Saying it out loud to Tessa had only confirmed what he had instinctively known—that this was his life now, and he needed to start living it. Not just managing it, not just keeping his head above water, not just surviving, but taking charge, making changes. He'd invested his time in his business but not his heart.
Maybe that's what he'd done with his marriage, too. Maybe it had been easier to live the life that had happened to him instead of making it his own. But, hell, when had he had time to think about any of it; he'd been too busy growing up, being a father, running a business.
Well, it was time now. In fact, it was past time.
The door opened behind him, and he didn't have to turn around to know that Alli had entered the room. He could smell her. He could feel her. Maybe it was because they hadn't had sex in months. Maybe that was why he was so attuned to her. He couldn't possibly miss her.
"Grams hasn't changed," she said.
He turned around and saw the shadows under her eyes, the tight lines around her mouth, the worry in her expression. Her hair drifted loose from its clip, and her black pants and matching sweater only emphasized her aura of gloom.
"The doctors said it was normal for Phoebe's body to shut down for a while," he reminded her. "She's suffered a trauma."
"It's been twenty-four hours since it happened. I think that's long enough to sleep, especially for Grams. She never sleeps. I talked to her, trying to get her interested enough to open her eyes and look at me, but she just wouldn't. It's so frustrating."
Sam looked at the clock on the wall, suddenly realizing it was after five. He'd meant to get back to the hospital but he'd let the work take over his mind, relieved to have something constructive to focus on. "When did you see your grandmother?"
"About an hour ago. William was still there. I don't think he's left her side all day." Alli cleared her throat and looked down at her shoes. "Apparently, he lent Tessa his car so she could go back to the house and rest."
Sam nodded, wary of Tessa's entrance into the conversation.
"I'd like to go back tonight, but I don't want to take Megan there again," Alli said. "She needs to be at home, watching television, playing, being normal. I don't want her worrying about Grams."
"I'll stay with her."
Alli hesitated. "At the house?"
"At our house," he said pointedly. "Of course."
"I didn't know if it would be uncomfortable for you to be there."
"It's uncomfortable for me to not be there," he said shortly.
"I told you I would leave and you could stay, Sam."
"And I told you it was better for Megan to be with her mother in her own house, her own bedroom. I still feel that way."
"Well, thank you,"
"Would you stop being so fucking polite?" he shouted, fed up with their conversation.
"Polite? You're angry with me for being polite?" she asked in amazement. "That's a switch. Didn't you call me selfish, childish? Now I'm in trouble for acting like a polite adult? I can't win, can I?"
For some reason he was relieved to see the sparkle come back into her eyes, the color sweep across her cheeks. She looked alive again. She looked like Alli.
"I'm the one who can't win," he said. "You get pregnant, so I marry you. But that's not enough. I work like a dog to make a life for us, but I don't spend enough time with you. I take care of you and watch over you, but because I don't send you love letters, I'm a bastard."#p#分页标题#e#
"I never asked for love letters. I asked for love," she cried, stepping forward as she shook her finger in his face. "Not once, Sam Tucker—not once have you ever said I love you."
Her wedding ring caught in the fading sunlight and sent sparks dancing off the wall, blinding him with memories. So she hadn't taken it off. He couldn't hear what she was saying. He couldn't remember what he was going to say, because her face was too close and her breath came in gasps that reminded him of the way she breathed when they made love.
He felt himself lean forward and saw her do the same. Suddenly her mouth was in reach, her lips were under his, and she tasted like his best dream, his best meal, his best kiss.
And she kissed him back. Her lips opened under his and he slipped his tongue between the seam before she had a chance to shut him out, before she remembered that she didn't like him and he didn't love her. But this wasn't about thinking, it was about feeling, wanting, taking, and he took, kissing her again and again, his body hardening with each taste, his hands seeking her soft curves.
She seemed to melt into him like a sail catching a breeze, going along for the ride, for the simple thrill of it all. It was so easy, so freeing, so—over.