“One, I love you,” he replied. “Two, I can’t stand the idea of leaving again, of you not coming back to this cottage, without you knowing how much I love you.” He took a shaky breath, then knelt on one knee, taking my hands in his. Three”—he looked up at me, his blue eyes serious and wide and hopeful and scared—“I want you to marry me.”
My heart exploded in a burst of happiness, molten pleasure seeping into my bloodstream. And just as fast, I remembered what I’d done and who I’d done it with, and the color drained from my face.
Sam rushed to go on. “Not today. Or this year. Not until you’re thirty, if that’s what you want. But marry me.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans and held out a gold ring with a circle of small diamonds surrounding a center stone. It was beautiful, and it made me feel violently ill.
“My mom gave me this. It was her mom’s ring,” he said. “You’re my best friend, Percy. Please be my family.”
I stood in silent shock for five long seconds, my mind racing. How could I tell him about Charlie now? When he was down on one knee, holding his grandmother’s ring? But how could I accept without telling him? I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Not when he thought I was good enough to marry. There was only one option.
I knelt down in front of him, hating myself for what I was about to do. What I had to do.
“Sam,” I said, closing his hand over the ring and biting back tears. “I can’t.” He blinked, then opened his mouth and closed it again, then opened it, but still nothing came out.
“We’re too young. You know that,” I whispered. It was a lie. I wanted to say yes to him and screw you to anyone who questioned us. I wanted Sam forever.
“I know I said that before, but I was wrong,” he replied. “Not many people meet the person they’re meant to be with when they’re thirteen. But we did. You know we did. I want you now. And I want you forever. I think about it all the time. I think about traveling. And getting jobs. And having a family. And you’re always there with me. You have to be there with me,” he said, his voice cracking and his eyes moving over my face for a sign that I’d changed my mind.
“You might not always feel that way, Sam,” I said. “You’ve pushed me away before. You kept the course from me, and then I spent most of the summer wondering why I barely heard from you. And then that email . . . I can’t trust that you’ll love me forever when I don’t even know if you’ll love me next month.” The words tasted like bile, and he jerked his head back like I’d hit him. “I think we should take a break for a while,” I said softly enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear the agony in my voice.
“You don’t really want that, do you?” He croaked out the words, his eyes glassy. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.
“Just for a while,” I repeated, holding back tears.
He studied my face like he was missing something. “Swear on it.” He said it as though he was issuing a challenge, as if he didn’t quite believe me.
I hesitated, and then I wrapped my index finger around his bracelet and tugged.
“I swear.”
17
Now
“I slept with Charlie,” I say to Sam, barely registering that he’s just told me he loves me.
He’s silent.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him, tears already streaming down my face. I say it over and over. And still he says nothing. We’re facing each other on the floor. He’s looking over my shoulder, his eyes dull and unfocused, his fingers frozen on my arm.
“Sam?” He doesn’t move. “It was a mistake,” I tell him, my voice shaking. “A huge mistake. I loved you more than anything, and then you left. And then you wrote that letter, and I thought you were done with me. I know that’s no excuse.” The words spill out in a sopping mess. “And that’s why . . . why I broke us. I loved you, Sam. I did. So much. But I wasn’t good enough for you. I’m still not . . .” I trail off because Sam is opening and closing his mouth, like he’s trying to say something, but nothing comes out.
“I’d do anything to take it back, to make it better,” I say. “Tell me what to do.” He looks at me, blinking in shutter-fast bursts. He shakes his head.
“Sam, please say something, anything,” I plead, my throat dry. His eyes narrow and his cheeks darken. His jaw is moving back and forth, like he’s grinding his teeth.