by Lindy Dale
Sam looked down, his eyes clouded. “That night, after we had the fight, my grandma, Gracie, got sick. I had to go to her, to be with her at the end. She was the most important woman in my life. Before you.”
His eyes looked into mine. I thought he was going to cry. I knew I was. Shit. I felt like such a cow. The man had been with his dying Grandmother and I’d been off having revenge sex with Johnny.
“Oh God, Sam. Why didn’t you say something?”
His mouth was in my hair. “I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to deal with the way I felt. Nobody I love has ever died before and we had that fight and everything. Then my phone got stolen at the bloody funeral parlour, of all places and I just lost it. It was like a sign I should just stay away from everyone and everything until I had time to process.”
His hands were hungry, roaming my body, unbuttoning my fly, squeezing the flesh of my bottom through my knickers as he pulled my jeans away.
“Tell me again you don’t want me,” he challenged. “Tell me.” His lips were insistent, devouring me, sinking into me.
I shook my head. Half-heartedly, I tried to push him away. “I don’t want you, Sam, you’re nothing but trouble.”
“I can explain about the money. Just give me a chance.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I missed you. I missed you so. My body ached to have you. I know yours did too. I know you want me.” His mouth burnt me. His hands enflamed the spot where the spark of my heart used to be and set it alight again. Shoving my hands into his pants, I undid the buckle and he stepped out of them. His body, hot and hard, pressed into me, taking my breath away. I didn’t care that I was meant to be angry with him. I needed him too much.
“I do want you,” I gasped. “I want you any way you like.”
His smile devilish, Sam stripped my shirt to my waist and unclasped my bra. Lifting me, weightless, he held me against his hips and I wrapped my legs around them, feeling the bones as they dug into the backs of my thighs. With one hand he caressed the skin inside my legs, the other fondling my breast as he sighed and lowered his mouth to it, sucking.
“How about this for starters?” he growled, walking me towards the door.
The breath left my body. I ran my fingers through his hair and along the nape of his neck, feeling him burying himself in my breasts. “I thought you’d left me,” I panted. “I saw that site and I thought I was just a part of your game. Then I found out who your father was and I was so angry with you for lying I wanted to—”
“Shut up.”
“But you played me, you played us all.”
Kicking the door shut with his foot, he pressed my body against it and steadied himself. Slowly, languidly, he adjusted his position and slid himself inside me. I closed my eyes as the burning heat of him filled me and he began to thrust. I called his name as he moved to increase the sensation. I thought I would die when he spoke, an urgent sexual whisper. “There’s only one game I want to play with you, Mill’ and it goes something like this.”
I bit into his shoulder. It was all the response he needed.
26
Four hours. That was all the time we had left. In four hours I was going to be jetting away. Now that the moment was so close, I wasn’t sure that this was what I wanted. As the clock ticked over, indicating the lost minutes, I began to get the jitters. There were so many things we had to say to each other, so much we had to learn. Having been apart from Sam, for even that short time, and having done what I’d done while he was away, I knew I never wanted to leave his side. Sam was the one for me and I had to make it up to him. Not that I had any intention of confessing. It’d ease my guilt but it would hurt him more.
During the course of the night, we’d talked it through. The fact he’d omitted to tell me he was stinking rich was easy to forgive when he told me the reason why.
“I didn’t want you to know about the money. I’ve had a few bad experiences in the past with girls and money. Believe it or not, I’ve been on the receiving end of women who professed to care, which they did, but only for my bank balance.” He paused. His eyes had darkened with sadness. It must have been hard to dredge up old wounds he’d rather keep buried. “I almost got to the altar, once.” His eyes stared into mine. I’d never seen this side of him before. He was deathly serious.
“What stopped you?”
“A little altercation over a pre-nup. She didn’t like the terms. It clued me in and I dumped her. She wasn’t happy. Spread some nice rumours round the town about me.”
