Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chloe

“Hi, Lauren,” I say, offering a polite smile, not that I owe her one.

“Wow, I’m so surprised to see you,” Lauren goes on. She’s looking at Sam, working hard to ignore the fact that I was just wrapped in his arms. “What are you doing back here?”

“Chloe and I came to visit my family,” Sam says and rests his hand on the curve of my waist. He didn’t seem to have the slightest idea who Lauren was when we ran into her several weeks ago, back when I was trying my best to prove to myself and the world that Sam Harris was nothing more than an asshole…a walking heartbreak…nothing more than a bad idea.

“Oh, uh, how sweet.” Lauren’s eyes dart to me for half a second. “I’m surprised to see you back here…with her.”

“Chloe’s my girlfriend,” Sam says. “I don’t know why that’s surprising.”

Lauren opens her mouth only to snap it shut. “Well, good for you two.” She forces a fake smile and looks at Sam, doing her best to avoid me. “Tell your brother—the vet—I said hi then. That is him, isn’t it?”

Sam and I both turn, spotting Mr. and Mrs. Harris sitting with Mason and Jacob at a table near the windows. They only have drinks on the table and must have just sat down.

“Hah,” Sam says. “Now we know why they weren’t home.”

“Should we walk over like everything is normal?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Sam smiles and takes my hand, leading me over to his family. The table only seats four, and Sam effortlessly grabs a chair on his way over and adds it to the table.

“Hey, guys. Did you order yet? I’m starving.”

Everyone looks up, stunned for a split second, and then Mrs. Harris jumps out of her seat.

“Sam!” She throws out her arms and goes to hug him and then stops, noticing me. “And Chloe!” She pushes Sam aside and pulls me into a big embrace. “Oh my goodness! What—when—what are you doing here?”

“We thought we’d come into town for the weekend,” Sam tells her. Mrs. Harris lets me go and hugs her oldest son. “We actually stopped by the house, but you weren't there.”

“Did you just get into town?” Mr. Harris asks.

“We got in late last night,” Sam tells him. “We stayed at Chloe’s dad’s house.”

“Sit down, join us!” Mrs. Harris says and waves her hand at Mason. “Get up. Give Chloe your seat.”

“I can get a chair,” I say, and Mason rolls his eyes.

“I was the golden child for a whole two minutes, asshole,” he grumbles to Sam.

“Really?” Jacob mutters under his breath.

“You’re just jealous you’re never special,” Mason says without missing a beat. “You’re always here. Mom doesn’t get excited when she sees you.”

“Yes, I do!” Mrs. Harris exclaims. “I’m always excited to see any of my children. And you all know Rory is the golden child.”

Mr. Harris laughs, and I shake my head. “I missed you guys,” I say as Sam gets another chair from a nearby table for me. Mrs. Harris hugs me once more and sits back down, big smile on her face.

“What a nice surprise! I wasn’t expecting to see you, Sam, and you brought our Chloe with!”

“I’m glad me coming in this weekend was just the consolation prize,” Mason huffs, and I smile again. He always gave Rory a hard time for being dramatic and emotional—dramotional, as he used to say—but he’s just as dramatic as the best of them.

“Oh, hush,” Mrs. Harris says with a shake of her head. “All my boys are home now, and having Chloe is an added bonus. Now if only Rory and Dean were here with my sweet grandbaby.”

“How long are you in town?” Mr. Harris asks.

“Only until tomorrow,” Sam says. “I have to go back to work.”

“Are you staying?” Mrs. Harris asks me hopefully.

“Why would Chloe stay here when Sam goes back to Chicago?” Jacob asks, picking up his coffee. “I mean, I wouldn't blame her. I’d be sick of him too.”

“And you think she’d rather stay here and hang around you?” Sam counters.

“We could talk about horses,” Jacob quips.

“I would like that,” I say with a nod and then look at Sam. “I do like to talk about Spartan.”

“See?” Jacob says pointedly, trying not to laugh. “How’s the leg injury?”

“So much better He got cleared for light work and is going back into training soon.”

“Yeah, that’s enough horse talk,” Sam teases, putting his arm around me. The waitress comes to the table to take our orders and is surprised to see two extra people at the table. She brings another table so we’re not so crowded together, and we put in our order.

