Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) (36 page)

Lydia nodded against his cheek, trying to commit to memory how he felt holding her, how he felt against her. Not just because she didn’t want the weekend to end, not just because she knew she actually would miss him; but just in case he was lying after all, didn’t mean a word he’d said, and she’d never see him again. She just wanted to remember how good that moment felt, above all else. She’d have that to hold on to.

She basked in that moment—the beauty of it, the closeness, sweetness, intimacy, and romance of it—and made herself not think about what might happen once they separated. This moment was pure, it was complete satisfaction and bliss, and she didn’t know how many more moments like it she’d get in her life. She closed her eyes and relished it.

Sam kissed her again, ran his hands down her back, and she let herself willingly slip under the waves of lightness and wonder and drown in them. She would worry later about the consequences of letting her guard slide briefly. Right now, this felt too damn good. She locked her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the emotion in her heart.

A soft moan rose from his throat and he kissed her once more before he pulled away. “You have to stop now.” He grinned. “Because God knows I wish we didn't have to.”

She only smiled at him. She reached up to touch his cheek; he held her hand there, closed his eyes, and nuzzled her palm.

Her black Honda CR-V drove up to where they stood. The valet hopped out, opened the trunk, and gently placed Lydia’s suitcase inside before slamming it shut. Sam shook his hand, thanked him, and discreetly gave him a few dollars before the valet left them alone.

Sam looked down at her. His deep voice was earnest as he told her, “This was one of the best weekends I’ve ever had. Honestly, Lydia. I'll never forget it.”

“Me too,” she admitted, her eyes shyly flitting down to his chest. “On all of it.”

“You’re a wonderful woman. I’m so glad we met.” He leaned down and softly kissed her mouth with great tenderness. He pulled back to stare at her features, memorizing them again, one last time. “Don’t forget. Date in New York, on November seventh.”

“Don't forget? You’re kidding, right?” she scoffed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

“Okay. And, until then, we have email, and texting, and cell phones—all the best technology the 21
st
century has to offer.”

“Of course,” she said. “Hope your trip back to Chicago is quiet and uneventful.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Your trip too. Drive home safely, okay?”

She hushed him with one last, deliciously lingering kiss. “Bye.”

His dark eyes twinkled at her, and the corner of his mouth turned up in his endearing crooked half smile. “Bye.”

He released her, and she walked around to the driver’s side and got in. The car was already running, the valet had left the key in the ignition. She glanced out the window at Sam; he had taken a few steps back and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He grinned and winked at her. She smiled back and slowly drove away from him, away from the hotel, heading down the elongated driveway, back towards the highway that would lead to the interstate.

Her mind was blank, her insides were calm, and she felt warm, fuzzy, and oddly content. If Sam never called her, never emailed her… if she had to deal with the disappointment of that later, she would. But at this moment, with the sun lowering slowly over the glorious autumn scenery that whooshed past her windows, Lydia chose to hold on to something rare, glittering, and priceless: hope. Mixed with cautious optimism, but she was hopeful. It was something she hadn’t felt, hadn’t allowed herself to feel, in years. She basked in its uplifting warmth.

Once she got to Matt’s apartment, got her son back, and got back to reality, she would put the special feelings in an invisible jar and seal them up, deep inside, where they couldn’t do much damage until Sam proved himself one way or the other. But in the two hours it would take to drive back to Long Island, enjoying her solitude, she would allow herself to just feel good.

She felt restored on so many levels. There had been the restoration and re-cementing of her relationships with her dear college friends whom she hadn’t seen in way too long— who had made her laugh and dance and tell the truth. There had been restoration of her old belief that marriage could be a beautiful thing, after watching Melanie and Ryan glow at their magnificent wedding. There had been the unexpected and shocking restoration of her libido and sex life, which had been woefully nonexistent for so long. There had been the restoration of her ego and self-esteem, which had gotten a tremendous and desperately needed boost from her friends' support and Sam’s attentions.

