Page 93 of Breaking You Open

“Scary hot,” Sam says with a grin. He lets go of the champagne bottle to instead wrap his arms around my neck.

I nod toward the living room. “Wasn’t she going to break up with him?”

Sam frowns. “I don’t know.”

“And I thought you were done being her friend.”

He sighs into my chest. “I’m not her friend. Not really.”

“Maybe you should tell her that.”

He lets out a quiet groan that vibrates into my skin. “I will. Someday, I promise. It’s just…I think she needs me.”

“I remember someone else who needed you, once upon a time. You remember what we did tohim, right?”

Sam slaps my chest, scandalized. “Louis! She doesn’t deserve what he got.”

“Maybe not,” I say with a grin, and Sam grins back.

I should let him off the hook; he knows more about these things than I do, after all. My boy, my Sam, who despite what he’s been through wants the best for everyone and sees the good in everybody. It’s a tightrope for him to walk, I suppose—to recognize his own worth while not compromising his sympathetic nature.

Lilith will be all right, and even if she won’t, it won’t be Sam’s fault. He can set boundaries without being unkind, and if he asks me to help him, I will, but at the same time, I should have faith he’ll come to the same conclusion on his own. And I do. He’s wise, after all.

“How about him?” I nod to Asher, who’s dancing with Lilith in the living room. His blond locks bounce madly as he head bangs to a rock song with a distant smile, as if he’s somewhere far away, dreaming. Lilith grabs onto him and kisses him hard, transferring her black lipstick to his mouth.

“What about him?” Sam asks.

“Thought you said he cheated on her.”

Sam frowns. “I guess she gave him a second chance.”

“And you think Lilith seems like the kind of person to forgive and forget?”

His frown deepens, and he makes a move toward the living room. “Maybe we should keep an eye on them.”

I stop him with a grip on his waist. “I’d rather keep an eye on you.”

Sam grins and reaches to kiss me, and I wrap my arms tighter around him. I have to force myself to keep our ensuing make-out session brief and discreet, lest Maurice and Joshua barge in here and accuse me of neglecting work again. Otherwise, I would have lifted my boy onto the kitchen counter and claimed his mouth the way he deserves, and the way he’s always desperate for.

When I break the kiss, Sam’s lips are as pink as his cheeks. He opens his mouth to say something, but then his blush deepens, and he looks away. I would press him for what he was about to say, but it’s time I stop neglecting my duties.

A few hours later, it’s a minute to midnight. Fireworks are already going off like crazy, and most of the guests are outside, anticipating the countdown. It’s a good thing Nathan Antler stole that dog; it would’ve gone mad in this chaos.

Sam slides up next to me and grabs my hand, his mitten cool and soft against my skin. “Louis?”

“Yes?” I keep my eyes in front, looking out for any disturbances. Ten feet away from us, the crowd is chatting away, and Ravi is refilling a glass of champagne for a woman with high heels that sink deep into the snow. “What is it, boy?”

“Will you marry me?” Sam blurts out.

I turn my head to look down at him, and for several seconds, all I do is stare.

Sam squeezes my hand. “Well?” he asks, an anxious tilt to his voice.

I clear my throat. “Well…Do you have a ring?”

“Oh, um, yes.” He rummages around in his pocket and comes up with a small velvet box. “I don’t know if this will fit, because it’s kind of small, and your fingers are…well, not.”

The ring is made of silver, or titanium maybe, with intricate black patterns swirling around the outer edges. I try to press it onto my ring finger, but I only manage to get it past the first knuckle.

---