‘Yes?’
‘Keep writing, OK?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Her lips were still curled up with good humour when she gently placed the phone back in its cradle, and pulled her card from the slot. She’d forgotten how much she missed talking with her sisters. Maybe that was one thing to look forward to when she got back to London.
She couldn’t think of much else left for her there.
Later that evening she was sitting in front of the desktop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she finished the second act. Every now and then she glanced over at the sofa where Sam had been so many nights that week. It was empty now.
A noise from the kitchen made her look up. She heard a cupboard slam and then the sound of running water. She stood up and walked across the library. The need to see him was overwhelming.
‘Hey.’ He saw her before she even walked into the kitchen. ‘I was just getting a glass of water to take up to bed.’
‘Are you avoiding me?’ she asked him.
‘Avoiding you?’ His brows knitted together. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘I haven’t seen you all day. Every time I looked for you, you were gone.’
‘Are you stalking me?’ He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
‘I miss you,’ she said softly. ‘Did I say something wrong yesterday? Was it talking about Foster that made you angry?’
‘I’m not angry.’ Sam’s voice was low. ‘What makes you think I’m angry?’
‘Because the last time I made you angry you avoided me for days.’ She looked up at him through her lashes. ‘It’s getting to be a habit.’
His smile disappeared. ‘You didn’t make me angry,’ he said. ‘I just wasn’t feeling well today. I took myself off for a walk, that’s all.’ He stepped towards her, reaching out to touch her face. The sensation of his fingers against her skin made her gasp. ‘I’m not avoiding you, Cesca.’
A mouthful of air escaped from her lips. He took another step closer, until there were only inches between them. Her whole body was rigid at his proximity.
She inclined her head to look at him. Two small vertical lines formed between his brows. He licked his lips, still staring at her.
‘Then what are you doing?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t know,’ he whispered, more to himself than her. ‘I’ve no fucking idea at all.’
He reached his other hand out, cupping her cheek with his curled palm. She stood as still as a statue, waiting to see what he would do. Her breath caught in her throat as she willed him to dip his head down, press his warm lips against hers. She could almost taste the sweetness of his kiss.
But he didn’t move at all. Just stared at her with those conflicted eyes, as though he was looking for all the answers she didn’t have. For half a minute she stood there, gazing straight back at him, unwilling to step back, but unable to move forward.
‘Sam?’ she finally said
, her voice tentative.
He stepped back as though she’d slapped him, dropping his hands from her face. His arms hung limply by his side as he took another step away from her. ‘Yes?’ His voice was terse.
She blinked rapidly.
‘Are you . . . did you . . . ’ Her words tangled on her tongue. ‘Are you OK?’
He laughed, though it sounded a little off. ‘I’m fine.’
A wave of frustration rushed over her. ‘You don’t look fine.’
‘How do I look?’ he asked.
As if you were about to kiss me.