Still Me (Me Before You #3) - Jojo Moyes Page 0,77
said. ‘Makes you think, though, doesn’t it?’ He reached for his coffee. ‘You have to take your chances when you can.’
A vague melancholy settled over him. I didn’t attempt to shake it. I knew better than anyone how sometimes you just needed to be allowed to feel sad. I waited a moment, then said, ‘I feel that every day.’
He turned back to me.
‘I’m going to say a Will Traynor thing now.’ I said it like a warning.
‘Okay.’
‘There’s almost not a day that I’m here when I don’t think he’d be proud of me.’
I felt the tiniest bit anxious as I said it, conscious of how I had tested Sam in the early days of our relationship by going on and on about Will, about what he had meant to me, about the Will-shaped hole he had left behind. But he just nodded. ‘I think he would too.’ He stroked his thumb down my finger. ‘I know I am. Proud of you. I mean, I miss you like hell. But, jeez, you’re amazing, Lou. You’ve come to a city you didn’t know and you’ve made this job, with its millionaires and billionaires, work for you, and you’ve made friends, and you’ve created this whole thing for yourself. People live their whole lives without doing one tenth of that.’ He gestured around him.
‘You could do it too.’ It just fell out of my mouth. ‘I looked it up. The New York authorities always need good paramedics. But I’m sure we could get round that.’ I said it jokingly but as soon as the words were out I realized how badly I wanted it to happen. I leant forward over the table. ‘Sam. We could rent a little apartment out in Queens or somewhere and then we could be together every night, depending on who was working what insane hours, and we could do this every Sunday morning. We could be together. How amazing would that be?’
You only get one life. I heard the words ringing in my ears. Say yes, I told him silently. Just say yes.
He reached across for my hand. Then he sighed. ‘I can’t, Lou. My house isn’t built. Even if I decided to rent it out, I’d have to finish it. And I can’t leave Jake just yet. He needs to know I’m still around. Just a bit longer.’
I forced my face into a smile, the kind of smile that said I hadn’t taken it at all seriously. ‘Sure! It was just a stupid idea.’
He pressed his lips against my palm. ‘Not stupid. Just impossible right now.’
We decided by unspoken agreement not to mention potentially difficult subjects again, and that killed a surprising number – his work, his home life, our future – and we walked the High Line, then peeled off to go to the Vintage Clothes Emporium where I greeted Lydia like an old friend and dressed up in a 1970s pink sequined jumpsuit, then a 1950s fur coat and a sailor cap and made Sam laugh.
‘Now this,’ he said, as I came out of the changing room in a pink and yellow nylon psychedelic shift dress, ‘is the Louisa Clark I know and love.’
‘Did she show you the blue cocktail dress yet? The one with the sleeves?’
‘I can’t decide between this and the fur.’
‘Sweetheart,’ said Lydia, lighting a Sobranie, ‘you can’t wear fur on Fifth Avenue. People won’t realize you’re doing it ironically.’
When I finally left the changing room, Sam was standing at the counter. He held out a package.
‘It’s the sixties dress,’ Lydia said helpfully.
‘You bought it for me?’ I took it from him. ‘Really? You didn’t think it was too loud?’
‘It’s totally insane,’ Sam said, straight-faced. ‘But you looked so happy wearing it … so …’
‘Oh, my, he’s a keeper,’ whispered Lydia, as we headed out, her cigarette wedged into the corner of her mouth. ‘Also, next time get him to buy you the jumpsuit. You looked like a total boss.’
We went back to the apartment for a couple of hours and napped, fully dressed and wrapped around each other chastely, overloaded with carbohydrates. At four we rose groggily and agreed we should head out and do our last excursion, as Sam had to catch the eight a.m. flight from JFK the following day. While he packed up his few things I went to make tea in the kitchen where I found Nathan mixing some kind of protein shake. He grinned. ‘I hear your man is here.’