end table: glass of water, check. House phone, check. Cell phone, check. She did one more quick mental rundown: Andy’s snack and lunch were made, in the fridge, and ready to be put into his backpack, which was already packed and by the door; her overfilled tote bag for work was packed and ready by the door as well. His clothes for the morning were laid out in his room, and she had a pretty good idea of what she’d wear to work. All was set.
Finally, she picked up her house phone and called her older sister.
“About time you called,” Jane said in lieu of a greeting.
“Sorry,” Lydia apologized with a small laugh. “Andy finally just fell asleep and I had to get everything in gear for the morning.”
“How is my sweet little guy?” Jane asked. “I take it he survived the long weekend with his father?”
“Yes, he did,” Lydia said. “Thank God.”
“Thank God is right. You should’ve left him with me.”
“You do enough for me as it is,” Lydia said. “It was time for Matt to step up and do something. After all, Andy is his son. And hey, Andy actually had a good time. It seems the weekend went well for them. That's a good thing, Janie.”
“Hhhmph,” Jane snorted derisively.
“Listen, I’m exhausted,” Lydia said. “I just wanted to check in, but can we talk more tomorrow?”
“Sure. Hey, why don’t you and Andy stay for dinner tomorrow night? You can tell me all about your weekend.”
“That sounds great, actually,” Lydia said. “Because… I have stuff to tell you.”
Jane gasped. “Lydia Rose! Did you meet someone?”
“Maybe,” Lydia teased, unable to keep the smile off her face.
“Oh my God!” Jane cried loudly.
“Calm down,” Lydia laughed.
“No!” Jane laughed back. “This is so unlike you. I’m in shock. I love it! Wait a minute—did you, like, hook up with him? Wait, did you have sex?!?”
“Maaaybe,” Lydia said.
“Oh my GOD!” Jane howled. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. Screw that! Tell me now!”
“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, I promise,” Lydia said. On the end table, her cell phone jingled to alert her she had a text message. She reached over for her cell and looked at it.
Hi, it’s Sam. I’m home. How are you?
Her heart swelled in her chest as a smile spread across her face. Sam had texted her when he got home, just as he’d said he would. This was looking promising.
“Janie, I have to go,” Lydia said quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?”
“I could strangle you,” Jane replied with a good-natured growl. “Fine. See you tomorrow. And I want every damn detail.”
Lydia hung up on her sister to turn her attention to her cell phone. Sam hadn’t written in typical text usage, “how r u?” She instantly liked him even more. The English major in her bristled when people wrote messages like that, even though it was widely accepted and standard texting procedure. Sam had written out his words, like an intelligent adult.
Hi, all's well here, she typed. Just got my son to sleep. How was your flight?
She waited.
Fine, thanks, Sam answered. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
She felt herself blush deeply with pleasure. He wasn’t playing games. He was as open and forthright as he’d been all weekend. He was picking up right where they’d left off, kissing each other goodbye in front of the hotel before she’d driven away. She smiled to herself and gnawed on her bottom lip.
That’s very sweet, she responded. And honestly, same here.
Butterflies swirled in her stomach.
Good to hear. I like that, he wrote.
She sent a smiley face icon back.
Can I call you? Sam texted. Now?
She pressed her lips together, the smile on her face bursting through. Sure, she typed. Her heart rate picked up a bit as she waited.
Your phone is ringing…
Her land line phone rang at that moment. She took a deep breath and answered. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Sam sounded like he was smiling too. “How are you?”
“Great.” She trailed her fingers along her leg nervously, back and forth. “A little tired. I had a hell of a weekend.”
Sam laughed, a deep and warm sound. “You did, huh? So did I. Went to a friend's wedding and met this fantastic woman. Couldn’t take my eyes off her all weekend. This afternoon, she ravaged me in my hotel room, and then I had to—unwillingly, mind you—get dressed and fly back to Chicago with my whole family. Talk about your head spinning.”
Lydia giggled.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” Sam said earnestly. “Makes it more real. Like I didn’t dream up the whole thing, like I didn’t just imagine this incredible weekend. You're real. It happened. And I'm really happy about that.”
“That’s funny,” she murmured. “I was just thinking the same exact thing.”
CHAPTER TWO
ON MONDAY MORNING, over a cup of strong black coffee, Sam Forrester sorted through the thick pile of mail on his desk with mild irritation. He’d only been away from the office for four days, and this was what he had to come back to? This, and over three hundred emails in his inbox? Wonderful, he thought. He exhaled in dismay, turned away from his computer monitor, and began to split the letters into two piles: what was vitally important, and what could wait.
