Me: Really? You’re just gonna disappear now?
He didn’t respond for three full unnerving hours. But, when he finally did, a photo of two guitar bookshelves leaning against his bedroom wall preceded it. They appeared to be generic acoustics—definitely not my Gibsons.
Sam: I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m an asshole. It’s just hard when your woman has Gibson taste and a thrift store man. I made these for you last week. I’ll start on your guitars tonight.
Sam: P.S. I’m really sorry about the princess thing.
Sam: P.P.S. I’m a dick.
Sam: P.P.P.S. Here’s a picture of my cock to make up for it.
Attached was a photo of a chicken.
Sam: P.P.P.P.S. I named him Curtis.
Sam: P.P.P.P.P.S. I can’t wait for you to meet him.
I didn’t respond for half an hour—because I was sobbing. Of course I felt bad for having made him feel like he was my thrift store man, but that wasn’t why I was crying.
He’d already made me bookshelves.
And implied that I was his woman. A fact I knew but had never actually been verified.
And he’d made me laugh when I should’ve still been pissed.
But, most of all, I was crying because I knew that that was the exact moment I’d fallen in love with Sam Rivers.
There was no going back now—not that I wanted to.
I also knew I couldn’t make it two more weeks without him.
Me: Come see me.
Sam: Tell me when and where.
Me: Tomorrow. It’s family day and Henry is supposed to fly up, but I really need to see you.
Sam: Then I’ll be there, Levee.
I squealed like a teenager as my heart exploded in my chest.
He’s coming.
Sam: I’ll see if I can find someone to watch Curtis.
I burst into laughter with tears still sliding down my cheeks.
Yeah, I’m absolutely and hopelessly lost in this man.
I WAS AT the airport an hour after Levee had asked me to come see her. Before that moment, I hadn’t even known visiting her was an option or I probably would have taken up residence in Maine weeks ago. The trip was long, and I flew standby the whole way, but finally, at seven the next morning, after having slept in the Philly Airport, I was back in the same state as my Designer Shoes. I grabbed my rental car and headed directly to the address she had texted me the night before.
At nine o’clock on the dot, I marched through the doors and up to the receptionist desk.
“Hi. I’m Sam Rivers. I’m here to see—”
The thin blonde sitting behind the desk immediately cut me off. “For privacy, we don’t use guests’ names.”
“Oh, right,” I said awkwardly, trying to figure out how to explain to her why I was there without using Levee’s name. “Well, my name is Sam—”
“Rivers. Yes, I got that. Please allow me a minute to look you up.” She smiled, but it came off as more of a grimace.
Well, isn’t she a bitchy ray of sunshine.
I anxiously tapped the toe of my boot as I imagined Levee sitting somewhere nearby. She was probably chewing her manicured thumbnail into submission. I dropped my gaze to my shoes in an attempt to cover the shit-eating grin I was hopeless to hide.
A deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “Please come with us, sir.”
Two men in dark suits, who might as well have stepped out of the movie Men in Black, suddenly appeared at my side.
I nodded with a smile, my stomach bubbling with excitement as I followed them through a set of double doors.
She’s so close.
Only she wasn’t close at all.
They led me to a set of glass doors that opened to the back parking lot.
“Uhh…” I mumbled when Agent K shoved it wide.
“You’re not permitted on the premises, Mr. Rivers. If you return, the local authorities will be notified immediately. This is your first and only warning.”
“I’m sorry. There must be confusion.” I lowered my voice to a whisper as I said, “Levee Williams is expecting me.”