Premiere: A Love Story (10 page)

“She sleeps. . . .” Peter whispered a few minutes later.

Shit!
Sam thought and cracked open her eyes expecting to see the two of them looking like kids sneaking home after a night of revelry, but it was only Peter. He was leaning in the doorway with his jacket over his arm like someone propped him there.

“What are you doing? Where’s Grady? Tell me he’s not . . .”

“Bathroom,” Peter answered while leaning to point down the hall. He almost lost his balance and swayed back, grabbing the door molding to steady himself.

“Whoa, that was a close one,” he said, now brave enough to walk toward Sam.

She was still unsettled and upset about the scene in the play, but damn if he wasn’t sexy and smoldering as he threw himself into the chair next to her. His eyes were heavy and his navy jacket, probably linen, dropped on the floor. Peter rubbed his hands over his face, stretched his long legs, and crossed them at the ankles. His hair looked like he may have taken a nap in the car ride over.

Peter closed his eyes, and Sam allowed herself to notice, once again, that Peter had grown up very nicely. How could she hate him and want to drag him to the floor at the same time?

“Tough night?”

Peter opened one eye and turned toward her. She couldn’t help it, she smiled.

“We, there was this thing. Grady came by the theater and said we should go, he invited me, said we could blow off . . .”

“Some steam? Oh, Peter, you fell for that? Hmm . . . you have been gone too long.”

“I know. I know, but he’s so damn persuasive, and I felt wound up. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but how do people do this all the time? I only had four, maybe five, beers. I should be embarrassed. I love the fact that my face is completely numb along with my brain, but the spinning . . . what kind of a man admits to spinning after only four beers?”

Peter closed his eyes again and rested his head. He looked wrinkled and tired, but a little reckless. It was different. Sam found herself forgetting that she hated him.

“I should get back,” she said.

“Yeah, I was going to ask you why you were hiding in here,” he said, eyes still closed.

“I’m not hiding. I needed to take a break, but I should get back.”

Sam stood, and Peter opened his eyes.

“The shower sounds great. We heard a lot of happy giggling while we were sneaking up the stairs. You’re not having a good time?”

“No. I mean, yes, I’m having a good time. Your sister’s fun and clearly very much in love. Mrs. Malendar is in charge of the whole thing, so of course it’s scary perfect.”

Sam let out a laugh.

“Right, that’s the well-rehearsed token answer, Miss Cathner, so why are you sitting in the study?”

“You’ve definitely had five beers.”

“True, but that’s not why you’re in the study.”

“Christ, Peter, I needed some air, a breather. Aren’t you worried about Grady? Where . . .”

“I make it a habit never to worry about Grady. He’s probably taking a little nap or he’s downstairs. Now that would be worth the price of admission. I’m pretty sure he’s dated half the women at the shower.”

He laughed and then put his hands to his head. Laughter erupted from downstairs, and they could hear Cynthia shouting answers to the next game.

“Oh boy it’s starting to get rowdy,” Peter mocked.

“I’m heading back down. Will you be all right?”

“Probably not for some time, but I’m going to sit here until someone finds me or the room settles down.”

Sam walked toward the door.

“Sam, you don’t need to leave yet, they’re still playing stupid games. You’re not into that.”

“Oh really, how do you know what I’m into? It’s been four years.”

“I know.”

His eyes were closed again, and he sounded a little sinister. When she walked back toward him, the corner of his mouth turned up.

“Still know how to piss you off, don’t I?”

“You are quite good at it.”

“I like games. I only needed a . . .”

“Break. Yeah, so you said. Cynthia does seem happy. I used to think Alan wasn’t really the guy for her, but they’re good for each other. She deserves happy.”

Peter grabbed his jacket off the floor, reached into the pocket, and pulled out an open bag of peanut M&M’S.

“Want one?”

“Peanut, my favorite.”

“See, I told you . . . I know you.”

Sam took it, poured a few into her hand, and sat back down.

“When? Where did you get these?”

“Right around the time Grady declared he needed a red Slurpee, and we had the driver pull over. For some reason I wanted peanut M&M’S.”

