Page 27 of The Man I Love

“Yes.”

“What does he look like?”

“Gray hair. Beard,” Peter answered.

Margaret’s eyes met Sam’s, and she lifted a brow. “Any admirers we should know about?”

Sam smoothed her clothes with her palms and checked her reflection in the window. “I’m sure it’s a customer,” she reasoned, taking in her disheveled appearance in the glass.

“That’s awfully bold of him, don’t you think?” Margaret interjected. “The Gallery opens tomorrow. Can’t he wait?”

“Maybe he wants to get ahead of the crowd,” Peter suggested. “I mean, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

After some debatewith her roommates, Samantha finally went downstairs. She’d thought about sending Peter back to tell him she had already gone to bed, but the truth was, she was curious. Visions of her last gallery opening back in LA had been consuming her nightmares all week. The one that had mediacoverage, pulled an enormous crowd, yet where she hadn’t sold a single piece.

On the gallery floor, she made her way past Margaret’s painting of turkey tail mushrooms, and the backlit kaleidoscope of Peter’s stained-glass window, finally stopping when she found him in front of one of her sculptures. He stood exactly where Peter said he’d be. Directly in front of a piece titled, “The climb from defeat.”

It had been the last sculpture she’d completed in LA, and one she’d never wanted to let go of. Mr. Covington had insisted she include it in her collection. He called it brilliant, said it made him sad, yet hopeful at the same time.

She’d rarely developed a sentimental attachment to her work, but this piece was different. Bare chested, head down, an athlete held a football helmet in one hand, barely gripping it with his fingertips. His right shoulder bore deep scars, his face filled with melancholy. However, a determined set to his jaw revealed his invincibility.

As she walked closer, she mentally assessed the situation.

The man’s back was to her, but when he turned just a fraction, she let out a breath. “Mr. Montgomery?”

His stance was hesitant. He took both hands out from his front pockets and turned to face her.

He’d aged significantly since she’d last seen him. His face was covered in a beard that was primarily gray.

He crossed the gap between them, allowing her to see the deep wrinkles peeking out from the corner of his glasses. “Sammie girl, it’s so good to see you!”

His words filled her with nostalgia as he pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back, emotion making her throat tight as she accepted the embrace. But just as quickly as it came, the feeling was over. She pushed him away, taking two gigantic steps backward as memories of Renee’s wedding rushed to herthoughts. “What do you want?” She rubbed over her arms, erasing the touch she’d so willingly taken.

His hands relaxed at his side, and his jaw went slack as he seemed to ignore the question. “It seems like yesterday you were playing in our backyard—now look at you!” he exclaimed, waving his arm around the gallery floor. “A big fancy artist in New York City. I bet your parents are?—”

“What are you doing here?” She cut him off. “What do you want?”

“I was in town …” he said cautiously. “I heard about the gallery opening and I had to come see for myself. I knew you were talented, Sam, but I had no idea.”

She only stared at him. Taking in every detail of his face, his stance, the way he wouldn’t make eye contact for more than a second.

He was lying.

Her breaths grew heavy and she thought of the phone calls Renee had received from him a few weeks ago. Is that why he was here in New York? Is that why he’d come to find her?

Dozens of questions whirled around in her head, but she turned away. “I can’t.” Because standing here now felt like a betrayal to the two people she loved most. “I’m sorry. I have too much to do.” She pivoted toward the staircase.

“Sam, wait!” He followed her.

She forced another step. “Wait!” He yelled, but this time his voice was so guttural that she halted.

“What do you want, Mr. Montgomery?”

“Just listen,” he whispered. “Please. I’ve tried everyone else, please.”

She spun around to look at him. “Is this about the phone calls?” Her voice was shaking. “Are you here because of Renee? Don’t lie to me this time!”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away. “I wasn’t in town,” he confessed. “I flew here to see you.”

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