Page 41 of New Year's Faye

Heat crept up my neck.

"Exactly. What if they can tell we're faking it?"

Sam crossed to where I stood, gently taking his jacket from my hands. "Faye, breathe."

"I am breathing."

"No, you're spiraling." He shrugged into the jacket, and I absolutely did not notice how it pulled across his shoulders. "Everyone just wants to see us. No agenda.”

"No agenda," I echoed dubiously.

"It'll be fine." Sam's hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward the steps. "Though fair warning – Frankie's probably going to ask about our sex life."

I stumbled. "She what?"

"Sexologist, remember?" His grin was far too amused. "She likes to make people squirm with inappropriate questions. It's her love language."

"And you're just reminding me of this now?"

"Would you have agreed to go if I'd told you earlier?"

"No!"

"Exactly." He pressed the open door button, waiting for the exit doors to slide open. "Besides, you're the one who's always saying we need to make this look real."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

As we stepped out onto the grass lot, Sam's phone buzzed.

"Justice wants to know if we'll be back in time for an early rehearsal tomorrow."

"Tell him yes. We need to run through the new arrangement for 'Wild Heart' before tomorrow's show." I frowned as a thought hit me. "Unless... do you want to stay longer with your family? I can handle rehearsal notes?—"

"Faye." Sam's voice was soft. "Stop trying to manage everything."

"I'm not—" I caught his knowing look in the elevator's mirrored wall. "Fine. But someone has to."

"And someone has to make sure you don't work yourself to death." He bumped my shoulder with his. "Good thing you married me."

My heart did that strange flutter again.

"Car's here," Sam said, nodding to where our driver waited. His hand found my lower back again, warm and steady. "Ready?"

I thought about Frankie's inappropriate questions, about Jay's cryptic text, about how natural Sam's touch felt.

"Not even slightly."

He laughed, the sound wrapping around me like a familiar melody. "That's my girl."

And for just a moment, I let myself believe he meant it.

I slid into the back seat, only to be immediately assaulted by memories of the last time we’d been alone in the back of a limo.

Flushing, I ducked my head, pulling my phone out of my bad to text Hope.

FayeMoyo

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