Their eyes met and again it was effortless.

“Hmm . . . well, they’re the very best candy.”

Peter laid his head back and closed his eyes again. Sam did the same. Other than the crunch of peanuts, it was quiet. They sat there for a while and said nothing. Peter began to laugh.

“What?”

“Remember when you went to that dance with . . . oh, what was his name?”

“Harrison,” Sam moaned immediately and he laughed harder.

“Right, right, Harrison of Pasadena Prep. God, remember him?”

“I do. He was . . . he had very nice hair.”

She tried to keep a straight face.

“Oh please, he was a complete lunatic. His teeth were capped before he was fifteen.”

Now they both laughed.

“He was . . . high maintenance.”

“That’s an understatement. Remember when you called me from their big ball, cotillion thing and told me to come get you?”

Sam remembered.

“I do. It was so bad. I should have known when the corsage he gave me took up half my arm, but when he ever started doing the running man . . .”

Now they were belly laughing.

“What did you say to him? I remember pulling up and you came running out to the car in that, that dress.”

“Cramps, I used the steadfast excuse for all things awful or uncomfortable. I pulled him aside and said I had to leave because it was my time. The look on his face, it was priceless. Guys never ask any questions when you bring up cramps. It was perfect.”

Peter shook his head and reached for more M&M’S.

“What was wrong with my dress?”

“Oh, nothing. It was, wasn’t it black?”

“Yes, it was. I loved that dress. It was my first dress that wasn’t pink with some kind of bow or ruffle. It was my slinky dress.”

“I remember it very well. It was short. My seventeen-year-old mind remembers it being short, and you were wearing very high heels. Yeah, I remembered those heels for quite some time.”

She looked over at Peter, whose eyes were still closed. She’d never realized the dress or the heels left such an impression. She wanted to stay in the memory with him.

“Well, if I forgot to say it then, thank you for rescuing me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Quiet filled their space again.

“What made you think of Harrison?”

“I remember that we drove to Memorial Park after I picked you up. We sat in my car and talked for hours.”

He looked over at her, and the warmth was back. Sam nodded.

“There was a concert at the Levitt Pavilion. For some reason that memory is so vivid. It was a gorgeous night, and you, you were in those heels.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d taken the damn things off by the time we got to the park and you brought me M&M’S.”

They both looked at each other. Even though they were older, and Sam tried to remember to be angry, it felt so wonderful, like being home, so unstudied sitting there together.

“Well, I thought you might need them after your Harrison trauma. If I’d known about the running man moves, I would have brought two bags.”

“Who was playing that night? I can’t remember.”

“I think it was some jazz band. They did that song ‘I’m All Right,’ and the woman singing had such a great voice. I bought that song when I moved . . .”

Peter’s voice trailed off, but not before Sam saw for a minute how important the memory was.

“So, I wonder where old Harrison is now,” he added.

“I think he married one of the teaching assistants from his school.”

“No!”

“Yes, yes, I’m pretty sure that’s what I heard. My question is were they dating while he was still in high school? Now that’d be a scandal. Such a shame it didn’t work out with us.”

More laughing. Her chest squeezed. Sam needed to bring the conversation back to the present, remind herself how all of this ended. Why did she continue to allow him in?

“Cynthia’s wedding is in less two months away. Are you, excited, nervous?”

“Umm, I’m excited for her, maybe a little nervous. The whole man-of-the-family thing can get to be too much, but I want to be there for her, so it’s fine. Looking forward to going to Catalina.”

He smiled.

“Me too. When was the last time you were there?”

“Jeez, it’s been years. Sophomore year in college maybe? When were . . . you were there too. The summer Grady broke his arm playing rugby? That was sophomore year, right?”

“Yeah. Wow, it has been a long time for you.”

“And you? When were you there last? Did you and Brian go to Catalina too?” Peter jabbed, his eyes still closed, but the corners of his mouth curled.

“Nice. Very mature.”

“What? I’m just asking. So?”

