Page 45 of New Year's Faye

"Hey." Sam appeared in the doorway. "You okay? You've been staring at that wine bottle for a while."

I looked down at the bottle still clutched in my hands. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous pastime."

"For you, maybe."

His laugh was soft as he crossed to me, taking the wine. "Come on. Jay's about to serve, he has a whole thing about cold pasta—no one wants to be subjected to that rant."

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Are we..." I hesitated, not sure what I was asking. Are we okay? Are we real? Are we making a mistake?

His free hand found mine, squeezing gently. "We're good, Faye. Promise."

And the thing was, I believed him.

Even if I wasn't sure what 'good' meant anymore.

Dinner was exactly as chaotic as I should have expected from this family.

Jay told stories about the lumber yard between bites of pasta, while Frankie interrupted with increasingly inappropriate questions about tour life. Kids ran riot around the table while babies cried and were passed around to whoever had a free hand.

Sam kept his hand on my knee under the table, a gesture that was probably meant to be reassuring but instead sent sparks up my spine every time he moved.

"So," Frankie said, refilling my wine glass with a worrying gleam in her eye. "Tell us about the wedding night."

I choked on my pasta.

"Frankie," Jay warned.

"What? It's a valid question. I mean, they went from friends to married. That's a big jump. There had to be some underlying tension there."

Sam's hand tightened on my knee. "We're not discussing our sex life."

"Who said anything about sex?" Frankie's smile was wicked. "I'm talking about emotional intimacy. The way long-time friends suddenly have to navigate new boundaries. The shift from professional to personal. Though if you want to talk about sex?—"

"We don't," I cut in quickly.

"Spoilsports." She turned to Jay. "Babe, remember when we first got together? All that delicious tension from?—"

"And that's enough wine for you." Jay smoothly moved the bottle away from his wife.

Heat crept up my neck. "Excuse me." I stood abruptly. "Bathroom?"

"Down the hall, second door on the right," Jay said.

I felt Sam's concerned gaze follow me as I fled—because that's what this was, wasn't it? Running from truths I wasn't ready to face.

The bathroom was all sleek lines and adaptive fixtures, a perfect blend of style and function, just like everything about Jay and Frankie's life together. I braced my hands on the sink, staring at my reflection.

"Get it together," I whispered to myself. "It's not real."

Except...

That kiss had been real. Our laughter, our easy teasing, the way he’d looked at me when he’d admitted he wanted to kiss me again.

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