“I take it things are good between you two,” Mrs. Harris says to me as Sam talks to his brothers, who are giving him shit for liking the Chicago Bears now that he lives in the city.

“They are,” I say, unable to keep from smiling.

“I told this to Sam, and I don’t know if he told you, but it makes me so happy to see you two together. I could tell there were several times one of you or the other had feelings, but I never wanted to meddle. But I always hoped you two would find your way back to each other eventually.”

“Things have a way of working out, I suppose.”

“They certainly do. And I don’t want to overstep, but you know me and you’re already family to me…”

I smile, waiting for Mrs. Harris to go on. It’s endearing how she thinks she doesn’t meddle or overstep.

“And I know you two only officially started dating a few weeks ago, but I can already see us all together at holidays, and maybe sometime in the not-too-distant future—” She shrugs as she talks, trying to make me really believe this is all casual talk. “—there would be another Harris baby in the family.”

“What?” Sam snaps his head around, blue eyes wide.

“Oh, calm down,” his mother says, dismissing him with a hand wave the same way she did to Mason. “I was just talking about the possibilities of the future.”

“Stop putting the cart before the horse, dear,” Mr. Harris says gently.

“Fine,” she sighs. “But I know we all agree that Sam and Chloe would make gorgeous babies.”

“Gross,” Mason says with a shudder. “That is not what you should be thinking about, Mom.”

Mrs. Harris just shakes her head at Mason, and Jacob watches, amused by his younger brother. I turn to Sam, ready to confess that I might have used one of those creepy programs that morphed our photos together back when I was hopelessly in love with him as a teen, but snap my mouth shut as soon as I see his face.

He looks stressed, like the thought of having a child is the last thing he wants. It takes me aback, not because I expect us to get married and have babies soon or anything, but because I assumed it was in the cards for Sam, like it was for me.

Fall in love, get married, have at last one kid.

I’d have to work it around my work schedule, and I’d cut back on traveling for book signings for the first few years, of course, but I always saw it happening.

Happening with Sam, of course.

“What are your plans the rest of the day?” Mason asks. “Ian is still in town. I didn’t get to see him last time I was here.”

“You’re still friends with him?” I ask, a little surprised. Ian was one of Mason’s friends in middle and high school. They were both troublemakers, but unlike Mason—who grew up and grew out of it—Ian didn’t. I only know because Ian did some custom woodwork for Dad’s house.

“Shocking, right?” Jacob gives Mason a look. “I thought it would be a conflict of interest with you needing to uphold the law.”

“We’re just going to get a couple of beers later.” Mason rolls his eyes.

“I thought you were going to meet Lennon’s friend,” Mrs. Harris says.

“I don’t need my cousin setting me up on a date, Mom,” Mason deadpans. “I’m only in town for a few days and can find someone that I haven’t—” he looks around the café “—gone out with yet.”

“You sure about that?” Jacob heckles. “You’ve made your rounds through all of Silver Ridge. Twice.”

“What? Worried I’m going to close in on your territory?” Mason quips. “Don’t worry, I like them with two legs, not four.”

Jacob swats Mason on the back of the head.

“I see why you’re the golden child,” I whisper-talk to Sam, and we all laugh. Until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t spoken to any of the Harris family in years. It feels so natural to be with Sam, and it feels like I picked up where I left off with the rest of his family too.

“Until you decide what to do tonight,” Mr. Harris starts, ignoring Mason saying who to do under his breath, “come to the house and visit.”

“I’d like that.” I smile at Sam.

Sam’s hand lands on my thigh. “Then we’ll go.”

*

The rain picked up, bringing a chill with it. I’m feeling much better, but the cold air made my chest hurt a bit. I’m on the couch in the Harrises’ family room, snuggled up next to Sam. We’re watching a murder documentary that Mason turned on, waiting for Jacob to get back from a farm call before we decide on what to do for the rest of the afternoon.

With the storm picking up, our options are feeling rather limited.

“Whoa, sorry to break up the party,” Jacob quips when he gets back about an hour later.

“There’s nothing to do,” Mason says back, eyes still on the TV. “It’s raining and this town isn’t exactly hopping.”

