Page 18 of The Man I Love

“What do you mean you don’t know what you’re doing here?” Rene’s frown grew intense. “You’re making art. You’re making a name for yourself, just like you planned.”

Sam leaned back awkwardly in her chair, then glanced at the street, so jam-packed with cars that movement had ceased in both directions. “I keep questioning if this is what I really want. I love my art, I love The Gallery, but this life? I’m not sure where I fit in.

Renee nodded, appearing to grasp Sam's meaning without much of an explanation. “We’ve both chosen careers that don’t exactly go hand in hand with raising a family on the prairie, now did we?”

Sam cleared her throat, trying to contain her emotions. “I miss Tristan a lot, Ren. I’m not sure if I can do this much longer.”

“It’s been a lot of change for you. I’m sure it will get easier.”

Sam shook her head. “That’s the thing. I don’t know if I want it to get easier. Time is all we have, and I can feel things changing between us. I can hear it in Tristan’s voice, and I don’t like it. He sounds distant, and it worries me.”

Renee squeezed her shoulders. “Worries you how?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go to him then,” Renee said firmly.

“I have work—my studio is full of only half-completed sculptures, and I need to get ready for the gallery opening.”

“You can take a day off.” Renee snatched Samantha’s phone off the table and started typing into the search bar. There’s a flight that leaves out of JFK in two hours.” She showed Sam the screen. I bet if you leave right now, you could make it.

Sam wiped her face, dragging her hand down slowly. “I can’t—you’ve got to be joking.”

“Half of your clothes are still in LA so you don’t even need to pack.” She thrust the phone toward Samantha, where a blue purchase button was forefront on the screen. Sam’s heart pounded as she took the phone out of Renee’s hand. Her finger hovering the glass before she finally pressed the button. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

Renee placed one hand on top of Samantha’s shoulder. “Mission accomplished,” she said with a wink.

Sam picked up her purse and zipped up her hoodie.

“I have two requests.” Renee caught Sam’s elbow and held up two fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Have fun when you get there.” She lowered one of them. “And two...don’t tell Tris about the baby. Phin and I want to tell him in person when he comes to The Gallery opening next month.”

8

CHAPTER EIGHT

December

Eight Months Earlier

Los Angeles

The entire officewas dark when Tristan punched in the numbers for what felt like the hundredth time. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the anxiety in his chest threatening to cut off his circulation.

“It’s not enough?” he whispered to no one at all. “It’s not enough.”

His head fell back to his chair, his feet kicking backward, causing the chair to roll and thud noisily against the wall. The silent echo of his own voice drummed in his head. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. In and out. In and out.

Breathe Montgomery, just breathe.

How did I let this happen? How could I be so stupid?

Montgomery Pool Service had been his life for the past five years. He knew the business like the back of his hand, knew how to budget through winter, economic decline, and just abouteverything—yet—somehow his entire existence had slipped through his fingers because of a stupid mistake.

“Shit!” He rolled toward his desk and glanced down at the calculator, willing the numbers to somehow be different. But they weren't. The bold black numbers didn’t lie, they didn’t sugarcoat the fact he was failing. He would go under. Possibly in less than a month. He had enough personal funds tucked away for another two—possibly three—but that would mean dipping into his own savings. Money he’d set aside for his future. His and Samantha’s wedding and honeymoon.

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