CHAPTER SEVEN

For dinner we had tasty saffron rice with garden peas, a tender roasted beef with plenty of veggies, and a grand fruit torte for dessert. Eleanor prepared everything herself and I was honored to learn her secret recipe as we exchanged stories in the kitchen.

She's a marvel in the kitchen.

It turns out that they lived in London before moving to Montana a year ago, after her husband's death. It was a rueful revelation. Well, she's such a good conversationalist. Or maybe I've just fallen in love with her motherly warmth and tenderness.

Done with the dinner I head back to my room after a half glass of a vintage red wine from Napa, as I was told. Now the only problem is boredom. Sleeping in a new room can be a little tricky. Not for long after, however, Sam drops by once again.

"Any problem, ma'am? I'm busy chasing after my sleep you know?" I tease, pulling my pajamas from the suitcase.

"I see you've found yourself a new bestie, huh?" Sam grins, drawing herself in.

"I don't follow," I remark, clueless of what she's referring at. I start peeling off the dress and the bra that has been bugging me since earlier.

I hate brassieres. But I need them to swell my little whatever that hides beneath.

"I'm talking about Liam's mother." Sam drops heavily on the bed, untying her hair with a sharp tug of the hairband.

"Eleanor? What about her?" I ask.

"You two are clicking like hell," Sam clears, her tone suspicious. What is she implying? "Did she say anything about me?"

Oh, that's it.

"Not in particular," I reply while folding my dress. "She only asked how long we've known each other, and naturally I told her since childhood."

"Did you mention the orphanage?"

"Yes?"

"Jesus! And what did she say?"

"Nothing. Just the usual words that we must be used to by now," I answer matter-of-factly. "Why, Sam? Were you planning on hiding it?" I just don't understand her reaction.

"No, it's just--" She stammers, a small hint of displeasure clouding her sleepy-like eyes. "Oh, I don't know." She stands up briskly and starts walking in circles, as though pondering about something.

Oh, it's that little disease. "Come here." I hold her hand and pull her down. "Stop thinking about that, okay?"

"About what?" She gives me the I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about look.

"Sam, I know you're still bothered with the fact that your mother abandoned you in that place," I say and she swallows hard. "But don't let it destroy you, please. It wasn't your fault, and it definitely doesn't mean you should be ashamed of it. You're amazing, and if there's anyone who doesn't see it, then they've got to check their brain. Forget about it."

"Kira . . ." She sighs, fighting the tears in a depressing manner. "I hate this feeling that I may be rejected anytime. I hate feeling this way, but it always gets the best of me."

Damn the tearworks!

"No, don't let it," I say sternly, feeling my own eyes getting wet. "Don't let anything make you feel that way. And guess what, even if the whole world turns against you, I'll always be by your side. We'll grow old together if necessary," I muse, and we both laugh.

At times we both lose to our fears, but in the end we get up again and start over.

"Okay, my Kiki. I love you," Sam says, sniffling.

"I love you bigger," I return as we hug. "And you've said it twice today which means you're nervous. Don't be like that. You know, whenever you do that I go all baby myself."

"Okay." She gets up, all refreshed, and she's even laughing. That's my girl! "No more crying, I came to get something." She starts spinning around.

Ugh, I hate when she does that.

"What are you looking for?" I ask fast do that she stops making me giddy.

"Oh, I get it," she says in apprehension over whatever she's been questing for.

"I'm glad you do," I remark, putting on my sleeping wear.

"I came to get my suitcase." She laughs at her own fish brain. "They have another room for me, is it okay if we sleep separately?” she asks while pulling her large, pink suitcase.

"You think I'm gonna kick you while asleep?"

"Come on, Kira, that's not it," she argues. "The room is opposite to Liam's, so I--"

"Alright, fine! No details!" I stoutly say.

Why does she like tormenting me?

She bursts out laughing, fully aware of my horror regarding her nude talk. "Relax, Kiki. I was only going to say that I wouldn't want to be a bother, in case we take too much time talking while you want to rest."

Oh!

"Works better for me. Have a great time," I tell her, before slipping into a pink top and white pajama pants. I close the window, and then flick off the lights, ready to call it a day.

The place is quite chilly at night. Decidedly I dive under the warm duvet and the sooner I fall asleep the better. I'm deadly exhausted, and for a single lady, why not enjoy the bed? All I need is to get a good sleep if I may.

He approaches me from behind as he normally does, and whispers the words that I usually fail to hear, but not today. I refuse to lose this time. I'm going to hear what he says, and I'm so determined to unravel his face; to finally see him. His strong arms wrap around my tummy, disarming me with a soft brush of his chest against my back, nuzzling my hair smoothly. His touch is something I need badly, his words are the food I'm craving, and his face is all I want to behold.

"I've been waiting forever," he breathes against my neck, and I respire unevenly. "You and I are meant to be; near, far, you're always mine and I yours," he says huskily, making me swallow hard, yet my vocal feels restrained. "I love you, Kira. I always will."

Breathing heavily, I slowly open my eyes, feeling the grand urge to apprehend the proprietor of my unsettling heart. I turn my head in a slow motion, to eventually see the face of this tantalizing stranger who doesn't feel strange at all. He tightens his grip, holding me still. Oh God.

"Please, let me see you," I rasp, my voice barely audible.

"Are you sure, Kira?" His strong hand finds my neck and gently caresses against his velvet lips, sending a shiver down my spine. "Do you think you can handle it?" he asks, his warning so alluring, doubling my desires and curiosity.

"Please," I beg, embracing his soft kisses near my earlobe. He simply drives me insane.

"If you say so," he whispers, and I breathe erratically. Slowly, not wanting to kill the suspense so easily, if not my fears for the unknown, I turn my head around, my heart pounding hard against my chest.

Finally, after the long wait, I manage to grasp his face. He's now standing before me, his smile big and bright, something so beautiful. However, my gaze turn stone-cold when I look at him. I shake my head slowly, denying the sight of him. He's not the one, I mentally scream.

No, it can't be him!

Feeling as though I've skipped a rope, I sit up in bed while running a hand through my messy hair. The dream is still fresh in my head. Why did I see him? Is the only question burning inside me. This is so confusing and I'm losing my mind. Why not someone else of all the people in the States?

Why Liam Darcy?

I swallow convulsively while reaching for the bottle of water, trying to catch a proper breath. It's only one-forty, and this damn insomnia won't go easy on me. What should I do with it? I go for therapies, but I don't think if it helps to cure this, at all. Is it even curable? Now I wonder.