Page 48 of Fauxmance in the City

“You don’t understand. You’re beloved by all.”

Sam laughed heartily. “Are you fucking kidding me? There’s a Facebook group dedicated to bashing my magazine, including me.”

“That’s awful!” I said.

“It’s wonderful. That’s how popular the magazine is. It has a hate page.”

I pouted. “I don’t want a hate page.”

Until yesterday, I’d never witnessed backlash for anything I’d written. But then I criticized an up-and-coming designer who was using way too many clashing patterns in their work. Little did I know this designer had a loyal and fierce following, and they began trolling the comments of not just that article, but all my articles. And my email. And my social media pages. Every minute there was a new scathing remark.

“I should apologize.” I hugged the pillow.

“Never apologize.” Sam narrowed his gaze, driving his point home. “Have you changed your opinion of that designer?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Integrity is more important than pandering to a few angry trolls.”

My eyes widened, and I was horrified when tears pricked the corners.

“I didn’t mean…” Sam faltered, realizing his error. My career had no integrity. “You try your best to be honest, despite the corner you’ve painted yourself in. I know there’s a bit of Wizard of Oz going on, but there’s actually a person—Natalie—behind your curtain who has given you her blessing. You’re not stealing from her. She gives you the content willingly, and the content itself isn’t a lie.”

I sat up, grabbed the box of tissues next to me, and swiped my eyes.

“You’re right.” I sniffed. Sam always knew how to make me feel better. “I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it feels so personal.”

Sam’s phone buzzed, and I glanced at the text that popped up. It was from Francine, the woman he’d been dating for over a month. It was a record since I’d met him.

“How’s that going?” I asked, ignoring the jealous clench in my belly. It was a new thing, and I didn’t want to acknowledge that the pesky butterflies meant anything more than a silly crush that would soon pass. After three years of working with Sam and his constancy in my life, I’d accepted that he was a good man who did a bad thing to Beth, but that didn’t mean I wanted to test the theory.

“It’s early days,” was his response. “Nothing serious yet.”

My belly unclenched. Traitorous organ.

“I have to go.” He stood.

My eyes scanned his gray athletic pants and the black T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places. I bit the heel of my hand, resisting a moan.

“You’ll be okay?” he asked.

“Natalie’s taking me out tonight.”

“Good.” He smiled, his gaze lingering. He was doing that more often these days, like he was searching for something in my eyes.

“Sam, you—” I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, giddiness circling my belly. “Thank you. For everything. You surprised me.”

His smile dropped. “A good surprise?”

“The best,” I said.

We stared at each other. Lost in his sapphire eyes, my heart expanded. Everything in the office was sucked into a vacuum, and it was only Sam and me. There was a softness under all his slick charm, and I wanted to claw him open and see everything he held back.

Sam exhaled jaggedly, and I bit my lip, both of us responding to the shift.

The phone on my desk trilled, slicing into the moment.

“Have fun tonight,” Sam said, breaking his gaze and stepping away.

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