Danielle Steel: Lightning

She arrived on schedule on Monday night at Sam's suite at the Carlyle Hotel, and he looked very serious in a dark gray suit and a white shirt, and navy Hermes tie. He had spent the afternoon with his lawyers, but he hadn't seen Alex at the law firm.

“How'd it go today?” she asked casually, sitting down on the couch, and noticing that he looked very tired. He was looking older lately, understandably. He was incredibly strained over what was about to happen.

“It didn't go too well,” he answered simply, “Phillip Smith thinks the judge is going to put me away for quite a while, which brings me to why we're here.” He took out two checks and put them on the table. “I got a million eight for the apartment last month. And after paying a few debts Miss Daphne Belrose left me with, and the agents' fees, I am left with a million five. I am giving you five hundred thousand here for Annabelle, and anything you might need for her. I want you to put it in trust for her. And I'm keeping five hundred thousand for me if I ever get out of jail again. And the last five hundred thousand is for you, as a settlement, if you want to call it that. You deserve more than that, but that's all that's left, kiddo. The business had nothing left but debts, and responsibilities for the money they embezzled.”

“Good Lord,” she was stunned. “I don't want money from you, Sam.” She looked genuinely startled.

“You deserve it.”

“For what? Being married to you? Hell, I should get a lot more than that,” she heckled him, and he laughed. “Never mind. I can't take this from you. Keep it, or give it to Annabelle.” But he wouldn't agree to either plan. He wanted her to keep it. But she already knew she would put it back in an account for him, he was going to need it a lot more than she did. She had her job, and her needs had never been very expensive.

He ordered dinner for them after that. Steak for himself and fish for Alex. She was careful about her diet. And they chatted easily about a variety of things, like old friends, and they stayed away from the subjects of court or prisons. She was glad she had come. The evening was entirely civilized. He had calmed down considerably in the past couple of weeks, he didn't pressure her, and he didn't lay a hand on her until she put her coat on, and then very gently he bent down to her and kissed her.

“Good night …thank you for coming …” he said, and kissed her again, and she didn't move. She was always stunned by her own inability to resist him. There was something about the familiarity of him that was mesmerizing. It was as though, even after all this time, she had to be with him.

“We'd better stop this now,” she said softly, and then, stunned at herself, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, just for old times' sake, she told herself. It didn't mean anything except to them. And Brock Stevens.

“Why stop now?” he whispered, and she laughed, as he kissed her again.

“I'm trying to remember,” she said, feeling guilty, but enjoying it anyway. And there was something very odd about feeling guilty with him. After all, he was still her husband. But Brock had made such a fuss about him. And it wasn't right for them to be kissing. She was involved with Brock, and she and Sam were divorcing.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she suddenly drew back from him, as though she realized it could go no further. She didn't want anyone to get hurt, or to let Sam hurt her again. But at the look in her eyes, he pulled her closer, and felt her heart pounding against his. And this time, when he kissed her, it wasn't gentle. It was urgent. In two days he would be leaving for decades, and he would never hold her again, and they both knew it. Gently he unbuttoned her coat and dropped it on a chair behind her, as she reminded herself to resist him. And then ever so carefully, he ran a hand up her right side, feeling the familiar breast that had nursed his daughter. He was careful not to touch the left, and then his hands touched her, he looked startled and she smiled at him, amused at his surprise over the implant.

“It grew back,” she said wickedly, and he looked embarrassed. It felt surprisingly realistic and he wondered when she'd done it.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he reproached gently and then kissed her again.

“It was none of your business,” she said softly, excited by him, and not wanting to be. And he wanted her desperately, not just for old times' sake, but for the present.

They were slowly, deliberately, unbuttoning each other's clothes, and she felt frightened as she did it. Their attraction to each other was irresistible and relentless, and there was no stopping what they were feeling.

“You're beautiful.” He pulled away and looked at her, and slowly unbuttoned her blouse and her skirt, and she let her clothes fall to the ground around her. In some ways, she knew she was crazy to do this. But he was going away for a long time, and she loved him. It was a way of saying good-bye, of letting go, of telling him how much she had once loved him, but she knew that they would never have a future. This was all they had now.

“I love you, Sam,” she said simply.

“I love you too … so very, very much….” He could barely speak, he was so excited. He wanted her one last time and then he had promised himself he would let go of her forever. He had no right to ruin her life. He had done enough. He wanted only this last gift from her, and it was obvious as they kissed that, in spite of all her warnings to herself, she wanted it as much as he did. She thought of nothing as she clung to him, except how much she had always loved him.

They made love quietly, and there was a certain peace and beauty to it. It was something they had both wanted for a long time, and hadn't dared to acknowledge. There was passion and comfort and forgiveness. They felt as though they belonged in each other's arms, and they lay there afterwards, knowing it would never happen again, but they would long remember.

“I loved you so much,” she said, as she looked at him.

“So did I,” he said with tears in his eyes, but he was smiling. “I still do. I always will. Not because I'm going to prison, but because I'm a fool and I learned my lessons too late. Be smarter than I was, Allie …don't fuck your life up.”

“You didn't,” she said gently.

“How can you say that now?” he asked softly. “Look at where I'm going day after tomorrow. What a fool I was.” He lay on his back, thinking about all of it, and wishing he could undo it. And then she bent down and kissed him. He looked into her eyes and saw all the tenderness in life there. Brock Stevens was a lucky man. And Sam knew he didn't deserve her. He hoped things worked out for her. The boy was too young. But maybe he'd learn. Maybe he'd be smarter than Sam was.

She wanted to spend the night with him, but she didn't dare. If Annabelle woke up, she'd be upset, and if Brock called, he'd go crazy. He knew she was out with Sam, and he was frantic about it.

“I should go home,” she said sadly, hating to leave him.

“It's stupid, isn't it?” he said. “We're married and we can't spend the night together.” It was all so ironic. And then he looked at her seriously. There was something else he had to tell her. “I want you to know that I wish I had done things differently. When you got sick, I mean. I was too scared. I couldn't even listen. It's too late now to change any of it, but if I had it to do again, Alex, I'd be there. I don't think I'd be good at it, not as good as your friend was. But I'll never forgive myself for not being there for you. I learned a terrible lesson.” He had lost his wife over it, and chased after a falling star named Daphne, all because he'd been afraid and was running away from his mother.