“Wow.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever meet a girl I could truly care for again. And honestly, I couldn’t be bothered. It was easier to root every chick in sight, have some fun, no strings attached.”
“So that’s why you never had a girlfriend.”
“Yep. I also realised that if people think you have no money ulterior motives don’t seem to come into play.”
So, it was easier to let people think he was as poor as a church mouse until he got to know them properly. Sam wanted people to like him for who he was, not how many pubs he owned. Poor Sam. I felt so horrid for being hurt by his small deception when his hurt was far more intense. He’d been cut so deep he didn’t trust anyone anymore. He’d almost given up on love. Then it hit me; I’d been so consumed by his bad habits and boyish pranks that I’d only seen glimpses of the real Sam. The tender, caring man who wanted to be loved. The Sam I had seen was adorable and sweet but I’d never realised all he longed for was to be loved.
“Well, then I met you,” he continued. “And from the moment you handed me my snapper and our fingers touched on that plate, I knew you were different.”
“You felt that too? I wondered if you did.”
“I did.”
My heart did a thump in my chest. “I could never understand why you kept ignoring me. It made me so angry.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. You floored me. I’d never felt anything like it. Every time you walked past me in that tight little uniform I felt like I was fifteen again. And in the middle of a bar I had nowhere to hide my hard on so I kept well away.”
I giggled.
“Anyway, you were a bitch to me. You deserved a bit of ignoring.”
“I was not. I had to stay away from you. I kept on breaking things and Bob was going to fire me. And you were so totally up yourself. Did you think I’d respond to that?”
Sam laughed too. “I guess neither of us had it easy, did we? Lucky we saw the light, eh?” He reached over and placed his lips against mine.
“Hmm. I guess, but I’m still a bit worried you didn’t tell me what was going on.”
“I probably should have called you when I went to see Gracie, but I was pissed off. You told me to fuck off, babe. No one’s ever said that to me. It hurt. And the Facebook thing? If it upset you, well, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have asked Bob and Adele to keep the money thing a secret and I’m sorry for that, too. I’m sorry for it all.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Mind you, it was an expensive exercise,” he admitted. “Buying Paige’s silence wasn’t easy. She’s so damn loyal to you, I had to offer her the bloody moon.”
“You’d better not forget to take her to Gold Class, like you promised,” I laughed, kissing him. “She thinks she let you down by telling me the truth but I told her the truth is always best. You need to show her, now, that it was the right thing to do.”
He nodded.
“Adele nearly let the cat out of the bag on a few occasions, too,” he said.
I really laughed then, confiding I’d actually believed Adele had the hots for him at one stage. The idea that she was only treating him like a Godson had been the furthest thing from my mind.
“So how about we start again? No more lies.” The silence sat between us as I consider this. I could see his face, filled with nervous expectation. He was waiting for my answer. Could I trust him? Did I really want to be with him? “Come on, Mill’. What do
you say?”
I smiled a little. He was still as bloody smug as the day we met but I couldn’t resist it anymore. “Alright. Let’s start over. No more deception.”
Sam crushed me to him then. He pushed me down and kissed me like the world was going to end and we were the only survivors. Then, I lay next to him in the midst of the crumple of clothes that was meant to be my packing. Coat hangers were tangled among them, shoes lay piled on the floor near the bed. On the bedside table, my travel documents stood to attention, leaning against the lamp. His face was filled with genuine happiness and it made me think. Really think.
“I can’t do it. Sam. I can’t leave.”
“But you’re gonna. You’re gonna get on that plane in a couple of hours. And if there’s any complaining, I’ll put you over my shoulder and carry you on personally.”
“But—” I held my breath. I could feel the tension he’d successfully released only minutes before, beginning to build again. I didn’t want to leave him. That was the bottom line.
“Shhh. It’s only for a few weeks. If you decide you like it and you find a place, then we’ll think about the next move. I couldn’t bear to think of you not giving your dream a go because of me. Everything would be okay for a while, but you’d start to resent me, wonder what if.”