Mornings like this, he missed being just another graphic designer, being merely part of the team, an element of the department. Mornings like this, he wished he hadn’t been promoted to Creative Director. While there were many perks, the increased workload over the last six months had been sl
ightly insane. He had needed his long weekend away more than he’d realized. His thoughts quickly went to Lydia, not that they'd strayed far from her since he'd left Connecticut, and a small smile lifted his lips.
His phone buzzed and his assistant’s friendly voice came through the intercom. “Sam,” Robyn said, “Alec’s on line one for you. He said you’re not picking up your direct line.”
Sam grunted, the gauzy daydreams flying out of his mind like a strong wind. He was still angry at his older brother. Alec had seriously slighted Lydia the morning after the wedding, and other than a few choice words, Sam had barely spoken to him on the return trip to Chicago.
“Thanks, Robyn, I’ll take it. Sorry he bothered you.” Sam picked up the phone and said without delay, “I should’ve known you’d be on my back first thing this morning. But talking to you is only slightly better than going through my mail.”
“Well hello to you too,” Alec said smoothly. “And yes, you should’ve. You froze me out all the way home yesterday: from the hotel to the airport, even on the plane. Because Mom and Dad—and my wife and kids, who adore you—were all there, I wasn’t going to confront you, or push you into any further argument. But now, let’s just put on our big boy pants and get this over with, shall we?”
“You know why I’m pissed off,” Sam said. He leaned back to swivel his chair towards the windows and take in his impressive view of midtown Chicago from thirty floors up.
“I know, I know, I insulted your one-night stand,” Alec said in a dismissive tone.
Sam gave a hollow chuckle and shook his head. “Even now, you just have to be a total dick. You deliberately hurt someone who meant something to me, and you couldn't care less. And what's worse, you actually think you're justified. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that I watched my little brother chase a newly divorced woman all weekend,” Alec said sharply. “She hasn't been divorced for even a week! The ink's still wet on the papers, for Christ's sake! I don’t care how hot she was—you should have let it go the morning after you hooked up with her, instead of chasing her down after she stood you up at the brunch. It could’ve just been a done deal right then.”
“Alec.” Sam’s tone was hard and fixed. “Just because Lydia only recently signed her divorce papers doesn't mean she still thought of herself as truly married. She'd been alone for a long time; they were separated for months. It doesn't happen overnight. You’re a lawyer—you of all people should understand the particulars of that.”
Alec snorted derisively.
“And,” Sam continued, “she stood me up at the brunch because you got to her first, when she was vulnerable, and made her feel ashamed and embarrassed with whatever it was you said to her. Not that I know exactly what that was—she refused to tell me what you said, because apparently, she has more class than you do.”
Alec harrumphed at that. “Yes, she's a very classy lady, jumping into bed with a stranger. Spare me, Sammy, okay?”
“Wow.” Sam's voice got low and tight. “You are dangerously close to crossing the line here, Alec. I'm warning you.”
“I'm not afraid of your wrath,” Alec said. “However, I am afraid of her being a head case and stalking you. Has that not occurred to you? Stirring an emotionally vulnerable woman? Who probably still has baggage and is likely a train wreck?”
“Listen to me. Listen carefully,” Sam all but snarled. “What I do, and who I do it with, is none of your goddamn business.” He felt a muscle twitch in his jaw as he continued, “Who the hell did you think you were, degrading her the next morning like she was some cheap whore? You purposely tried to humiliate her. It’s not okay. And I’m pissed at you all over again now, because you refuse to see that. What's coming out of your mouth isn't only offensive, it's just plain wrong. You're damn lucky you're not standing in front of me right now.”
“Your wellbeing is my business,” Alec said. “You’re my brother. I look out for my family, all of my family. And that will never change, like it or not.”
“I know that all too well,” Sam said in a dangerously low tone. “We've been here before.”
“Whoa, wait a second!” Alec cried. “I can't believe you would—that was very, very different. We are not going back there. Holy shit, that's not fair.”
“What you did to Lydia wasn't fair,” Sam pointed out.
“Screw that, Sam. We all know I'm going to hell for what I did with you and Chelsea, but that was a long time ago, and nothing like this thing with Lydia. One has nothing to do with the other. Come on.” Alec's voice had changed. A note of desperation had entered it at the reminder of his past behavior. “Sam… please. I care about you, and I look out for you. I'm your big brother, it's part of the job description. I'm not going to apologize for caring about what happens to you, not ever.”
Sam sighed. Alec was stubborn, strong willed, loyal, overbearing, and overprotective. Sam knew that Alec was right about that, at least: he would never apologize for who he was, he would never change. And most of the time, Sam loved him for those exact qualities.
