They were on adjoining plots of land in Bay Village, and being so close to the heart of downtown Boston made everything so simple. That she was a wealthy entrepreneur felt so discordant with the image she held of herself. Truth was, she was happiest playing “Ms. Pac-Man” on the vintage arcade machine she kept in her living room.
As Clark raided the petty cash for lunch money, she called in their orders. The Falafel King was number seven on the speed dial. What did that say about her life? Nothing she wanted to think about now. After ordering, she went to her drafting table and took another look at the schematics for the nano drive she’d been working on. The temperature issue was fixed—sort of. It would mean the buyers would have to build special cold rooms that had to be so safe they’d stand up to the end of the world. But that wasn’t the problem she was working on today.
After putting her earbud in once more, letting her classical music light up her brain, she put her cell phone close enough that she’d notice if Clark called again. Then Sam began her review of the design in her usual way, starting wherever her eyes fell, usually somewhere in the middle. God, how her technique had driven her professors insane.
Something occurred to her—a bright shiny idea that might just solve an issue she’d shoved to the back of her mind, and then she was in the zone.
At the worst possible time, she caught her cell phone flashing. “Clark,” she muttered as she ripped out her right earbud and answered. “What?”
“Huh. That’s one way to answer the phone.”
It wasn’t—
But it couldn’t be—
Matthew Wilkinson. Matt? Matt!
Sam hadn’t heard his voice in a very long time.
Her eyes shut tight as the world stopped turning. As the memories piled one on top of another. He was her first. Her very, very first love. And her first heartbreak.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been dancing on the head of a pin, but surely he must have thought she’d fainted or something. Well, something had definitely happened—most of her major organs were spinning around like tops.
Matt had been one of her best friends back in her MIT days. She’d been fourteen as a freshman, so all her friends had been four or five years older—and they’d all happened to be guys. They’d bonded over gaming, Marvel comics and bad horror movies. And none of them had been bothered by her age. The guys had protected her. Teased her. And they hadn’t cared that she had the social skills of a paper clip.
“Hello? Still there?”
“Hu...hi, Matt?”
“You okay?”
“Just dropped my pencil,” she said, gripping the phone so tightly she thought it might break. “Sorry.”
“I know it’s been forever. How are you, Sammy?” he asked, his voice dipping lower in a way that made her melt.
No one called her Sammy. She hadn’t heard that name in so long she’d figured she’d never hear it again. It made her blush, and she was grateful there was nobody there to see her. She needed to get off the phone. She couldn’t think. There was too much going on in her head and she’d already started doodling, which wasn’t helping. All she needed to do was tell him she’d call him back. “I’m...I’m...fine. I’m good. Better.”
“Better? Was something wrong?”
“No. Not as such. No. Just— That would be no. Nothing was wrong. I meant to say ‘richer.’”
He laughed. “I’d kind of figured that after reading about your work. So you weren’t quite as dim as we all led you to believe, huh?”
“Not quite.” Her face was so hot she was reasonably sure she was going to burst into flames any second. She was a jumble of emotions. It wasn’t fair, him calling her out of the blue. It had taken her so long to get over him, after all. “How are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice cheerful.
That should buy her a couple of minutes. But she needed to listen. What if he said he was dying or something and she missed it?
“I’m good. Jet-lagged. Just got in from Tokyo.”
“Godzilla stirring up trouble again?”
“I wish,” he said, his voice the same. Exactly the same. She wanted to curl up under the covers and dream about him for a week. “Nothing but boring contracts to negotiate.”
“But you still like being a lawyer, right?”
“Some days are better than others. But yeah.”
“And you’re living in New York?” Was she supposed to know that was where he lived? Oh, God. Why was she still talking?
“I am,” he said, the words delivering both disappointment and relief. If he’d moved back to Boston, she would’ve died. “Hey, I heard from Logan last night.”
Logan was part of the gang that had always had her back in college. “I saw him in June,” she said, thankful for the safe shift in conversation.
“Yeah, I know. He said that crazy apartment of yours is not to be missed. I’m a little hurt that I wasn’t invited for a test run.”
Hi there, worst nightmare! She held back the groan that had come with the thought. “We haven’t talked since you... For a long time. I wasn’t sure...”
“That’s true,” he said, rescuing her as he’d done so often when her words got stuck. Then he sighed. “I want to blame it on traveling the way I do. And my marriage. Or my divorce. Pick one, and it’ll be true. Bottom line? I’ve thought about you. Especially when I’ve happened to catch yet another article about some new, brilliant thing you’ve invented. To be honest, I figured you’d probably only answer the phone for Stephen Hawking, not guys like me.”
“Not a guy like you? I talk to Logan and Rick. They’re not Hawking. I don’t even know Stephen Hawking. He never calls.”
“Never writes? Bastard.”
She smiled and some of her parts relaxed. Not her heart, though. That was still doing cartwheels even as she tried to put on the brakes. “I’m still me,” she said, as a reminder to herself more than him. “Still can’t talk on the phone worth a damn. Still watching my old copies of Robot Chicken and playing ‘World of Warcraft.’”
“Thank God,” he said. “I’d hate it if you weren’t you. No, that’s wrong. We all change, and I’m sure you have, too. You’re certainly doing a great job in the career department.”
“I have people. Lawyers. A financial planner and a business manager. They talk business. I talk to tech people, so that’s like school.”
“I’m glad. I really am. Look, I’m coming to Boston for a week or so, and I’d love to stay in that smart apartment, at least for a few days. But mostly, I want to see you.”
See her? Why? “Okay,” she said, because she was an idiot and she couldn’t think straight and this was Matt. “When are you coming?”
“In
