Chapter Thirty Six

Sammy was still unsure of what was going on in Joel's head; his mood seemed to be volatile, changing at the drop of a hat. But the meal he had prepared was delicious, and the dry yet smooth Prosecco she'd opened cut through the rich pasta sauce perfectly.

"You are a great chef," she finally broke the silence, smiling at him.

He glanced up and he was blushing, that made her smile, "no way. I can pull a few ingredients into some sort of meal, that's it at most."

She laughed, "did you ever have Marcus cook you a meal? Though I use the word cook very loosely. He burned spaghetti...have you ever heard of that?"

She paused for a moment, wondering whether he would flinch at the mention of Marcus, he dropped his head for a moment, and she could see his throat move as he swallowed deeply.

"He couldn't make a cup of coffee when we were in school." As he spoke he lifted his head and smiled. "For a man who was so on top of everything in his life, his inability to boil an egg really didn't make sense. But he almost had a dyslexia when it came to the kitchen."

Sammy laughed, "that is EXACTLY what he was like." It was nice, to talk about Marcus without feeling pain, without feeling guilt or loss. "This is what I wanted Joel, to talk about him, to share memories with you...without it changing what we have."

He sighed, "we don't have anything."

Sammy studied him for a moment, "don't we?"

Shrugging he turned back to his meal and they ate in silence.

When their plates were empty Sammy gathered them up and took them to load into the dishwasher, then with her flute of the remaining Prosecco between her finger tips she turned, leaning against the worktop.

"You mean that?" When he looked at her questioningly she added, "that there's nothing between us? Nothing to work on?"

He shrugged again and it made her angry, "bloody hell Joel! Is that it? Is that all that you've got?"

"What do you want from me?"

Laughing she leaned across the table, "you know what I want, and it's the same as you want. But I am the only one willing to acknowledge it." As she spoke she felt empowered, she'd never been this direct when it came to dating, or lovers, but so much had happened, she'd lost so much...she didn't want to waste and more time.

"Sammy..."

She held a hand to silence him, "I am not about to beg for you to give us a chance, I know this isn't easy...but I'm also not going to let it go. So be prepared."

His eyes wide he stared at her, "what?"

Shrugging she reached for her glass of wine, "just that. At some point you will talk about this. I've let Marcus go...I've got past him. Which I admit wasn't easy. You have to too."

Joel watched her walk out of the room, and it wasn't until he heard her feet on the stairs that he released the breath he was holding, and then he started to shake...uncontrollably. He had honestly thought that she didn't feel that way about him. Her stark confession had thrown everything out of the water. She wanted to sample what was between them, to push things.

How did he feel?

The spark when he looked at her had always been there. It was unremitting, as strong as it ever had been. Slumping back in the chair he let his head hang back and closed his eyes. The thought of reliving that kiss, of touching her, of tasting her skin led to a jolt of tension hitting him in the groin like a bullet. He had to take an audible gasp of air, pulling his head back up he opened his eyes, it was never that easy. He wanted to be there for Sammy and Eleanor. He wanted to be the one who protected them, who did things for them. That was his priority.

Closing his eyes again he was transported back to Greece five years earlier. Marcus laughing beside him as he watched Sammy enter the lounge on the ferry.

"I saw her first." He elbowed him in the ribs in a brotherly gesture. "What do you reckon? Nine out of ten?"

She was clearly eleven, he'd even say fifteen if it was possible to score that may out of ten. Her full auburn hair wasn't as vibrant in the lounge of the ferry as it had been at the height of the day previously, the sun beating down on her almost setting it alight, and her cotton strappy vest didn't coat her curves the way that her bathing suit had either, but his memories of her stood quayside looking out to sea had a huge effect on his body, suddenly the conversation with his friend was a bit more awkward.

As Marcus stood, planning his move, he turned and glanced at Joel, "she's H.O.T. "Then he fake fanned himself as he crossed the room to her.

In typical Joel fashion he hadn't stood up to Marcus, hadn't staked a claim, and instead he'd had to get to know the beautiful woman who no one had compared to since in an overly detailed way as she fell in love and then married his best friend.

Taking a tumbler from the kitchen cupboard, he reached for the bottle of whisky they'd bought earlier and tipped a couple of fingers worth of the amber liquid into it. It burned his throat as took a glug from the glass, but it didn't change anything. He was still being swamped by the pounding in his head and the swirling nausea in his stomach.

From his seat in the kitchen he could see the picture of Marcus and Sammy that sat almost mockingly in the lounge. Everywhere he looked he could see him, smiling...gloating. He dropped his eyes and shook his head, first and foremost Sammy was his wife, he had no right to think derogatorily about this friend. He had to get over his jealousy, his animosity. But as he looked at those smiling faces, he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with those pictures always watching over him. No matter what he thought, what he wanted, Sammy and Ellie would always be Marcus's family, never his.

