Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (12 page)

Lydia pressed her lips together hard, wondering if Sam could
feel her body tense as she sat against him. “I’m trying,” she said, her
voice low. “Give me time, and I’ll get there. In the meantime, I
called. Is that really a big deal?”

“No. I’m just telling you that you don’t have to,” Matt said. “I
mean… we’re going to be divorced for the rest of our lives, for the rest of Andy’s life. I don’t check on you, call you two or three times a
day to see how he’s doing. I know you're a good parent, and I don't worry about him, because I don't have to. And I’m asking for a little of the same in return.”

“You’re right. Okay.”

“Okay.” Matt sighed. “Do you want to say good night to him?”

“Sure.” Lydia closed her eyes, swallowed hard. Sam squeezed her shoulder in assurance. She turned her face up to him and gave him a quick, forced smile before she heard Andy’s tiny helium voice say, “Mama?”

“Hi baby,” she cooed into the phone. “Hi sweetie. I just wanted to say good night to you. Are you having fun with Daddy? You had a good time today?”

“Yah,” Andy said, his voice sounding tired but happy. “Dada. Yah. Dada paaaahk.”

Lydia felt her whole face light up. “Park! Daddy took you to the park!”

“Yah,” Andy squeaked.

“You said ‘park’! Good boy!” she gushed, sitting up straighter in her joy. “That’s right, Daddy took you to the park! You must have had a really good time, huh?”

Sam watched her silently, taking in the complex myriad of
emotions she went through in such a short time. Her voice had immediately changed when she’d spoken to Matt. Her rich, lyrical speaking voice had gone almost completely flat in tone, tight, like speaking to Matt was something to be tolerated or endured.

He remembered how, the weekend they’d met, she had
mentioned
several times that she was tired a lot of the time, how she felt
drained. He was starting to grasp one of the main reasons why: if this was her
daily routine, she lived on an emotional roller coaster, flashing
quickly from a high to a low and back again within minutes, and possibly
did that multiple times in the course of a day. It was probably
exhausting,
both mentally and physically. He listened to the deep love and
affection in her voice as she wished her son sweet dreams; then how, within an instant, her voice went flat again as she said goodbye to Matt.

“Sorry about that,” she mumbled as she shoved her cell phone back into her bag.

“Andy said a new word?” Sam asked lightly.

Lydia broke into a broad smile. “He did. He tried to tell me that his father took him to the park, only he said ‘paaaahk’. It took me by surprise. A wonderful surprise, mind you.”

“That’s great,” Sam said. “Good for him.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, unable to get the soft, proud smile off her face. Sam pulled her back to rest against him once more and kissed her forehead tenderly. She nestled closer into him.

Within minutes, it was dark outside, and the cab was winding through the curvy streets of the West Village. Lydia couldn’t help
but laugh. “We’re just covering all of Manhattan today, aren’t we? Midtown, uptown, now way downtown—talk about a whirlwind
tour!”

“Are you enjoying it?” Sam asked.

“Absolutely,” she smiled. She turned her face up to his and
kissed him. His hand went to her cheek and held her face to his for more kisses until the cab stopped at their destination.

“How’d you even find this place?” Lydia asked as Sam ushered her into a small, sleek building. “I
live
in New York, and I wouldn’t know where to go.”

“The people I went out with last night, from the office,” he said. “I’d gone online to look at a few places, but I asked the group for any
good recommendations. Two of them insisted that I try this
restaurant,
that it’s just one of the best in the city. And that’s what I wanted, to
take you for some of the best sushi in the city. So I made a reservation last night, called right from the table. I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course it is.” The restaurant was full, vibrant with voices and music, the clanging of glasses, dishes, flatware. It was dimly lit, very stylish, and bustling with life.

The hostess led them to the only unoccupied table, a small table for two along the back wall. Lydia slid into the booth, Sam took the chair. They settled in, ordered drinks, looked over the menu, and ordered dinner. They made small talk until the waitress brought them their drinks.

