Page 9 of Dreaming Without Heartache

Sam walks closer to me. Bill’s office is big. His desk is in the back center of the room with a bar to its right and bookshelves on the other side. A coffee table and two big leather chairs occupy the middle of the room. He could see the girls doing homework from here while he worked. He was an attentive dad when he was home. He worked so hard so Annie could be here with the girls. She loved being a full-time mom. It’s something we never had. He loved being a lawyer and providing a life my sister adored. Their relationship was one of a kind.

“Do you have wine?” Sam asks. She’s standing in front of me now.

I reach beneath the cabinet, grabbing a bottle from the wine rack. “Red?” I lift up one bottle.

“Yes.” Sam nods. “Thank you.” She stares at me with those stunning eyes that stand out against her green shirt. Her dark-brown hair is shiny and straight. It flows long past her shoulders to the middle of her back. She’s easily the most attractive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I turn my attention to the wine, pouring a hefty amount into a wineglass.

“Whoa, there!” Sam laughs. She takes a sip, then nods her approval, a grin spreading across her face.

I study the drink in my hand. “Does Kara have a boyfriend?” I take another sip, preparing myself for what I may not want to hear.

“I’m not sure. She and Olivia talk about boys, but there isn’t a name that comes to mind.”

“Thank you. She doesn’t talk to me anymore.” I don’t tell her about the car parked in front of the house a couple of nights ago. “I know she’s smoking cigarettes. That’s why she’s grounded longer than a week.”

“I’m so sorry, Allie.” Sam touches my arm. “I didn’t know. Is there anything I can do to help?”

I sigh and shake my head. It’s all l have to offer. I don’t know what I need. “I’d better get back to the food.”

Sam follows me to the kitchen. “What can I do?” She places her wineglass on the bar and rubs her hands together. It’s very appealing. I shake that thought from my head.

The oven timer beeps, reminding me to turn the chicken. I pick up the fork to flip them. “Want to check the potatoes?” They are boiling now.

“On it.” Sam pokes the potatoes with a fork. Her hip lightly bumps into my shoulder as I’m bent over to turn the chicken. She looks at me. “Still not ready.”

“Thanks.” I stand to get the green beans from the fridge. I feel I should add more green foods to our starchy dinner.

“Sam, come help us. We need you,” Maisie says. She’s propped up with her knees on the dining chair and bent over the puzzle. “Please,” she begs.

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

“You can go help them. I’ve got this.” I wash the beans and then start halving them.

“You trying to get rid of me?” I hear the grin in her voice before I look over to see it.

“Yes.” I smile. “But only because the girls enjoy your company and I want them to be happy.”

Sam carries her wine and walks past me. “Okay. But let me know when those potatoes are ready. After that warning about your cooking, you aren’t to be trusted.” I like the sound of her voice. I can tell she isn’t from the South originally. Her accent is more northern.

The three of them giggle at the table while they work on the puzzle. I sit back and watch them. Our loss is still so fresh. This feels like the first time we’ve actually relaxed in this house together since the accident. Sam’s helping with that. How have I not met her officially before? I remember talking at the funeral, but I wasn’t myself that day. Annie talked about Olivia a lot, but she only mentioned Sam a couple of times that I can remember. Maybe I was too wrapped up in my own life to have noticed. Life has a way of doing that.

The stove beeps again for me to check the chicken. It easily pulls apart with the fork. I flip them one last time and turn off the oven. I go to check the potatoes, but Sam appears beside me.

“Ready?” she asks and sticks the fork into the potatoes. “Perfect. Do you have a colander?”

“Um…” I dig under the cabinet. “I know I saw one recently.” I open another door and see a few of them. The red-handled one should work. “Here you go.”

Sam takes it to the kitchen sink and pours the potatoes into it before putting them back into the pan. I take some butter from the fridge and slide it next to her.

“Need anything else?” I ask her.

“Milk, salt, and mayo,” she says, plugging in the blender I had on the counter.

I grab the ingredients and place them next to her, then get out some plates. “Girls, do you want to eat on the patio?”

“Yes!” Maisie says, bouncing in her seat. “Please!”