Page 116 of And Then Came You

“I’ll leave you two.” Grabbing my coat and purse, I walk toward the door, aware of Sam on my heels.

“Don’t leave, Lexi.”

“You’ve got plans. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“The only plans I have tonight are to be with you.”

I hold up my phone, showing him the time—half-past twelve. “Per the rules, the date ended at midnight. You’ve been free for thirty minutes.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “What are you saying?”

Standing on tiptoe, I press a kiss to his cheek. “That my head hurts and Almira is waiting.”

“I’ll be down to check on you.”

I hate lying to my friend, but this one is necessary for my sanity. “Please don’t. Once I take my medication, it makes me very tired and the only real cure is sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Sam.”

* * *

My head is still pounding the next morning, but there’s no medicine on the planet to ease the hurting in my heart.

I turned off my phone after arriving back in my room. I knew, despite my objections, that Sam would indeed call me after my sudden departure. Whether it was to explain or simply ensure I’m still breathing, I can’t be sure. But Sam is good like that. An amazing friend who’s proven his mettle time and again.

That’s the trouble. He’s a great friend, but we crossed a line last night, and I don’t think I can move back into the friend zone again.

Not with Sam.

Deep down, I’m not surprised. I always knew I wasn’t Sam’s type. I was a curiosity, intriguing even, but not the woman Sam would look to long term. Still, when the opportunity presented itself, I released my misgivings and let my heart lead.

I’m never listening to my heart again. She’s fired.

Even better, I have a panel discussion this morning about life imitating art.

Oh, the irony.

Trudging to the closet, I spy a few slips of paper shoved under my door.

Sam left not one, not two, but three scrawled messages, all concerned about my headache, overall well-being and why I wasn’t answering the door. Every one signed the same: Love you, Sam.

He does love me. That’s the rub. He just isn’tinlove with me. I can walk away from Sam and our friendship or attempt to reinstall myself as his best friend. His platonic best friend. Both choices are agonizing.

After a long shower where the water never seems to get hot enough, I stumble through my suitcase, pulling out my planned attire. How quaint. I packed sexy dresses, hoping for another fun-filled day of sexual exploration with Sam.

Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

Even through all of this, I’m grateful for my night with Sam. Not because he’s a model and the definition of perfection—which he is—but because he was so gentle. So loving. He promised me that the next man would treat my body with respect and love every inch of me.

He didn’t lie.

I need breakfast, but after catching sight of Almira near the coffee station, I opt to skip food in favor of sanity. She means well, but conversing with her after she spent the night with Sam is like twisting a knife in my heart.

My cry-filled shower cut into my morning routine, so I don’t have but a few minutes before the panel. Good. I need to keep busy. Insanely busy.

A hand grips my elbow, and I turn, plastering on a smile as I meet those jade eyes. “Good morning, Sam.”

Grasping my hand, Sam leads me to a quiet alcove. “Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Better, thanks.”

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