And, most importantly, there had been the restoration of something positive inside of her. The feeling that she could enjoy herself, let go a little bit, and let herself possibly—just maybe—embrace new and unforeseen possibilities without fear. That she could hope for good things.

She’d turned a corner. She felt empowered. It was incredibly galvanizing, and she couldn't stop smiling.

Lydia rolled down her window halfway to let the cool autumn breeze refresh her, put on her sunglasses, and leaned over to turn on her stereo. One of her favorite songs had just started playing on the radio, “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz. Pleased, she turned the volume way up. The upbeat, cheerful song, with its easygoing guitar, sweet vocals, and positive lyrics, perfectly complimented the way she felt just then.

She rolled her window down a little bit more. Strands of her thick hair were lifted in the air as if by invisible fingers and flew behind her shoulders on the wind. Streaks of brilliant color, trees that were magnificent in their autumn peak, were glorious as she passed them by. She focused on closing her mind to negative thoughts, to letting her heart sing and her nourished soul soar. Smiling, she felt genuinely ready for whatever would come next.

THE END

KEEP READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT

BOOK 2 OF THE SEASONS OF LOVE SERIES…

SEASONS OF LOVE Series, Book Two

CHAPTER ONE

LYDIA POWELL COULDN’T BELIEVE
how quickly her mood could change. She had been so high, so elated, for the entire drive back from Connecticut; but as soon as she crossed the border into Matt’s town, she felt an instant, dramatic decline. The good feelings seeped right out of her, and quickly, like the air being released from a balloon. Some residual happiness from the magical weekend clung to heart with tiny claws, but the closer she got to her ex-husband’s apartment building, the darker she felt.

She hated how she could never find a parking spot in Long Beach. To park anywhere near one of the many apartment complexes by the beach, she usually had to drive around, circling, searching for a good ten minutes or so before finding a space. Today wasn't any different; if anything, it was worse because it was dinner time, so everyone was home, and there were no open spots to be found. By the time Lydia found a space, three blocks away from Matt’s building, she was annoyed and disgruntled.

After exiting and locking her car, she raised her face to the early evening sun and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Parked so close to the Atlantic, she could smell the salt of the ocean on the air. Light gusts of wind lifted thick strands of her hair from her shoulders and whipped them into her face. She took one last deep, cleansing breath, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and headed towards Matt’s apartment building.

She couldn't help but let her thoughts again drift back to Sam, the sweet, gorgeous man she'd met over her long weekend away. She’d travelled to Connecticut for her friend’s wedding, and really hit it off with the best man’s brother. Sam had knocked her flat with his easygoing nature, kindness, warmth, and delicious charm. And those warm brown eyes… and that lean, taut body… and that
smile
. She'd never seen a smile that physically impacted her as his did. It made her feel silly, how much it affected her.

She wondered if she'd ever see him again.

He'd pursued her all weekend, then made a strong case—claimed he wanted to see her again, for them to give long distance dating a chance… but who knew if he was really sincere? Time would tell. In any case, it had been such a wonderful weekend, it barely seemed real. Even as the prospect of dealing with her grouchy ex loomed, the thought of Sam kept a smile on her face and in her heart. It was enough to buoy her up for now.

Lydia’s chin edged up defiantly as she entered the lobby of Matt's building. She felt restored, renewed, and stronger as a result of the weekend away. Spending time with her three best girlfriends from college, who'd been so supportive and fun… relaxing at the beautiful estate where the wedding had been held… and her unexpectedly delightful rendezvous with a new and appealing man. No one could take any of that away from her, not even her snide ex-husband.

She pushed the button for his apartment and waited for him to buzz the security door open. It took him a good twenty seconds, and she fleetingly wondered if he was genuinely busy, or if he was just making her wait to be obnoxious. She swatted the thought from her mind as she made her way across the lobby and into the elevator.

She checked her watch as she rode to the fourth floor; it was almost five-thirty. Again she thought of Sam. If the flight was on time, he and his extended family were probably taking off at that very moment, headed back to Chicago… she made herself return to reality as she realized she had to figure out what to give her son for dinner.