I bit my lip.
“You know I’m right.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I don’t like it.”
*****
It would be hard to have described Perth Airport as shrouded in darkness. Even at four o’clock in the morning, white light glared through the terminal and car park. Sam pulled into the five minute set down to help me unload my bags. Then he drove round the circular road and parked at the front of the car park. It was only fifty metres away. I could have walked but he wouldn’t hear of it. He was being all loving. I waited for him to lock the car and join me, and then together we walked across the pedestrian crossing and into the terminal. We held hands. It was as if we’d never been apart. Almost.
At the check in, I gave the woman my ticket details. She scanned them and stuck a tag on my bags. I felt oddly excited. It was the first time in weeks I’d felt that way but now it was here, my dream was taking shape and the butterflies were whizzing in my stomach. The woman looked us over and hoisted my suitcases through the tunnel. “And no one else is travelling?” she enquired. Clearly, she thought it odd I’d be going by myself, leaving this hunk of man behind.
“Nope. Just me,” I smiled, shoving my boarding pass into my backpack.
It was quiet at that time of day and the other people who were also checking in looked as amused as me at having to be at an airport in the middle of the night, two hours before a flight. I stopped at a cafe and got myself a bottle of water and a Mars Bar. I knew I’d have to eat it before I got off the plane or it would turn to mush in my bag but, hey, it seemed the thing to do. Plus, it helped me avoid the goodbye I knew was coming. The tears were there, waiting. It was going to be hard.
At the edge of the gate lounge I watched a family with three small kids getting organised. It reminded me of Paige, Tori and Michael.
“You okay?” Sam asked. His hand squeezed mine as his eyes landed on the family. He knew what I was thinking. I’d said my goodbyes to my charges the previous evening but that didn’t make it any easier. I’d been with Adele and Brian for so long, they were practically my parents.
“Yeah, I’m cool. A bit excited, nervy, you know, but cool.”
Sam turned and took me in his arms. He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “It’s okay. I get it. And I’m only a phone call and a plane fare away.”
Then he stopped. His body was suddenly rigid. His hand was gripping mine too tight.
“Sam?”
I looked up. His face was as frozen as his body and white. Deathly white. I swivelled and looked to see what he’d seen. It was Johnny, walking towards us with a huge bunch of flowers.
Oh fuck.
Sam stepped back from me. He looked at Johnny, who by this time had seen him too, and with nowhere else to run, had no choice but to keep on coming. What the fuck was I going to do? ’d been prepared to live with my indiscretion for the rest of my life. I’d decided never to mention it to Sam. No matter how the guilt ate at me, he didn’t need to know what I’d done when I thought it was over between us. But now I guess he knew. I was hiding things, but Johnny, it seemed was transparent.
“Johnny, hey. What’re you doing here?”
Johnny was a statue, the look on his face revealing he’d been unaware of Sam’s return and had less idea of how to deal with it than I did. Revenge sex had been the perfect opportunity for him to get closer to me than he would ever have gotten otherwise. He’d forgotten to factor in that Sam might come back. And he was way bigger.
“Um, yeah,” he stammered, the witty words he lived by deserting him. “Millie said she didn’t want a send off but I thought it might be nice.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “It’s four o’clock in the morning, mate. Don’t ya reckon it’s a bit early for a send off? And what’s with the flowers?”
“I thought she’d like them.”
“Hmm.”
Sam looked at me. He kept frowning and raising his eyebrows and then frowning some more. I was positive he could see the big SHE DID IT stamped on my forehead. Still, I said nothing.
The loud speaker announced my flight. I picked up my backpack and turned back to Sam. Shit, now I was going to cry. I couldn’t leave like this. I had to explain or at least stop Sam from rearranging Johnny’s face with his fist.
“Is there something I should know about?” Sam’s voice was the quietest I’d ever heard it.
