A/N: Two more wonderful fan-made covers (the 2nd one is at the end of the chapter), this time by theCivilSavage and look: this one has our couple TOGETHER! I'm so in love with these!!!
Sam picked a piece of lint off the cuff of his black Hugo Boss suit, his eyes cast at the edge of Emmie's dresser, visible through her open doorway just off the kitchen. Emmie handed him a steaming cup of coffee and sat down opposite of him, tucking her favorite fluffy purple cardigan around the growing curve of her belly.
"Well, at least you chose a Saturday to come by this time. And it's actually past the crack of dawn. You're getting better at this, Sam."
They both took a simultaneous sip of coffee. "This is just a routine visit. No new news to report. I just wanted to come by and see how things are going." He nodded towards the living room and its new art studio décor. "You've been busy, I see."
"Oh, that." She gripped her cup a bit harder. It was still so difficult to let other people see her work. "Yes. Well, my friends have been encouraging me to let my inner artist out. They want me to display my work downstairs in the gallery. Have an art opening. The whole thing."
Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
"Do you... do you think that would be okay? I mean, it's not like I'm being represented by some famous gallery in New York. It's just little Moon Beach. I doubt anyone will even show up for the opening."
"I will." Sam got up and stepped around Emmie into the living room. His gaze panned over several of the pieces she had propped on the floor against the far wall. "And I think it's fine. Having the art show, I mean. I would hesitate more if you were in a larger town, maybe. But as you said, it's Moon Beach, so... It's great that you're finding your niche here."
"I am." Emmie hadn't realized until that moment that she wasn't actually dreading the opening but instead was looking forward to it. It was terrifying, sure, but under the terror was a brewing excitement that was just about ready to boil over.
She followed Sam into the living room. "Does that mean I can do it?"
Sam laughed, possibly the first time Emmie had ever heard him do so. "You don't need my permission, Emmie. I can advise you, but I don't get to make these decisions on your behalf. You're a free woman in charge of your own destiny."
That wasn't strictly true, Emmie internally noted. She hadn't picked Moon Beach, or Oregon, or even the West Coast, for that matter. She hadn't selected the apartment she was living in, and most of the furniture had come with it. Those things had all been decided for her. Still, he had a point. Now that she'd been placed here, it was up to her to determine what sort of risk certain activities presented. On a scale of no big deal to catastrophically stupid, having an art opening at Moon Beach Collective had to rank pretty low.
"You're right, Sam. I'm going to do it." She picked up a half-finished sketchbook and thumbed through it, not really looking for anything in particular. "And thank you for saying you'd come to the opening. You don't have to, you know. But I appreciate it. You'll probably be the only one who shows up, aside from my friends."
"Aren't I your friend?" He peered at her quizzically. Something about his gaze made Emmie want to blush, which is why she was eminently grateful when he followed up with, "I realize I'm the Marshal assigned to you, but I have a vested interest in each one of my cases and you're no exception. I want to see you succeed in your new life. And that means being your friend, in a sense, rather than your own personal dictator. I'd like to show my support."
"Right. Of course." She put her sketchbook down on the end table and wandered back to the kitchen where her unfinished cup of coffee waited. Until this moment, Emmie had underestimated Sam's role in her life. He was the only one who knew who she'd been before she'd come to Moon Beach. Because of this, she liked to think of him as a confidant. Still, he was a US Marshal, a federal agent who only spent time with her because he was on the clock. That made this as a professional relationship more than anything else, which was probably for the best. "You know what I mean, though."
Sam nodded.
Perhaps a change of topic would be beneficial. "So, as your friend, I don't want to pry but you haven't brought up your daughter lately. How's she doing?"
By now, Sam was back in the kitchen with her. He took his mug from the table and leaned against the window ledge adjacent to his chair. "The cancer hasn't responded to this last round of treatment."
"Oh Sam, I'm so sorry to hear that."
He shrugged. "She's a fighter. We're not giving up. There are still options."
"Well, that's good. Ashlyn seems like a strong girl. I'm sure something the doctors try will work. You know, I've been thinking about her a lot lately."
Sam's tense expression softened. He slid back into the chair. "It's been difficult. Her mom and I end up fighting about every little thing. I mean, it's not as bad as when we were married, but almost. Neither of us are handling the stress all that well."
Now it was Emmie's turn to raise an eyebrow. Sam was the textbook definition of calm and collected. He didn't seem easily distressed. At the same time, perhaps his put-together persona was a defense mechanism. Under that cool façade, the poor man had a lot to worry about. Emmie hated that she was just one more of those concerns currently deepening the creases in his forehead.
She reached out and placed her hand over his, giving it what she hoped was a friendly little squeeze, then released him. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know that I'm just part of your job and I mean, I guess us being friends goes along with that job. Trisha and the others think you're an old friend who used to live across the street from me in high school. So I guess it helps our, um, cover that I know some things about your life and your family. But please don't doubt that I genuinely care. I appreciate everything you've been doing for me, too."
Her warm smile was met with the most confused expression she'd ever seen. His face was like a kaleidoscope, changing with every little nudge you gave it. Most likely, Sam, so guarded with his emotions, wasn't used to someone being open and truthful. After all, he had a career that dealt in secrets. She knew only too well how secret-keeping could take its toll.
He took another sip of coffee, his eyes cast down at the table. Emmie couldn't imagine what he was going through. The thought of having a child so sick terrified her even though she wasn't a mother yet. Sam was someone who liked to be in control. But death was uncontrollable. It claimed you and those you loved eventually, no matter how pressed your suits were or how planned out your life may be.
When he'd drained his cup, Sam stood, taking his overcoat off the back of his chair. "I need to get back to Portland. I've got Ash this evening and my place is a mess."
Emmie peered at his meticulous appearance. She found it hard to believe that his home would be anything less than OCD level 10 immaculate at all times. "You have anything fun planned?"
"Yeah, I've got a bunch of Disney princess movies to watch. She can't get enough of those. She was a different princess every Halloween for five years in a row. This last one it was Supergirl, though. I think of her as my hero, so I kind of liked that." He edged towards the door leading out of Emmie's apartment, then turned around, seemingly hesitant to leave. "Stay safe, Emmie. Text me the date of your opening. Unless something comes up with Ashlyn, I'll be here for it. Thank you for... for... understanding how I am."
Before she could respond, he was out the door.
A/N: Aren't these fab covers? Eek! Also, the picture in the middle is an example of the suit Sam was wearing. Can you imagine Channing Tatum sporting that suit? Yes. Yes you can! Anyways, I thought Sam needed some more air time, so here he is making another appearance at Emmie's home. I hope he's right that Emmie's art show won't cause any problems for her. But I do hope a few people show up! Do you think he will? Will Ryker?
Thanks for your continued readership! I know my updates aren't thousands of words in length, but please bear with me. Writing is not my full time job (#lifegoals) and my day job and family keep me busy. Today's votes will be used to buy me my very own UMA who will do all of the cooking and cleaning so that more of my home time can be spent writing (#robotgoals). Yay!
Today's dedication is for theCivilSavage for the amazing covers. Thank you!