Sam cleared his throat, collected himself. “How about we come at this from a different angle?” he suggested. “How about this: I get that you feel it’s one of your many duties in life to look out for me. I appreciate that you care about me that much—honestly, I do. But that doesn’t give you the right to humiliate people in my name. When you insulted her, you upset me. So how about something like: ‘hey, Sam, I’m sorry I made her feel like trash, and I’m sorry I upset you.’ I’d settle for that.”
Without skipping a beat, Alec recited, “Hey, Sam, I’m sorry I made her feel like trash, and I’m sorry I upset you.”
Sam laughed caustically. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Language!” Alec cried. “If your nieces and nephew could hear you now… tsk tsk.”
Sam couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Look.” Alec’s tone turned a bit more earnest. “I’m sincerely sorry I pissed you off. Maybe subconsciously I was… trying to scare her off, put her off, so she’d walk away from you, since you obviously weren’t walking away from her.”
Sam snorted softly.
“Okay, okay,” Alec said. “I admit it, maybe it wasn’t so subconscious. When I saw her, I was hung over as hell and feeling nasty, and she wandered into my path like a deer in the headlights. It was too easy—I couldn’t help myself, my baser instincts kicked in. But I’m sorry now, okay? Really. I’m sorry that I upset you. Okay?”
Sam sighed again, knowing that was the best he would get. “Fine. Okay.”
“Okay. Great. So let’s just put this whole thing behind us and move on,” Alec said. “I mean, it’s not like you’re ever going to see her again or anything.”
Sam grinned to himself as he said slowly, “Actually… I am going to see her again. So I guess you better work on restraining your baser instincts a little more.”
Alec was silent for a few seconds. “You’re going to see her again?”
Sam laughed darkly. It took a lot to throw Alec for a loop, and Sam enjoyed the sound of his cocky big brother being astonished by something. “Yeah, I am. I’m going out there in two weeks to see her. We have a date. November seventh.”
“You’re flying to New York to see her?”
“That’s what I said, parrot.”
Alec was quiet. Sam could almost hear the steam coming out of his ears.
“Samuel Edward Forrester,” Alec ground out, his tone somber. “What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Enjoying myself,” Sam said curtly. “Is this the part where I say for the eighty-seventh time that what I do—”
“Is none of my goddamn business, I got that,” Alec huffed. “Sam, I gotta tell ya, this really concerns me. I get that you like a good challenge, you always have—but this can’t end well. You have to know that.”
“Why not?” Sam asked, flicking a pen back and forth between his fingers. His eyes stayed on the skyline before him.
“Because you’re her rebound,” Alec said bluntly. “Don’t you get that? I don’t care how nice she seems, I don’t care if she’s great in bed. When you’ve pumped up her most definitely deflated ego sufficiently, she’ll be done with you and ready to move on. I mean, if you’re just looking to get laid, fine, go for it. But if you’re looking for more than that, which it actually sounds like you are…” Alec grunted in frustration. “Whatever. You know what? I’m out. I’m done. You do what you gotta do. But just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Alright?”
“Alright,” Sam said. “Opinion duly noted. Now we drop it, Counselor. Agreed?”
Alec expelled a heavy sigh. “I’ve said my piece so yeah, agreed. I’ve got my own crap to worry about, and you’re a big boy. End of discussion… for now, anyway.”
Sam gave a short, dry laugh. “I’ll take it.”
***
Lydia used her key to let herself into her sister’s house, calling out “Hellooo?” as she entered the foyer. The Aronson house was, as usual, vibrant with the sounds of young children, random footsteps, and television.
Andy spent every weekday afternoon there, from when Jane picked him up from preschool at noon to when Lydia came to get him around three-thirty. Jane did this gladly, despite the fact that she had three children of her own. Cooper, at nine and a half, was a quiet, sweet, and sensitive bookworm who reminded Lydia a lot of herself; Sophie, at seven, was a carbon copy of Jane, headstrong and charismatic; and Ethan, who at four and a half was only a year older than Andy, was a highly active, fun seeking boy who loved to run and play. He never had Andy far behind him. Andy couldn’t speak as well as other kids his age, but he was faster than the wind, and could even outrun Sophie. He made sure he kept up with his cousins.
“We’re in the playroom!” Jane called up.
Lydia went through the large, spacious living room to the open basement door, located in the long hallway adjacent to the kitchen. Jane and Tyler had invested a lot of money and time redoing their vast basement into an appealing, comfortable space: it was mostly a playroom for the kids, with bins of toys and shelves full of books and DVDs. Jane’s treadmill and exercise bike had their revered space in the corner, angled towards the tremendous 60” flat screen TV. Jane was sitting on one of the three leather couches formed in a half circle in front of it, with Ethan and Andy on either side of her. They snuggled in close to her as they watched the movie Cars.
Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) Page 2