“Catalina, I went to Catalina with my family last year, and Brian stayed home. The town dedicated a memorial to my grandparents in the botanical gardens. It was touching. Every time I hear about them, I learn something new. They were wonderful people. We spent a week there, had a blast. Watching Henry perfect his pick-up lines was worth the trip.”

Peter was listening, watching her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“You have a great family, Sam.”

“I do,” she said, feeling a little sad for Peter, but there was no question, her family was the real deal. Generations of great people, in fact, and huge, huge shoes to fill.

“Definitely some pressure there too, you know. I’m sure my father was hoping one of his children would at least get a law degree or something.”

“I know, but they’re so solid. Besides I remember you handling the pressure perfectly fine. You’ve always been, you still are. Jesus, why is it I can’t seem to speak? You’re a fantastic woman, Sam. I’m sure your family is very proud.”

It was silent again, and the M&M’S were gone. Sam’s heart started yearning to stay, to be in the present with Peter, and it hurt. Peter took a deep breath and she said nothing. Her mind returned to the wedding shower and the thought that someone might be looking for her. Crazy as he made her, painful past and all, Sam realized she would still rather sit and talk with Peter than with anyone else in the world. Some things truly never changed.

Peter opened his eyes to look at her.

“Sam, you ever think about marriage, getting married?”

“Well, if Harrison . . .”

“I’m serious. Marriage, spending your life with one person. Ever think about it?”

She said nothing.

“Well, do you?” he asked again.

“I guess, sure, I’ve thought about it.”

“Settling down in some big house here, Bunko on Saturday night, kids at the park on Sunday?”

“Umm, not a fan of Bunko, and the house can’t be too big. People can get lost in a big house. I want to be close.”

Peter wanted to tell her he did too, but this was the first civil conversation they’d had since he returned, and he did not want to blow it.

“As for the kids, you asked me about marriage. I can’t say I ever think much about kids, but I’d like to have them someday. Right now, I’m enjoying my work.”

“Here? You’d live here?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t live in Hollywood, but it depends on who I’m marrying.”

“Brian? Grady said you two dated for quite a while, right?”

“We did. Brian’s a wonderful guy. Solid.”

Sam decided to have some fun. He brought it up.

“But, he’s a firefighter. Really tough job and when I moved back here . . . I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Peter suddenly felt anxious.
Of course he was a damn firefighter!

“He did seem nice, but . . . not really your type.”

“What? Peter, you don’t know anything about my type. I’m going downstairs now before you make a complete ass out of yourself. Sleep it off.”

Peter stood up just as she did, and they were face to face.

“I know more than you think I do. I know you, Sam. Even after all of these years, I still, I know.”

He brushed the hair out of her face and trailed his fingers along the side of her neck.

“It feels the same. Your skin.”

Heart drumming, all Sam could do was stare at him. She wanted to touch his face, but didn’t move. For the first time since he had arrived home, Sam wasn’t angry.

“I used to think I could never live in Pasadena again. I couldn’t wait to get out of here, especially once Dad was gone.”

The words coming out of his mouth and the messages in his eyes, his touch, were once again all full of Peter’s conflict.

“Is that so?” Sam wondered where he was going with this.

“If you couldn’t wait, why are you back?”

“I, my play’s here. I didn’t mean to hurt . . .”

“You brought it here to help the Playhouse. You could have just written a check. Why this play? Why now, Peter?”

“It needs to be here. I need to be, I want . . . why didn’t you tell me you came to New York, that you saw my play?”

He leaned closer and she could feel his breath as he hovered. Everything told Sam to pull away, do something, but she physically could not move. She was searching for some air where there was none. Peter brought both hands to her face, leaned into her neck and whispered, “Samantha. I came home because I need . . .”

Peter searched his fuzzy brain for the perfect words and failed miserably. She was so close, and he fought the urge to simply grab her, to show her why he’d come home.

“Well, am I interrupting something?”

Sam jumped and the back of her hand smacked Peter on the chin. He fell into his chair putting his hand to his head again.

“Hello, Grady. Perfect timing as always. Pretty long piss you took there,” Peter said.

Grady walked toward them laughing.