Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(35)

“She’s the kind of woman you love, even if you don’t know her,” Sam replied.

“She sounds like it.”

“What’s your Ma like?”

I pulled in breath and let it out softly then said, “Like a Mom. She cooks comfort food. She goes overboard with Christmas decorations. She knocks herself out for you every birthday because, for her, that was a day that changed her life in a way she liked a whole lot and she wants you to know it. We did the whole stereotype thing. Kyle, my older brother, was Mom’s little man and still is, even though now he’s big. I was Daddy’s little girl. So Mom was the one who was tough on me and Kyle got away with everything with her. And Dad was the one who was tough on Kyle and I could get anything I wanted if I ran to Dad. But, when I say tough, I mean in the sense that parents are supposed to be tough. They were good parents, then and now. I love them both and they both love me.”

“And how’d they feel about your husband?”

“They hated him,” I answered instantly.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“They tried,” I whispered back quickly, not wanting him to think they didn’t. “That was what I was thinking about last night when you saw me. I was thinking how I should have noticed they were trying and let them help me.”

Sam’s face warmed, his eyes grew understanding and his arms gathered me closer.

Then he said gently, “We’re not goin’ there, baby, not now. Now is for us. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Okay,” I agreed readily because I didn’t want to go there, not now, not in Sam’s arms, not after drunkenly remembering to warn him about me and then drunkenly forgetting I was supposed to be doing that and, instead, loving living this moment with him, so much, there was no way I was letting it go.

“Okay,” he whispered.

And that was when I pressed closer rather than Sam gathering me closer and I lived that moment with him, talking about my brother, my Mom, my Dad, Paula, Teri and Missy and listening to him talk about his Mom, his brother Ben, Luci and his friend and brother-in-arms Travis “Gordo” Gordon.

And apparently falling asleep living that moment with him because, hours later, still wearing my gown, I woke up in much the same position, in his arms, pressed close and feeling something I hadn’t felt in years. Something precious I lost and, even precious, I didn’t notice it was missing but something I recognized as precious instantly when I got it back.

Safe.

* * * * *

And this brought me to now, awake, in my gown, the sun shining into the bedroom where Sam and I slept together.

And I had done everything Celeste had told me not to do (except gorging myself on food). I had drank too much and shared too much.

Shit.

I pulled in a silent, steadying breath and, eyes glued to Sam’s gorgeous, sleeping face, carefully I disentangled myself from his body, slid away, rolled and found my feet at the side of the bed.

Twisting the instant I did because I heard him move, I looked to see he simply settled more onto his front and one of his hands had gone up and disappeared under my pillow.

I let out my breath.

Then I scanned the room that also had a tiled floor and a scattering of plush, attractive, lush, comfortable-looking furniture but, obviously, in the bedroom it absolutely invited you to take a nap.

Amongst other things.

Hmm.

I tiptoed to an armchair so my thin heels wouldn’t sound on the tile and sat on it. Then I bent forward and unstrapped my shoes, not believing I’d slept in them, much less my fabulous gown, and trying to remember when I drifted off to sleep hoping that I didn’t do it when Sam was talking as that would be rude at the same time hoping I didn’t do it when I was talking because that would be embarrassing and realizing, either way, I was screwed.

I set the shoes aside and did another scan of the room, seeing it had a huge, polished wardrobe and two doors. One was the one we used to enter the room. The other, I hoped was a bathroom.

Careful to be quiet, I made my way to the door, opened it and discovered I was right. Then I slipped into it, closed the door, turned on the light, did my business and then, while washing my hands, I froze when I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

Not because I was wearing last night’s makeup, which, thankfully, didn’t look smudged and scary.

But because my hair was down and falling around my shoulders in messy, curly waves and I remembered something about last night that I forgot.

I remembered getting into telling Sam the story of Kyle and his buddies taking me and Paula (who had been my friend since high school) to our first kegger whereupon me and Paula got totally hammered and when they brought us home, both Paula and I hurled in Mom and Dad’s backyard, causing Kyle and his buddies to tell us repeatedly, loudly and without any hope of success to be quiet which resulted in Mom and Dad catching us. I was giggling at this, Sam was smiling at it and throughout telling him the story, his fingers were working in my hair, pulling out the pins.

It felt nice then and, staring at myself in the mirror, it felt nice remembering it.

But it was more.

After I finished that story by sharing with Sam that Mom and Dad had forced Kyle and his buddies to apologize in person to Paula’s parents and then mow their yard free for the summer as penance, Sam shared with me the story of the first time his brother called him when he was hammered to ask Sam to come pick him up. Sam did but Ben hadn’t shared that it was not only Ben who was hammered, his girlfriend and her three friends were with him and also needed rides home. They were not hammered but completely shitfaced and Sam unwisely loaded them all into his car whereupon three of the four females and Ben hurled in his car and he had to sell it because he could never get rid of the smell.