Finding Sam (Featured)

Chapter 22 - Too Good To Be True

Erik was still asleep when I awoke. He was lying on his stomach with the comforter bunched around his hips, his long legs peeking from underneath the covers. A sliver of sunlight streamed through a tiny gap between the vertical blinds, and I could hear the sounds of people moving about on the Strand.

I pushed a lock of hair from his temple and smiled. The world outside our window was wide awake and here we were, spent from a night of making love. It was so unlike the awkward gropings of my past, almost every memory clouded by cheap alcohol and sometimes, fear.

This time, I came into this with a mind that was completely aware of what I was doing, with no excuses to hide just how far I'd fallen for Erik. I'd laid my body and soul bare to him last night, and as I watched him sleep, I felt the ache in my chest grow, like a dark stain spreading. It was that fear of losing him - and it was already taking hold.

I rolled away from Erik as carefully as I could, not wanting to wake him. I needed to get out of bed and join the land of the living, I told myself, where heartbreak awaited in every corner. I just needed to come down from the clouds, pinch myself and pray this wasn't all a dream.

As I sat up on the edge of the bed. Erik's bedside clock glowed 8:45 a.m. as sunlight touched his hair, casting a reddish glow.

I found my workout clothes in the dryer, and I put them on though I couldn't find my shirt. So I slipped Erik's shirt back on instead and went about brewing coffee in the kitchen. Though Erik had said something about doing something together the next morning, and getting an early start, I didn't wake him. Sleeping in would do wonders for him while I could start a new painting in the studio, I thought. I opened the doors to the deck to let the ocean breeze in and watched the Strand start to fill up with people. In the distance, I could see tents being set up and realized that there was a volleyball tournament going on.

From the kitchen, I heard Erik's phone ring a few times before it went to voicemail. Then the coffee maker beeped, signaling the end of the brew cycle.

I was taking the first sip of my coffee when I heard the sound of roller blades rolling against the hardwood floors. Serena rolled past me, then backed up, and turned to face me from the opposite end of the kitchen island.

"Who the hell are you? And where's Erik?" 

Seeing Serena in person took me by surprise. Hearing her talk to me that way annoyed the hell out of me. "I'm Sam," I said, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. "And Erik's still in bed. I just might have tired him last night. And this morning."

She stared at me, her eyes widening. "You must be Samantha, that artist he's been trying to find."

"Well, he found me."

"He sure did. I hope you had a great time fucking him, Samantha. Because you're just one of his rebound girls." She must have seen the look on my face, the confidence that fell from my face.

"You really think he's going to stick with you?" She continued. "Erik and I have been together for eight years, honey. That's more than most people even stay married. Which means, when he's done fucking your ass, he comes right back to me. You should have asked all the other girls before you decided to go for him."

"Erik's not like that," I said. I could feel my jaw tighten, and my neck muscles grow tense. I felt that pain in my chest grow, like that stain I dreaded would come.

Serena chuckled. "Tell yourself that when he stops calling you, honey."

"My name isn't honey," I said.

"I can call you whatever I damn well, please. Honey," Serena said, reaching down to unbuckle her rollerblades. "You might as well get on home because he's going to be busy from here on."