Page 32 of The Man I Love

Like Mr. Covington said––they deserved this.

Shedeserved this.

“I’ll go get ready,” Sam stated, bounding up the stairs that led to her bedroom.

“Samantha,” Mr. Covington called from the steps that led to the gallery floor. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

In her peripheral vision, she could see her dress upstairs, hanging from the door jamb of her bedroom, and she was instantly torn in two directions. “I just need to throw on my gown—” she stated, but his eyebrows furrowed, and a slight shake of his head told her he wouldn't have it.

For five months Mr. Covington had been her boss, and he’d never denied her anything.

“Of course,” she stated, and reluctantly moved in his direction. Thirty minutes remained before Tristan arrived—thirty minutes before hundreds of people gathered for the exhibit. Mr. Covington knew this better than anyone—yet—here he stood demanding her attention.

She gripped the handrail on the stairs, hiding the shake in them. “Is something wrong?” she whispered.

He didn’t speak right away, and his eyes were intense when they finally met hers. “I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t think it was important, but he’s very insistent.”

The air in the stairwell felt thick, making it nearly impossible for her lungs to pull in a full breath.

“Who?” she asked quietly, even though she already knew the answer.

“He says his name is Thomas Montgomery.” He leaned and whispered, “He says it’s an emergency.”

Panic filled Samantha’s chest, and she flicked her eyes back toward her dress, feeling the distance grow farther. “Where is he?”

“Downstairs,” he answered without skipping a beat. “Security is keeping an eye on him. Is something wrong, Samantha? Just say the word and I’ll have him escorted out of the building.”

For a second, she thought about it. Thought about having him taken out like trash—but she couldn’t. Even now, after all that had happened, she had love for Tristan’s father. She’d known him her whole life, and because of that, she also knew he wasn’t the type of man to takenofor an answer.

If she had him removed from the building, he would only come back. Though next time Tristan would be there. Next time hundreds of people would be there as witnesses.

“It’s fine,” she stated after a long pause. She rushed past Mr. Covington as she headed downstairs.

The Gallery floor was already full of people dressed to the nines in tuxedos and floor-length gowns, making her hyper-aware of her attire.They were laughing and socializing as they waited for the show to begin, but her gaze locked on Mr. Montgomery. He stood below one of Peter’s stained-glass windows, his large frame commanding, as colorful light danced along his profile.

A protective surge made her spine a little straighter as she moved across the floor. He wore a black tuxedo like every other man in attendance, yet something was different. Perhaps his elegant posture which was so much like his daughter’s, or the set of his jaw which was so much like his son’s.

“Mr. Montgomery,” she whispered as she came to stand beside him, hoping to appear as his friend to those around them. Shoulder to shoulder, she leaned in close and whispered into his ear, “This is not a good time. I’m going to have to ask you to leave?—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze remained on the window.

There were hundreds of people lining the sidewalk outside, but all she could focus on was her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Tristan would arrive at any moment. Soon, all her loved ones would be there—Tristan, Renee… She drew in a sharp breath, and the weight of awareness made her eyes blur with emotion.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” She slowly turned toward him. “You knew they’d be here. You knew and?—”

“I need their help, Samantha. I told you that last night.”

She wiped over her eyes, shaking her head. “Renee’s pregnant.” All she wanted was to force him to leave. To give him every excuse she could think of. “She can’t—” She couldn’t form the words. She covered her mouth with her fingers.

“What?” Mr. Montgomery’s voice was quiet when he turned to face her.

Her back stiffened and she turned away, realizing what she’d done.

“What did you say?” For a mere second she heard emotion in his voice. Heard an understanding that gutted her.

“You’re wasting your time, Mr. Montgomery. Please leave.” She didn’t want to be so cruel, but she had no other choice. More people entered the building, and she looked down at her clothes.The same sweatsuit she’d worn on the train. The same boots. “This isn’t the time,” she mouthed in his direction. “The event is about to start, and I need to get ready.” She turned on her heels to head back upstairs, but his grip on her forearm stopped her. “I’m not going anywhere, Samantha, not until I talk to my kids.”

She scanned the gallery floor, realizing what he meant. There was no way out of this situation but through it.

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