“Um.” I pressed my lips together and tried not to cry. I could feel my legs shaking against the side of my carry-on. How could I have done this to him? His heart was breaking right in front of me.
“Last call for Flight 727 to Denpasar. Could all passengers in seats one to fifteen please board now.”
“Millie?” Sam asked again.
I gestured to the queue. “I… I have to go.”
Sam looked at me. His eyes were filled with tears. “Right then,” he said. “I guess that’s it.”
27
By the time I arrived at Ngurah Rai Airport in Denpasar at ten that morning, I had cried every tear inside my head. My eyes were puffed and swollen and my skin was covered in blotches. I was wet from spilling my water on myself and trembling so violently people were looking at me as if I were having some sort of seizure. Maybe I was. I don’t know. All I knew was that Sam was in Australia, possibly committing some heinous crime of passion against Johnny or even himself. I’d lost him forever. My heart pounding with the overwhelming sadness of it all, I’d rung him three times in the five minutes it took me to disembark. He wasn’t picking up. All I got was the dismissal of his voicemail. I’d really fucked it up.
I went and stood in the line for Immigration, looking sorry for myself. All around me people were laughing, happy to be on holidays. Not me. My face felt as if I’d been on a sideshow ride, it was so taut from the salt that had dried on it. Slowly the line moved towards the wooden booths. I took another deep breath. Almost there. Soon, I’d be at the hotel. I could sleep for a week and when I woke up this would all be over. I’d be starting my new life.
Having finally progressed the to front, I handed over my passport and documents but the Immigration Officer seemed more intent on staring at me, his eyes narrowed with suspicion at the state of my face. I didn’t know what this problem was. Guess he’d never seen a woman in the throes of romantic despair before. With a few more inquisitive stares, he opened my passport.
“Return ticket?” His English was thick with an accent that was difficult decipher.
“Pardon?”
“You have return ticket?”
I looked around the mass of people who were waiting their turn. Why was he asking me this? He hadn’t asked anybody else. I swallowed and took a breath. “Um, no. I don’t know how l
ong I’m staying yet.”
“Holiday?”
I looked him in the eye and gripped my backpack a little tighter, trying to stop my hands from shaking. Clearly, he had some sort of issue with me. I didn’t want to make it worse. “No. Business. I want to buy a house.”
His mouth twisted as he studied my passport photo. He picked up his phone and said something to someone on the other end. Then he gave me a nod and stamped my passport. I was free to collect my bags.
“This is your bag?”
At the security check, another thin Indonesian man looked me over, as he hoisted my suitcase from the x-ray scanner and dumped it on a table. Clearly, he had been worded up by the Immigration man from the desk.
“Um, yes.”
“You pack this bag?”
I nodded. This was not good.
“Open bag, please.”
I paused. Confused. “But I have nothing to declare.” I pointed to the sign above his head.
He jabbered something into his two-way radio, words that were clipped and fast, causing another Customs Officer to appear from nowhere. They waved their hands around, conversing in Indonesian all the while, then the second man stepped aside and looked at me, his arms folded in a menacing manner. The first man spoke again. His voice was firmer, more aggressive. His hand went to the gun in the holster at his side. “Open bag, please.”
My shaking increased. I began to sweat. These men thought I was some sort of drug smuggler or something. Slowly, I unzipped my suitcase and watched as one by one they took out every item of clothing and inspected it. The final straw was when they held my knickers up and looked at each other. Oh God. I began to cry again. Huge, jagged sobs complete with even huger tears.
The men frowned at me. “You got drugs?”
“God, no. God.”
“Your face look nervous. You very shaking.”
Oh Jesus.
“Please, I’m not a drug smuggler. Search anything you like. I’ve got nothing. I just broke up with my boyfriend at the airport in Perth… after he found out about a bad thing I did. Please, Please let me go. I’m not a drug smuggler. I’m just an idiot.”
