“Never know,” Sammy said. “He works in mysterious ways.”
“Because if there is a God,” she said, “and that’s a big if, his first order of business after the storm that he created would be to restore cell service.”
“Maybe it was so I could bring you spiritual guidance,” he said. “Now tell me everything that has happened.”
“So that you can dispense spiritual guidance?”
He laughed. “No, because I’m bored and I’m hoping you’ve got some spicy stories to keep me awake.”
Paige looked at her watch. Four thirty. Not exactly quitting time. “Aren’t you still at work?”
“Yes, which is why I am B-O-R-E-D.” He sighed. “Been getting everything done before lunch. Amazing how productive I am without the Boss Lady interrupting me all day.”
“Sounds like she’s a real shrew.”
“Totally,” Sammy said. “That’s why I’m hoping she’s been getting some on her vacation.”
Paige’s momentary silence spoke volumes.
Sammy gasped. “You got down and dirty with the sexy innkeeper?” He lowered his voice as though someone might hear. “Did he look like Ryan Reynolds everywhere, or just the face?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe?” She sputtered.
“So you haven’t seen him naked?”
“I saw him without a shirt on the first day I arrived, and at least from the waist up, Mr. Reynolds has nothing on Lucas.”
“But I thought you said you were getting some. Tell me you did not do it with the lights off!”
“I didn’t do anything.” She waited a beat, then added, “Yet.”
“Oooh!”
“Settle down,” she said. “Jeez Louise, it’s not that big a deal. And it’s not even a yes, it’s a maybe.”
“Boss Lady, you getting laid by a new man happens about as often as the Vatican gets a new pope. Should I send up the smoke signal? I’m sure there’s something around here I can toss into the fireplace.”
“Those are gas logs. Do not put paper in there.”
“Luuucas,” Sammy said his name as though he was tasting a fine wine. “I like how it rolls off the tongue. Speaking of rolling tongues—”
“Samuel!” Paige whisper-shouted into the phone.
“What’s with the whisper? Oh! Is he there? Should we FaceTime? Let’s FaceTime.”
“No, we should not FaceTime. And no, he isn’t here. He went to the grocery store.”
“Wait, back up. Did you say maybe?”
“Yes.” she paused. “I think we are but…it’s complicated.”
Sammy laughed. “Aren’t they all?”
“No, this one is extra-complicated. He was married.”
He tsked. “Was being the operative word. That bitch is gone.”
“Sammy,” Paige grew serious. “She died.”
“Oh, shit.” Sammy’s tone was somber. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it that way.” He took a deep breath. “How long?”
“Two years.”
“People move on, Paige. You don’t have to feel guilty about that.” Up until that moment, Paige hadn’t quite been able to work out the mix of emotions she felt whenever she thought about being with Lucas. Sure, there was the obvious attraction. Even the first day she met him, she’d wanted to push him up against the refrigerator and climb him like a tree. And sure, there was the obvious trepidation about getting involved with someone else after the way she and her ex had gone down in flames. But there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Until now.
She knew it was ridiculous. Lucas was a young man. His wife had been gone for two years. He was entitled to move on. None of which made her feel any less guilty. But for what exactly? For wanting this woman’s husband? For being alive when Jenny wasn’t? Paige hadn’t even known either of them then. She had no reason to feel guilty. But there was something else swirling around in the pit of her belly.
Fear.
“I just don’t know if he’s ready.”
“That’s for him to decide. You have to take him at his word.”
At his word. Like when her ex used the words “Will you marry me”? Or how about when he said “I love you”?
“I know that’s hard for you,” Sammy said. “But it’s time, Paige. Well past it, if you ask me.” He always read her like an open book. For a while, she thought she must have given clues with her body language or facial expressions, but apparently his skills extended to phone calls as well.
“That’s not all.”
“What, has he decided to switch teams?” Sammy teased, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Because if so, I’m on the next flight.”
“He has a four-year-old daughter.” She paused before dropping the bomb she knew would send her assistant over the edge. “Who I’m currently babysitting.”
Sammy erupted in a fit of laughter. “Good one.”
“I’m not joking.”
“You? Babysitting?” The laughter started again. “Then what are you doing talking to me? Shouldn’t you be playing Barbies or something?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“You don’t have to sound so smug. I’ll have you know I actually get along quite well with her.”
“Have you bonded over your mutual love of chocolate?”
“Not yet,” Paige said. “I can’t explain it really. She’s just a lot more curious and insightful than I expected a kid her age to be. Don’t get me wrong; if dessert is on the line, she works every angle with her dad.” Something Paige could totally relate to. “And she drags this ragtag team of stuffed animals with her all over the house.” A level of clutter Paige could do without. “But her outlook on life is just so…refreshing.”
“Is that the tick-tock of a biological clock I hear?”
Paige snorted. “Absolutely not.” If she were being honest, she would have admitted that earlier, when she was watching Lucas with his young daughter, she found herself starting to think maybe she could have room in her life, not to mention her heart, for a child. But the moment the idea crept into her mind, she swatted it away. What in the world had she been thinking? She’d opted for a cat because dogs were too much responsibility. What would she do with a baby…leave a litter box in its nursery? Although to be fair, the puppies in the living room were starting to do a number on her resolve as well. Paige shoved the thoughts aside, deciding this was just the type of crazy thing that happened when a person had too much downtime. She’d return to normal once she was back in Chicago. “My life is perfect just the way it is,” she said, more to herself than her friend. Problem was, even to her own ears, she didn’t sound very convincing.