Her precious son. Andy’s beautiful little face entered her mind, and her heart expanded as it filled with love for her only child. That three-and-a-half-year-old boy had stolen her heart in a way that no one could ever have prepared her for.

The past three days had been the longest she’d been away from him since he’d been born. When the elevator doors opened, Lydia was suddenly overwhelmed, unable to be away from her baby for another minute. She rushed down the hall and knocked insistently on Matt’s door.

“Hey,” Matt said in greeting. His voice sounded as it had for the past few years: flat and annoyed. They glanced at each other in brief acknowledgement.

“MAMA!!” Andy came running towards Lydia, arms outstretched, a wide smile on his angelic face.

She crouched down to catch him in a bear hug and held him tightly, inhaling the sweet scent of him. She caressed his thick bronze hair and dropped kisses all over his face. “Oh baby, Mama missed you sooo much!”

“Mamaaa.” Andy pulled back to look at her and smile again, then buried his face in her neck for more hugs. She cooed in response, delighted, hugging him tighter.

“I’ll get his things,” Matt mumbled, and ambled down the small hallway towards his bedroom in the back.

“Did you have a good time with Daddy?” Lydia murmured against Andy’s ear. “You had fun?”

Andy pulled back to look at her again and smiled. “Dada.”

“Really? It was good?” she asked again, hopeful.

“Yah. Dada,” he smiled. She knew by the way that he said it and the expression on his face that Andy had genuinely enjoyed his time with his father. The first sleepover weekend had been a success. She breathed a sigh of deep relief.

Andy was speech delayed, or speech impaired, depending on which specialist was phrasing it. He’d been getting speech therapy since the day after his second birthday, as soon as he’d qualified for services provided by the county. But even now, at three and a half, his vocabulary was a mere handful of barely discernible words: Mama and Dada, no and yah, up and down—those were clear; but dere, dis, won, mick, tee, and Emmo, which she knew referred to his beloved Elmo, were not as comprehensible, unless you knew Andy and spent time with him. Lydia often cracked that she spoke “fluent Andy-ese”, but it was her usual habit to make a joke to cover for something that bothered her. It broke her heart daily to see her son, who was obviously bright, get aggravated whenever he tried to communicate. Sometimes, he bit, or hit, or threw things in his toddler-aged frustration. Lydia understood that: in the same predicament, she’d want to bite, hit, or throw things too.

Matt, on the other hand, had never been as tolerant, sympathetic, or compassionate as she thought the father of such a child should be. He obviously loved Andy—she’d never deny that—but Matt was quickly frustrated by his inability to understand his son. His own irritation, and, she suspected, repressed guilt would bubble to the surface, and he’d lose patience, basically just thrusting Andy back at Lydia when he couldn’t figure out what his son wanted. She had been initially nervous and reluctant to let Andy stay with Matt for three whole days.

Now, she kissed Andy once more before standing up. He seemed happy, he was fine. She could exhale again. She smiled down at him and smoothed his hair. “We’re going home now, okay?”

“Yah, yah,” Andy cried, jumping up and down with happiness. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes, the eyes he’d inherited from his father. In Matt, the pale shade of blue seemed like ice, and left her cold. In her beloved child, the same shade of blue seemed nothing short of stunningly beautiful.

“Here’s his bag,” Matt said as he reentered the living room. He dropped the blue duffel bag without care at Lydia’s feet. “His coat’s in the closet, I’ll get it.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. They always tried to be civil in front of their son, knowing their fighting in front of him had done enough damage already. But it was difficult. They were still so angry at each other, for so many things. She could feel herself tense up whenever she was near Matt, and knew he shut down around her almost altogether.

It’s a shame things have to be this way
, she thought as she cupped her little boy’s chin in her hand. Andy smiled up at her, hugged her leg tightly. She smiled back and caressed his straight, shiny hair.