Page 84 of When Love Is Unexpected

She glances at me. Bingo!

"Not that I owe you, or anyone, an explanation, but the only reason Sam left the studio last night is because we were making out, and before we ended up having sex, he did the right thing and left the room."

This time, it's she who snaps her head around to stare at me.

"Do I dare ask?" she says, with a smile that soon turns into a giggle.

I start laughing too, putting an end to the horrible tension that was building up in the small car.

"Yep," I say. "I'm a twenty-six-year-old virgin."

"My brother," she says. "The perpetual gentleman."

***

When we arrive back at the house, Sam isn't there, but the car he drove off in this morning is in the driveway, so I know he's back. I run upstairs and find him in the studio, pulling his clothes out of the closet.

"You're moving out?" I ask, sitting on the bed, cross-legged.

"Without realizing what I was agreeing to," he begins, "I think I promised your dad that your virtue would remain intact while we were here."

"I had a very interesting talk with Emma," I say.

"So did I," he says. "She shook me awake at four o'clock in the morning. She said she couldn't sleep, so she came into the den looking for a book she'd left and found me on the couch. She wanted to know why I wasn't in bed with you."

"What did you tell her?" I ask.

"I told her it was none of her business," he says. "That made her mad, and she went on an hour-long tirade where she questioned me, my motives, even my manhood."

"Why didn't you tell me about Patricia?"

My question surprises him, and his smile instantly disappears.

"What about her?" he asks. "I told you everything."

"You didn't tell me she wants you back." The look on his face confirms Emma's assertions.

"I don't think Patricia has ever known what she wants." He says, avoiding my gaze.

"If I wasn't in the picture," I begin, "would you give your relationship with her another chance?"

"That was a long time ago," he says.

"You're not answering my question," I say.

He walks over and sits next to me.

"Laila, you and I are friends. What we're doing here is pretending, remember?"

"Do you really believe that?" I ask, feeling a lump form in my throat and an uneasy feeling take root in the pit of my stomach.

"You were in a full-fledged relationship with Eric for two years," he says, "and broke up with him because you don't want a long-distance relationship while embarking on a brand new life in Boston. You tell me, what do you think this is?"

I don't know how to answer that, and my hesitation is all he needs to draw his own conclusions.

"When all this is over," he says, waving his hands around, "you're going to get on a plane and return to New York. I'm going to get on a different plane and fly to Athens. Is there anything about the facts, as I've laid them out, that I'm wrong about?"

Again, I don't say anything.

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