Chapter 24
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With the exception of two other patrons and the bartender, the bar was empty. There was man wearing a wrinkled suit with a suitcase at his feet sitting at the bar drinking alone. 'Just arrived into town,' Martin thought. 'Wife just kicked him out,' thought Sam. There was also a woman seated at a table talking on her cell phone. Martin could hear her conversation as they passed. "It went well. Having a drink in the bar – I needed something to decompress. Yeah, I miss you too."
Sam led them to a small booth on the other side of the bar. As Martin sat down he eyed the grand piano in the corner and an image of Sam lying on top of it singing a ballad while he tickled the ivories entered his mind. He smiled to himself and Sam eyed him carefully.
While it was a round booth they both sat on the edges so they were facing each other but not touching. They were quietly studying one another unsure of what to say when the bartender walked over.
"Hello, what can I get for you?" He asked as he placed a bowl of pretzels on their table.
Sam looked up and said, "Vodka martini; two olives, please."
"And for you sir?"
"Um, I'll take a scotch on the rocks. Thanks." The waiter nodded his head and returned to the bar to make their drinks. Martin suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. While talking to Sam yesterday made dinner with the team much easier, he missed the safe haven of a phone line and separate locations. It was tense to be alone with her in dimly lit bar while she looked so lovely in the soft shadows that it made his heart ache with yearning.
"So how was your first night sleeping on the boat?" Sam asked as she picked a pretzel out of the bowl and began scraping off the large rocks of salt with her well manicured nails.
"Great. It was just like I remembered." He watched as she scraped off the final piece of salt before putting the uneaten pretzel aside and reaching into the bowl for another one.
The bartender walked back over and wordlessly placed the drinks on the table before returning to the bar.
"That's great. Does the boat sway a lot even when it's docked?" Sam asked as she took a drink of her martini. Her question was laced with forced enthusiasm and it riled something inside of Martin.
He wrapped his hand around the small glass of scotch deciding to just avoid any pretense and asked, "Sam, why are we here?"
"What do you mean? We're having a drink." Sam replied, plucking one olive off the little plastic sword with her teeth.
"I mean, two months ago you couldn't stand to be in the same room with me. You hardly said more than a few words to me outside of discussing a case and now you are inviting me to sit with you and have a drink. I just want to know why." Martin couldn't believe what he said but knew it felt great to say it.
Sam swallowed and glanced at the bowl of pretzels before looking up to meet Martin's hard gaze and softly said, "I missed you and I just wanted to talk to see if there's any chance left for us."
Martin dropped his gaze and took a long drink of his scotch. He put the glass down and the ice clinked. He stared at it for a moment, trying to compose his thoughts before he looked back up at Sam and said, "You don't really mean that; you just feel guilty."
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose before looking back at Martin and saying, "I don't feel guilty. That's not what this is about; I've had a lot of time to think and I realized how much I care about you."
Martin didn't say anything so Sam's eyes dropped to the napkin under her glass. She fiddled with it waiting for Martin to say something but he remained silent. Finally, unable to wait any longer she continued talking.
"I know I made a lot of mistakes." She looked up and met his eyes. "A lot of mistakes; I want a chance to fix them, to try and make it right."
She removed the second olive and held it in between her fingertips. Martin realized that she could do the same thing with his heart: hold it carefully in the palm of her hand or crush it with her fist. She had almost dismantled it before and now she wanted a second chance. Martin just wasn't sure he could afford to risk it.
After a long pause, Martin looked up at her big brown eyes and felt some of his resolve crumble. "I don't know Sam. What makes you think it'll be different the second time?"
"I'll be different. I've had time to work on those problems of mine." She gave him a small sad smile and something inside of Martin melted. He studied her wondering if she was really willing to actually try and make it work; to let him into her heart and not just her bed.
He took a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow night for dinner?"
She gave him a wide smile and said, "Not a damn thing."
