Page 10 of Shame

I’ve brought food, so I head to the kitchen, and as I set the takeout on the counter, something catches my eye. A VIP card for The Wheelhouse.Sam?Dirty boy.

He’s right behind me, telling Hazel he has to go, as I hold up the card.

He groans. “Yep, totally fine. It’s just Grace nosing in my private business. Give me five minutes to kick her out and then I’m all yours again.”

I laugh at him. “You didn’t need to end the call on my account.”

He glowers. “What are you doing here?”

“Feeding you.”

“I have food.”

Ouch. “Feeding myself in your presence because Luke is working late, and I was lonely, then.”

“Ah.” But he looks at his phone, and I realize belatedly that I’m not welcome right now. Crap.

I should go. I don’t, because I’m feeling small and sad inside. I put on a brave face. “Call her back. I don’t care if you’re busy, I just like the hum of another person in my space.”

Then I look down at the card. Maybe if we both laugh about it… “The Wheelhouse, eh? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

“You can’t do this,” he bursts out.

I drop the card on the counter.

“I know you mean well, and I love you for it, but…I was talking to my girlfriend. That card…is because I want togo therewith my girlfriend. You can’t just waltz into my house and make this awkward for me!”

Fuck. Fuck. I’m shaking as I nod. “Of course.”

“Grace…”

“No, I get it. I’ll take my food and go to the studio instead. There are usually people there all night.”

He makes a face. “I’ve gone about this poorly.”

“Probably,” I whisper. “But is there a right way to remind someone they’re tromping on boundaries? Maybe not. It’s fine. I’ll go, and I’ll text next time I’m looking for dinner company.”

I grab the food and head for the door, my pulse pounding loud in my ears.

I’m an idiot. If Sam wants to go to a kink club, that’s his personal business. Most people don’t have the same openness around sex that I do—hell, Luke doesn’t, of course his brother wouldn’t.

The elevator comes quickly, and I keep my head down as I sweep across the lobby of his building.

I’m nearly to my car when I hear Sam shout behind me.

I stop and turn back.

He jogs to a stop in front of me. “I’m sorry, I reacted badly. Do you want to come back upstairs? Or do you want company at the studio?”

There’s something in the way he says it, like I could maybe ask him for anything, that I try again, my second attempt to impress a Preston man today. “Actually, I want to show you something. If you’re game?”

And because he’s awesome, he gives me a broad grin and tells me to take him anywhere I want to go—which is an art gallery on the edge of the fashion district.

The parking spot right in front is free, so I slide into it. Then I swallow around the sharp bundle of nerves in my throat and tell him my news.

“I’m going to have a show here next month. I told Luke about it today, and he said, and I quote, ‘As long as my name isn’t attached to it.’ Can you believe him?”

Sam makes a face like, yes, he totally can believe that about his brother. “I’m sorry.”

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