Chapter 28
Samantha stood lookingat herself in the full-length mirror. She was no supermodel, but this was the best she’d looked in a long time. She hoped they’d let her into The Loft wearing blue jeans. She’d tried on dress pants, but she just looked so much better in the jeans. She’d added every scrap of jewelry she’d owned to dress them up, and she’d transferred all her essentials to a snazzy clutch purse as well.
Her hair looked great.
Her makeup looked great.
Carol had given her the okay to do this, echoing a lot of what Cindy had said and then adding, “As long as you’re both pursuing the relationship as a three-stranded cord, you’ll be okay.”
Samantha had needed to search the Internet to figure out what she’d meant, but once she’d read the Ecclesiastes verse, she’d known that Carol was right. God was in this.
She was ready.
She was going to do this.
She had to leave the apartment.
She was scared to death.
“God, help me,” she whispered at the mirror. Then she picked up that fancy clutch and headed for the door. It was chilly out, but she didn’t want to wear a coat. She didn’t have one nice enough, and she didn’t want to cover up this blue blouse even for a second.
Her hands trembled as she clutched the wheel, and she silently prayed all the way to The Loft.Help me not be scared. Help me not be a fool. Give me your wisdom. Help me to say the right words. Help me not to cry. And most of all, please make your will happen. I obviously want to be with Brent, but not if you don’t want me to be with him.
The Loft wasn’t your typical Hartport establishment. Despite Hartport’s romantic name, it was really a working town more than a tourist trap. The tourists gathered both north and south of Hartport in Camden and Boothbay Harbor. If The Loft was in downtown Hartport, they might not get much business, as the whole place would smell like the lobster bait factory.
But The Loft was perched at the north edge of Hartport, offering ocean views that didn’t include said bait factory. She’d never been there, but she’d driven by it. It looked like a large house, but at some point someone had added a parking lot and turned the upstairs into a fine dining establishment.
She pulled her car into the parking lot and scanned it for his truck, but then realized he was probably driving a different truck by now.
Great. Another mystery truck.
She considered abandoning this whole crazy affair. Maybe it would be easier to just stay single. Then she remembered the way Brent smelled, the way his warm lips felt on hers, the way his strong arms felt when they squeezed her tight—and she couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.
She checked the time. She had one minute. She popped an Altoid into her mouth and started across the parking lot. She had to go slowly as she wasn’t used to wearing high heels, and the loose gravel wasn’t cooperating. But soon she was on her way up the stairs to the restaurant’s entrance.
A smiling hostess welcomed her and asked if she had a reservation.
It was difficult to speak, but she managed to say, “I’m supposed to meet someone. Not sure if he’s here yet.”
“Of course. Are you Sammy?”
And then she knew for sure, and happiness flooded through her with such force it almost knocked her over. “Yes. I’m Sammy.”
“Right this way.”
Her heart pounding, Samantha followed her into the dining room, which was larger than she’d expected. She saw him right away, and the sight of him took her breath away. Except for pictures, she hadn’t laid eyes on him in more than a year.
When he saw her, he popped up out of his chair.
He looked more handsome than he ever had in a button up shirt and what looked like brand-new jeans. Only her nerves kept her from launching herself into his arms.
“Hi,” he said, and she could tell he was nervous, which made her less nervous.
“Hi, yourself.”
“You look ... amazing.”
“Thank you. So do you.”