And that was definitely something I could go with.
I drove home and a couple houses down from ours I hit the remote for the gate then hit the button for the garage. By the time I was ready to pull in both were open. I did the button thing again the minute I cleared the gate then shut the garage door behind me after I turned off the car.
Then I went up the stairs to the kitchen.
I thought I’d hear the game but I didn’t.
And Memphis didn’t yap at me.
Hmm.
“Honey! I’m home!” I called and that was when I heard Memphis yap.
It was coming from upstairs.
But nothing from Sam.
I rounded the stairs and looked through the living room.
No Sam.
“Honey?” I called and got another yap from Memphis; I looked up and saw her at the top of the stairs. She yapped at me again. “Hey, baby,” I called as I moved up the stairs.
Memphis yapped her reply.
Three steps from her, I leaned in and she bounced into my arms.
Cuddling her, I was heading toward the office but heard something in the bedroom so, brows drawing together, I moved there.
Then I stopped dead in the doorway.
Sam was packing his big black leather duffle. The duffle he used when he went to Italy then went with me to Crete and Indiana.
I didn’t get a good feeling about this.
“Sam?” I whispered, my eyes going to him to see his movements were economical, practiced and swift.
He dumped something from the dresser into his bag, what, I didn’t care and his eyes came to me.
“Baby, got a gig I gotta do. I’ll be gone three weeks, month tops.”
I froze.
He had a gig where he’d be gone three weeks, a month tops?
What.
The.
Fuck?
“Sorry?” I asked and my voice sounded strangled.
Sam didn’t repeat himself. But as he moved to the walk-in, he kept talking.
“I’ll text or call to let you know when to expect me home.” He disappeared into the walk-in and kept speaking. “But until then communication will be random and infrequent.”
He was suddenly and without notice leaving for three weeks and telling me communication would be random and infrequent.
Was he high?
Seriously?
I forced myself to come unstuck, wandered partially into the room and he came out with a load of jeans and shirts.
“You’re leaving for three weeks?” I asked.
He shoved the stuff in without folding it. I already knew this was why his shirts were so wrinkled. I didn’t try to break him of this habit before and, for obvious reasons, I didn’t mention it now.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“You’re leaving for three weeks,” I repeated as a statement this time.
His eyes came to me but only to skim through me before he looked down at the bed and I saw him pick up his passport.
His passport!
Then he repeated, “Yeah,” as he shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.
“You can’t be serious,” I whispered and he looked at me but this time he held my eyes.
“You might wanna take this opportunity to go home,” he suggested. “You do, let me know, just text me or leave a voicemail if I don’t pick up. You decide to stay awhile, when I’m done, I’ll go to you in Indiana.”
Then he went to the nightstand, picked up his watch and started to strap it on.
This wasn’t happening. He didn’t seriously think that I could leave him to have lunch with Luci, be gone a few hours, come back and find him packing, taking his passport and telling me he was going to be gone an indefinite amount of time with little to no communication, no understanding of where he was going and what he was going to be doing there and I’d be okay with that.
“Sam, honey, you need to stop a second and give me a little time,” I said quietly.
He looked from his watch to me. “Kia, baby, wish I could but I don’t have a little time. Wheels up in an hour and the drive is forty-five minutes. I gotta hit the road.”
“Wheels up?” I asked.
“The plane is taking off,” he answered.
I sucked in breath and tried to pull in patience with it.
Then I said carefully, “You’re telling me you’re getting on a plane in an hour, taking off to parts unknown to do deeds unexplained and, for me, this is all at the definition of a moment’s notice.”
He finished with his watch, eyes still locked on me and he confirmed, “That’s what I’m tellin’ you.”
“And you expect me to accept that,” I whispered.
He started to look impatient. “Kia, I told you, I don’t have time.”
He didn’t have time.
He didn’t have time.
My heart started hurting, like a lot.
“You need to make time.” I was still whispering when I gave my warning.
“I cannot do this now,” he muttered, definitely impatient, he moved then bent to his bag and zipped it up.