“It’s weird to think it’s been ten years,” Sam commented. “But... I’ve liked seeing you again,” he added. Suddenly, this conversation felt so much more. Like an admission. One that I didn’t quite know what to do with. I had liked seeing Sam, too. Maybe a little too much.
Tipping my glass up to my lips, I swallowed the rest of my drink. The sensible part of me, the bit of my brain warning me that following this train of thought could only lead to heartache, was easily overruled by a more spontaneous side that I rarely allowed out.
“Then let’s celebrate,” I suggested, glancing around for inspiration. Our jobs were done, nobody was going to miss us. Suddenly, I yearned to do something young and carefree and irresponsible.
Thinking back to my conversation with Charlotte about how I’d wanted my wedding to be, I knew exactly what we should do.
“Let’s borrow a rowing boat!”
The park was only a short walk away. The kiosk would, of course, be closed at this time of night. But I was willing to bet they didn’t lock the boats up!
“Or not!” Sam laughed. “I’m not letting you row drunk, Worth,” he informed me, clinking his glass against mine. “But! I will walk down to the water with you. For as long as we don’t go in it.” Which seemed, while somewhat disappointing, a fair trade. It was funny to see Sam be the more responsible one.
Still, it was kind of nice.
Once again, I couldn’t help but compare how different this was. A grown-up version of Sam that I hadn’t quite expected to meet. And maybe, a part of me felt sad that I hadn’t seen Sam turn into this mature, grown-up man. But then, perhaps he would have turned out differently if we’d stayed together. It was a strange thought, because I liked this new Sam.
It was easy to slip, laughing, through the front door of the reception venue and out onto the wide avenue. My hand strayed towards Sam’s, fingers brushing lightly across his palm before I snatched it back.
I’d always been the good girl. It felt exciting to do something a little reckless. Even if Sam wasn’t going to let me borrow a boat.
“Where do you think we’ll be another ten years from now?” I asked. We’d be forty, which felt ancient even compared to being thirty.
When Sam didn’t reply straight away, I wondered if maybe the question was a bit too far. But glancing at him, it was easy to tell that he was just thinking about it. We walked in comfortable silence as I managed to keep my hands to myself.
“Ten years from now, I’ll be at the end of my playing career, if I’m lucky enough to play until then,” Sam hummed. “I’ve not got a lot of ideas for retirement yet. It’d be nice to have kids by then, maybe I can be lucky enough to be someone’s househusband,” he joked, giving me a grin.
We walked for a little longer before Sam spoke again. “I think if you had asked me ten years ago where I thought I’d be at thirty, my response might have been similar. Just with more hockey and less retiring. It’s hard to predict what will happen.”
That was fair. My life was more predictable than Sam’s, and involved a lot less retiring at forty. “I know I’ll still be living here,” I said, gesturing around as at the park I must have walked through a hundred times since I’d moved to Lunengrove. “And that’s comforting. No matter what else might change, I know where I’ll be, and to some extent who I’ll have around me.”
Sure, a decade from now I would probably have lost some people. My grandma was already nearing eighty-five. But I’d have a town full of friends and neighbors.
“I’ll still be writing people’s wills and helping newlyweds with the paperwork for their first homes.”
I, too, wanted children. “Hopefully, I’ll have a couple of kids. And a husband to help me raise them.”
Feeling that the mood was getting far too serious, I turned the subject slightly. “Of course, ten years from tonight we’ll probably both be at Pat and Charlotte’s anniversary party!”
Sam laughed. I grinned, enjoying being able to make him laugh. It was a luxury that I had forgotten about. He understood that I was trying to lighten the mood. We’d always been so good at that, at understanding when things needed to be let go. Except perhaps when then we no longer were.
“With their kids here! I bet they’ll have the most adorable little kids,” he informed me. Just from Sam’s tone of voice, I could tell he genuinely looked forward to that. He’d make an excellent uncle, I had no doubt. I would be very excited to be an ‘aunt’ to Charlotte’s kids.
“You’ll be great with them,” I assured Sam, leaning against the rough bark of a nearby tree. “You were great with Ethan!” The memory of seeing Sam pay such close attention to my nephew stirred a warm, fluttering feeling in my heart.
In the darkness, I could just about make out Sam’s profile against the distant lights. Knowing that he could only see me as well as I could see him, it felt safe to watch him.
I knew that face, could remember the way his hair felt when I ran my fingers through it. The memory of his lips on mine sent a warm shock through me.
“Thanks for coming out here with me,” I said, hoping that by speaking I could prevent my mind from wandering down such dangerous avenues.
Even in the dim light, I could see the way Sam smiled. “Couldn’t let you go