Taking the glass he drained it in one long, bitter mouthful, then reaching for the bottle, he poured another two fingers into the glass.

Sammy watched Eleanor's chest rise and fall with sleep. It was so soothing, so relaxing and rewarding. But she couldn't do it forever, watch her. Not when she'd stormed out on Joel. She had to go back, she had to talk to him and she had to make him confront this.

Kissing her fingertips, she pressed them to Eleanor's cheek, then closed the door behind her.

Joel was still in the kitchen, a whisky bottle in front of him, his head slumped, forehead resting on his crossed arms. Pulling out a chair she lowered herself to sit opposite him, then snatched at his glass and poured herself a slug of whisky when she downed with a grimace.

"You aren't going to talk to me?"

There was no answer, so she reached across the table and placed a hand over his elbow, "please?"

Shrugging her hand off, he slowly lifted his head and her heart melted at the expression on his face.

"I can't do this."

"Can't or won't?"

He ran a hand over his face for a moment, "this isn't right, I wondered if I could do this, I thought maybe I could..."

"It's been a long time; we both deserve to move on...Clifford agrees."

He shook his head, "everywhere I look there are reminders of him, photos, gifts, Eleanor's bloody eyes. He's everywhere."

"He was my husband, he's her father."

Joel pushed his chair back, "and he was MY best friend. I'm bloody aware of it all. Look he dictated my life when he was alive, and he's still doing it from beyond the grave." Standing he stepped away from the table putting distance between them.

She recoiled at that, "I'm not removing everything from the house, every memory of him."

He rolled his eyes, "and I don't expect you to. This is why this can't work! Don't you get it? We can't ignore what he was, we can't pretend that you aren't the wife of my best friend, and we can't act as if this isn't ridiculously awkward."

She shook her head in wonder, "so what, we go our separate ways and pretend we've not shared an amazing kiss?"

That made him blush and he stuttered. Sensing the moment of weakness, she stood and followed him as he backed further away from the table.

"Don't you like me?"

He looked to the ceiling for a moment and took several deep breaths, then he lowered his eyes to her again, "like you? Ha ha. Daniel was right, I have ALWAYS liked you...but that's not what this is about."

He'd always liked her. She felt as though she wanted to cry, with relief...then punch him for his stubbornness. "It's exactly what this is all about."

"I can't step into his shoes Sammy."

She shook her head, "and I don't want a replacement Marcus. But I think I'd like to try a Joel, I'm hoping to get the chance to."

She could see him gulp, the awkwardness overwhelming him, "I want to get past this...but I can't."

Craning onto her tiptoes, she planted her lips on his, in the hope that actions spoke louder than words. Sliding both hands over his chest to run around his neck, she was glad of the support as his arms reciprocated, wrapping around her...because the kiss was off the scale, initially she kissed him, sucked at his bottom lip, ran her mouth over his ravenously, but as he parted his lips to accept her tongue, he groaned against her mouth and tipped her backwards slightly. Then he overpowered her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mashing his lips as aggressively as she'd been with his. It was electric, her whole body wanted to melt into his, and she was literally hanging on to him, as though her life depended on it.

When the furious joining of lips eased a little to nips and nibbles, he was the one who lifted his head from hers, but as Sammy looked up into his eyes she wanted to kiss him all over again. His eyes sparkled, literally, for a moment he looked at her with such naked passion, hunger that she wanted to rip his clothes off.

But suddenly those barriers flew back up and he stepped her away from him with both hands on her upper arms holding her away from him.

"You felt that too Joel. I KNOW you did."

As he made a small shaking movement with his head, she knew she could either run away and cry, or she could fight. She was sick of letting life dictate to her, so she took the latter option.

"You can pretend Joel Edwards, but I guarantee that if I kissed you again we'd be flat on this floor getting it on within seconds." She blushed as she said the words as it was so out of character, but she wasn't ready to run away. "And you're here for what five more days?"

She didn't say anymore, but then she didn't need to. He was breathless, eyes wide, lips parted, she was right, if she kissed him once more they'd ignite like kindling. But it had to be his decision; he had to make the next move...she just had to coax that out of him.

As she hit the stairs, she sprinted up to her bedroom then threw herself on her bed face down, her heart pounding. Once her breath was better controlled, she took her phone from her pocket and called Corinne. She needed some encouragement, assurance that she was doing the right thing, as well as advice, because she was SO out of practice. And who better than her best friend to help her out.