Page 31 of The Man I Love

“He’s so stubborn.”

“Yep.”

“Fuck …” Renee whispered.

“I can’t believe this is happening right now.” Her head began to ache. “Mr. Covington will be here any minute. I have so much to do?—”

“Wait until Monday,” Renee interrupted.

Sam paused. “What do you mean?”

“It’s Friday night. No doctor’s offices will be open, anyway. Not for the entire weekend.”

She was right. Why hadn’t Sam thought of that earlier? She snatched up the photo of Liam, tucked it into a drawer, and turned toward the window. Snow flurries were falling, muffling the sound of the city, somehow calming her heart a little.

“Wait until after the gallery opening,” Renee suggested. “It will be better that way. For everyone.”

14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

January

Seven Months Earlier

New York

Visionsof a little blond boy haunted Samantha’s dreams that night. By seven A.M., her alarm screamed into the quiet room, forcing her to the edge of the bed, where she sat staring at Liam’s photo.

She glanced at it again ten hours later, on her way back from Midtown on the subway. The gallery opening was a coupleof hours away, and she couldn’t tell if her body vibrated with the hum of the rails or her own nerves.

Tonight, she would drink, dance, and celebrate with the people she loved most.

Later, when she and Tristan were alone for the first time in weeks, she would tell him everything she knew about his father. Although nervous, she believed in her soul that he would understand, that he would want to help, that he would put his hurt aside and help his little brother.

Samantha stood as the train slowed, holding onto the handrails as she moved toward the exit. Her hair appointment had taken longer than she’d expected, and Tristan’s flight was due within the hour.

Determined not to panic, she pushed toward the exit. Inch by inch she made it through the crowd and out of the terminal. Crisp air met her lungs when she made it to the street, but she didn’t stop.

She reached her building five minutes later completely breathless, finding security standing at the door. She shot up a hand, gained Mr. Covington's attention, and the guard let her inside.

“Sorry I’m late—” she said to Mr. Covington, “I had no idea it would take that long.”

His warm smile quieted her as he placed one hand on her shoulder. “Go get ready, girl, your fans are waiting for you.”

She paused for a moment, absorbing his words as she glanced back over her shoulder. A line of patrons was already forming outside. There were hundreds of people on the sidewalk ... in part forher. Her heart skipped a beat, and she glanced back at Mr. Covington.

He had a twinkle in his eye, like a proud grandpa at his grandchild's first piano recital. “Go!” he said as he shoved her toward the steps.“You deserve this.”

She didn’t hesitate, bounding up the steps two at a time, each second stretching into an eternity as she rushed toward the living room.

“Where’ve you been?” Margaret asked from the kitchen. “I was about to send a search party after you.”

“My stylist was running late,” Samantha said in a panic. She stopped scrambling, finally taking in her roommate's appearance for the first time. Margaret, who normally wore overalls, combat boots, and little to no makeup, was wearing afloor length emerald gown that reminded Sam of a mermaid. Peter, who could pass for feral on most days, wore a solid black suit with a magenta-colored silk-tie. His curly mane unkempt like always, yet somehow looked impeccable.

Seeing them like this breathed life into Samantha and emotion climbed up her throat.

This night signified so much—it gave meaning to everything they had sacrificed to be there and purpose to all the nights they had lain awake, riddled with self-doubt. They’d been working toward this night for five months, five months of blood, sweat, and tears, but they’d finally made it.

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