When Sam had taken a long swallow of his heated sake, and made sure Lydia had taken two sips of her Merlot, he took a deep breath. Then he said in a quiet but unyielding tone, “I have a confession to make.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Okay. Should I be nervous?”

“No! Not at all.
I
should be.” He rubbed his jaw, tentative, momentarily rethinking his decision to tell her what he’d planned.
Then he dove in. “Remember how, the last day of the wedding weekend, after our big talk, I told you I had to come to New York for business, and wanted to make it longer, turn it into a whole weekend so we could get together?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said.

“Well…” Sam grinned sheepishly and locked his eyes on hers. “I, um… I kind of… lied. I've been wanting to tell you that.”

Lydia stilled. She stared at him, obviously waiting to hear the rest.

“I didn’t have a business trip already scheduled. I mean, I
do
come to New York for business trips, but this wasn’t one of them. I'm saying there was no pre-existing trip; I just wanted to see you again. But I thought if you… well, if I said I wanted to come out here just to see you, you’d balk. You were skittish as it was. So I made it up, that I was already coming out here.” He took a long sip of his sake, his steady gaze never leaving her face.

Lydia remained silent. Her expression was cool, composed, and to him, indecipherable.

“I
did
make a business trip out of it, once I’d decided to come out here,” Sam added, watching her carefully. “I set up appointments, I really did have meetings yesterday, and I really did go out with co-workers last night. But I set all that up
after
you’d agreed to see me. Kind of putting the cart before the horse, so to speak.” He let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Wow, terrible metaphor. Sorry.”

Lydia’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, her brows furrowed as she mulled over his words. She took a few deep
swallows of her wine, then her eyes lowered to her glass. He watched and waited as she concentrated on the deep red liquid that swirled in it. After what felt like an hour, she raised her gaze back up to meet his and asked softly, “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because it would’ve come out sooner or later,” Sam said. “And I felt compelled to tell you sooner. The day has been going so well—I don’t want there to be anything between us that’s not… true. From the start. And this is our start. So here’s the truth: I made up the trip so I could come out here and see you again. Now you know that. It's out, it's done.”

The waitress arrived at the table and placed a small white bowl of edamame in between them. Lydia reached across and picked out a fat pod, twirling it in her fingertips as she pondered.

“Are you angry at me?” Sam asked, feeling small stirrings of anxiety flow through him. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“No, no. I’m not angry at you. I just don’t really know what to
say
,”
she admitted, her voice low. “If I didn’t know you at all, I might
think you were… a little off your rocker. But we have spent the last two weeks getting to know each other…”

“So now you know for a
fact
that I’m a little off my rocker,” Sam joked.

Lydia smiled gently. “You must be. I can’t believe that you…
you
really did that? You made up, and then actually worked out, a
business
trip… just so you could see me again? That’s just…” Her voice
trailed off. She popped the beans from their pod and they fell to the table.

“You think I’m a stalker now, don’t you,” he said tersely.

“Ha! No! No.” She leaned in on her elbows, her gaze direct as she said, “I think you’re quick on your feet, and I’d better take note
of that. I think you’re one of the most unabashedly open people I’ve ever met. And that’s gutsy. I admire that in you. I think you’re incredibly sweet. I think you’re a repressed romantic. I really can’t believe you
did all this…” Her eyes fastened intently on his. “I’m incredibly flattered. I’m stunned. No one’s ever done anything like this
before… for
me
.” She shook her head in soft disbelief. “You’re lovely.”

Sam took her hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand with utmost tenderness and said plainly, “I had to see you again. And soon. It was really that simple. Inspiration hit and I ran with it. Thankfully, it worked.”

She pressed her lips together again, her standard gesture of ambivalence and hesitation which was already endearingly familiar.
He didn't release her hand, but caressed the back of it with his
thumb as they looked into each other’s eyes, both of them searching.

