Page 290 of A Matter of Time

I stared at him, and he leaned close and kissed me. It was so soft and so tender, and I tried to deepen it, to draw him down, but he resisted.

“You can hurt me a little, Sam,” I breathed against his mouth. My split lip didn’t even hurt.

“I already did,” he said softly. “Never again.”

And I knew he meant when he’d left. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said, his eyes on my face. “But I have the rest of my life to make it up to you.”

“Sam—”

He cleared his throat. “C’mon, baby, get your belt on. We gotta hurry.”

“Why?”

“’Cause my mom’s making her world-famous moussaka for Mike’s new girl, and we don’t wanna miss the carnage.” He almost cackled.

“That’s not funny,” I told him, scowling. “Your family is big and loud and scary. Poor girl.”

“It’s a little funny. And don’t kid yourself, you love my family.”

“I love you,” I said, turning the heater up.

“What?”

Too late I realized what I’d said. And I had voiced it before, three years ago, but not since he’d returned, and not without him asking me, pressuring me. The words had simply tumbled out, and I could tell he was very pleased.

“J…what?”

“What?” I looked at him. I was hoping to play it off like it was nothing.

“Say it again.”

“Say what?” I asked innocently. Maybe he’d let it go.

He smiled evilly. “You know what ya said.”

No chance he was letting it go.

“C’mon,” he prodded me. “Say it again.”

I stared at him, and he leaned over the emergency brake to give me a quick kiss.

“I love you,” he breathed down the side of my neck.

“I love you too.”

And the smile on his face when he leaned back, so wide, so arrogant, so relieved, so smug, was not to be missed. I had created a monster with four little words.

Even though it was Thursday night, instead of Sunday, there were enough people that we needed to park the usual half a block away. With an arm draped over my shoulders, Sam guided me through the front yard and around the side of the house to the steps that led to the back door of the large two-story, redbrick, A-frame home. I followed him into the kitchen, and as soon as I was inside, I smelled the food.

“Jesus, what is that?” I said, breathing it in. I was almost salivating right there.

“It’s the moussaka.” He smiled at me. “I told you it’s world famous.”

“It smells like heaven.”

He winked at me before he yelled, “Mom! I’m home.”