Page 69 of Tempt

“Sam and I talked about it. And he told me about his family. I know how much he dislikes secrets, and how much he values you. I wanted to clear the air, because I love him more than I ever thought possible.”

“He feels the same way, I can see it.” She brushes her hand against her cheek, leaving a smear of paint.

When I point it out, she laughs. “I’m a mediocre painter, you know that? All of my pieces that have sold well have been sculpture. But I keep trying to make this good. I want to be good atthis, and it frustrates me that I’m not.”

“That’s me and poetry.” I reach into my bag and pull out the book I brought with me. “Speaking of which. Here. This is for you.”

She stops moving—and it’s only then that I realize she was moving the whole time. Her stillness is jarring, different. New. Then she inhales, sharply, and crosses to a sink on the wall. She takes her time washing her hands, then drying them, and the care in both actions hits me straight in the chest.

I came here to apologize, and she’s treating my book—that few people in the world have ever cared about—with the utmost honour.

“It’s really fine,” I mutter. “It’s just a chapbook.”

She takes it and runs her finger over my pen name. “This is you?”

“Yep.” It’s my first poetry collection. Twenty-four pages, a narrow little bundle of dreams. “One of them is about Sam.”

She presses it to her chest. “I love that.”

Me, too. “Now you have a bit of my work. Proof that I’ve been in the muck?”

She laughs. “I think that proof was when you showed up. It was a very un-Preston thing to do.”

“To confess my weaknesses?”

Her eyebrows raise in acknowledgement, even as she tries to keep her face straight. Tries and fails. “Yes.”

“We’re all imperfect and just doing our best.”

Her face falls, just for a second, then she fixes a smile in place instead. In that moment, I understand Sam’s protectiveness towards her.

“Grace, I’m in town all week. Do you want to have lunch one day? Or…many days? I liked the walk over here.”

22

Sam

Over dinner that night,Hazel tells me she has decided not to go back to Stratford mid-week. “If you’re going to come and work remotely for a week or two, I might hang out here until you’re ready to come back with me.”

“That’s great. What made you change your mind?”

“I went to see Grace today. I want to spend more time with her, and you, here. When you come to my house, it’s an escape. But I don’t want to just help you escape. I want to be with you here, in the mess of real life.”

I glance around my rather nice loft.

“You know what I mean!” She laughs.

“I do. And I appreciate it. In fact, as a thank you, I was wondering if you had another fantasy you might want me to indulge. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

As if it’s any kind of hardship. “Oh, yeah.”

“I have a lot of Sam fantasies.”

“Name them.”

She sits up a little straighter. “Can I be your secretary for a day?”

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