“I told you at that hotel, and I meant it. You just… you
hit
me,” Sam said quietly. “Sweetly, but hard. You knocked me on my ass. It
just felt
right
; it was like there was a knowing there, a click… and I know it sounds crazy, I do. But the only reason I don’t feel like a total idiot is
that you seemed to feel it too, and that you still do now. I’m not
imagining that, right?”

Her features softened and suffused with warmth as she smiled. “No, you didn’t imagine that. I felt it too, and as strongly as you did. And it made me feel a little crazy and idiotic too, I have to admit it—I’m usually much more pragmatic than this, bordering on cynical.
But… just because I can’t explain what’s going on between us,
doesn’t
mean it’s not really there. I felt what you felt. I feel what you’re
feeling. So I guess we’re on the crazy train together.”

Sam flashed a radiant smile. “Good. Excellent.” He lifted her
hand and kissed the back of it again, firmly this time. “And thank you for saying I’m not a complete jackass.”

She let out a short laugh. “Thank
you
. For doing all of this. It’s very, very sweet of you. Quite romantic,” she said, her tone hushed.
“I admit that I'm appropriately, completely enchanted as a result.”

He nodded and grinned his lopsided, satisfied grin. “Great. I’m glad,” he said. “Enchanted sounds really good.”

With her free hand, Lydia grasped her wine glass. As she
brought
it to her mouth, she paused, then drawled, “And to think, the whole
night’s still ahead of us… wonder if we’ll find a way to top it all
off?” Her eyes held his as she sipped her Merlot.

Not breaking her gaze, Sam leaned in closely and said in a
sensual purr, “I can think of a
few
ways. And I intend to show you each and every one of them.”

A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip and smiled in anticipation.

***

“Oh my God, I’m full,” Lydia moaned happily as they exited the restaurant. “Let’s not catch a cab just yet—can we walk a while? I need to move.”

“That sounds good, actually,” Sam said. “I’m full too, and that sake was strong.” He took her hand and grinned. “Lead the way, m’lady.”

They strolled up the street, taking in the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in Manhattan all around them. They looked at store windows, watched the interesting array of people that passed by, commented on things that stood out, and laughed together.

When they got up to the Avenue of the Americas, they could see
the majestic, easily recognizable arch of Washington Square Park across the way.

“Do you want to go over there?” Sam asked. “Or are two parks in one day too much?”

“I’d rather go somewhere dark and quiet,” she said.
“Somewhere where we can have a drink and just relax.”

“I don’t think there’s a shortage of bars in Manhattan,” he
cracked
with a grin. “So the question is, do you want to find one around
here,
then hop a cab back to the hotel? Or go back up to midtown, and
find a bar closer to the hotel?”

“The bars around here would probably have a little more
character,” Lydia said.

“Then let’s go,” Sam said. “We’re on a mission.”

They walked up a few more blocks as the air turned cooler, passing a few bars along the way that didn’t seem to speak to them.
Then, on
West 10
th
Street, they found a small, dark lounge. Peeking through the window, they saw velvet couches, dim lighting, and not too
many people. Lydia pulled Sam inside.

She went towards the back of the room, spotting an available
loveseat covered in deep crimson. Sam helped her slip off her coat, then removed his own and draped both over the back of it. “I’ll go
get some drinks,” he said. “What would you like? Another glass of Merlot?”

“No, I want something a little stronger now,” she said. “Vodka gimlet, please.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? You got it. Be back soon.”

“I’ll hold our couch.” She smiled as she sat. He winked at her and headed for the bar.

The loveseat wasn’t nearly as soft and comfortable as it
appeared, but it was fine. She settled into the high-backed, rounded corner of it and looked around. The place was small, but not claustrophobic; and
cozy. The shadowy lighting revealed rich shades of burgundy,
crimson,
and magenta on all sides of her. It wasn’t crowded; there were
perhaps twenty other patrons in the bar. She smiled at the song playing over
the sound system, an old ballad by Elvis Costello, one of her
favorites. Then she looked across the room at Sam, who was leaning casually against the bar as he spoke to the bartender.