Page 94 of Trip Me Up

34

SAM

Mother would’ve diedof embarrassment if she could’ve seen me.

I mean, my black gown was suitable. Mother had sent it to me herself for some Jones Foundation function a few years ago. Even my shoes were the toe-pinching, ankle-turning, heel-numbing style she approved.

It was the bag. The one that broke the line of the dress, that dug into my shoulder and left a red gouge in it, that occasionally wiggled on its own.

I couldn’t come all the way out to Vegas and leave Bilbo Baggins behind.

Okay, fine. I hadn’t brought him for his sake. I’d done it for mine.

I couldn’t sit there and smile when they announcedMagician in the Machineas a nominee for Best First Book. Because what I’d learned during the tour, in my time with Niall, was that books were art. And technology—my technology, CASE—had no business replacing the work of an artist like Niall. I’d wronged him and every other writer, every person in that room who loved books. Then I’d lied about it.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

I shouldn’t have come. I should have spent tonight, like I’d spent every day and night for the past month, working on CASE 2.0, trying to get it to produce scientific papers like we’d originally intended it. Though three days ago, when I’d suggested to Dr. Martell that I rewrite my dissertation to refer only to CASE 2.0, even if it delayed my degree by another year, he’d said there was no need. And to be sure I preserved the original code.

The next day, I’d keep working to change his mind. But I’d promised that night to Niall.

It was selfish, I knew, to see him again. But as much as I’d initially resisted, as much as I’d wanted to end things neatly with the tour, I couldn’t. I had to see him once more. To touch him. To steal a few more moments of happiness before I locked away all those feelings forever.

I pulled my nominee ticket from one of the outside pockets of my bag and handed it to the woman at the table outside the ballroom.

She smiled at me. “Love your dress. Table Three, right up front.”

I couldn’t return her smile. “Thanks.”

“Would you like to check your bag?” She nodded at the booth on the other side of the ballroom door.

“No, thanks.” I strode toward the door, the bag bumping against my hip.

A wall of a man in a tux stepped in front of me, arms crossed. His chest was twice as broad as me. If I’d stretched out my arms, they wouldn’t have met at his back. Not that I would’ve dared to try it.

“Ma’am, I need to see inside your bag.”

I willed Bilbo Baggins to stay still. I needed him as my excuse to leave the ceremony. As soon as the category forMagicianwas announced, I’d ensure Bilbo needed a trip outside.

“No, you don’t.”

His face wasn’t unkind, but his jaw was firm. “I do, ma’am. Last year, one of the horror writers brought in a bucket of blood. We had to replace the carpets.”

I laughed, a high, anxious trill. “No blood here. See?” I squeezed the side of the bag to show it was flexible. Bilbo Baggins let out a grunt.

The Wall’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s full of…feminine care products. Riding the red wave, you know. My ultra-supers don’t fit into one of those tiny evening bags.” I gripped the bag closer. His jaw twitched.

“Sam!”

Striding toward me, his red hair flaming over everyone else in the ballroom, was Niall.

I’d seen him in a suit before. Ten months ago at the fundraiser in San Francisco. But tonight he wore a tux. Smooth black lines over his muscular frame, shiny shoes, crisp, white shirt. And a silk bow tie snug under his chin. I could spot the sheen of it from twenty feet away. When I dared to look at his face, that wide grin and those crinkled eyes beaming straight at me, my ankles wobbled in my pinchy heels.

My black silk dress with its spaghetti straps and low draped neckline showed too much skin. Anyone would be able to see through it to my heart beating frantically as a trapped bird. Discreetly as possible, I wiped my sweaty palms on the outside of my bag.

Niall took one look at The Wall and his crossed arms. “She’s a VIP. I’ll be responsible if there’s an issue.”

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