“I just picked up a bunch of puzzles,” Mrs. Harris tells us, looking up from her sewing table. What would have traditionally been an office has been converted into her sewing room, with double French doors that open into the front foyer and give a view into the living room.

“Puzzles? Sounds so fun.” Jacob sits on an armchair next to us.

“We could make it a competition,” Mason suggests, leaning forward.

Sam turns, eyebrow raised. “How the hell do you make putting a puzzle together competitive?”

“You can make anything competitive when you drink,” Mason shoots back.

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Mason thinks for a second. “Everyone starts by taking a shot. Then we set a timer for fifteen minutes. Whichever team has made the least amount of progress has to take another shot. And we’ll repeat every fifteen minutes.”

Amused, I look at Sam, who’s staring at his youngest brother incredulously.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’ve made it this far in life,” he says, and Mason laughs.

“You’re just afraid you’re going to lose. Plus, we all know you can’t hold your liquor.”

“The last time I threw up after drinking too much was in high school,” Sam rounds.

“You drank in high school?” Mrs. Harris says, leaning over her table to get a better look in the living room.

“No,” all three boys answer together, and I laugh.

“I remember that differently,” I say slowly, flashing an innocent smile. “In fact, I specifically remember being mad at you for not inviting me to the party you threw the weekend your parents were out of town for someone’s wedding.”

“What?” Mrs. Harris puts down her needle and thread.

“That was a good party,” Mason goes on, smirk on his face. “Sam got plastered, made out with Steffy Miller, and called her by your name.”

“Me?” I echo, way too entertained by this.

“Oh, I remember now,” Jacob continues the story, laughing at Sam. “She got mad, slapped you, and then you puked all over her shoes.”

“Not my finest moment,” Sam says with impressive composure. “And I’m glad I have no memory of that.”

“It’s almost sweet,” I tell him, looking up into his blue eyes. “You were obsessed with me back then.”

“I was.” He puts his arm around my waist. “I wanted to invite you to the party, you know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was too attracted to you.”

“That makes sense,” Mrs. Harris huffs, going back to her sewing. “Your father and I only went to one out-of-town wedding without you kids, and you boys were supposed to be looking after your sister! Where was Rory when all of this was going on?”

“We bribed her to stay in her room and not tell you,” Mason says casually. “What did we bribe her with? I don’t remember.”

“I drove her to some bookstore an hour away to get a fantasy book singed by the author,” Sam says. “And Jacob had to take her to a movie, and you…you were supposed to play Dungeons and Dragons with her, but you never did, did you, you asshole?”

Mason shrugs. “I have suffered through that game a time or two.”

“Hey,” I interject. “It’s a fun game.”

“You’re the one who got her into it,” Mason says, slowly shaking his head. “I have you to blame for Rory making me be a girl in the last game, who wasn’t even allowed to play with my own tits.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “I agree with Sam. I do wonder how you’ve made it this far in life.”

Sam and Jacob laugh and thunder rumbles overhead. This storm just won’t end, but there’s something so peaceful about the constant low rumbling of the thunder and the steady pitter patter of the rain on the trees.

“Should I get the puzzles?” Jacob asks.

Sam looks at me and I nod. “Why not?” he says.

“And I’ll get the tequila,” Mason notes.

“I can’t do tequila shots,” I say with a quiver. “Not anymore. Give me a margarita and I’m fine, but straight tequila—nope. Get the whiskey instead.”

Mason laughs. “What happened to make you not like tequila?”

“A book signing in Mexico three years ago. We were all doing shots and I went from I don’t feel anything to not remembering the rest of the night.” I look at Sam. “But I didn’t throw up. I wanted to in the morning, but my iron stomach held.”

“Showoff,” Sam says with a grin.

“I’ll get you whiskey, then,” Mason tells me.

“Not the peanut butter one,” I request, still grossed out by it.

“Want pumpkin spice instead?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not a basic bitch. I don’t do pumpkin spice. Though I need to add that there is nothing wrong with being basic. Just be nice and do what makes you happy.” I turn to Sam and wiggle my eyebrows. “And you make me happy.”

He has that same faraway look in his eyes, hesitating a moment before he smiles and leans in to kiss me. The look is gone when he pulls away, hand resting on my thigh, but I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something, and I’m terrified to find out what it is.