Page 62 of The Love Lie
“What are you even saying?”
“Sam.”
“Winnie.”
“Sam.”
“Uldwyna.”
“Don’t you dare full name me, Samantha Rose Peters. Just because you’re being a bullheaded ass doesn’t mean I can’t point out the obvious. Everything you just said is exactly how you’ve been living for the past three years. The only thing that’s new is Cooper.”
“Well, andhe who shall not be named. He starts next week.”
“Please. Spencerwisheshe was on the same level as Voldemort. Don’t give him that much credit. And you’re so over him anyway. Don’t even try to use that as an excuse.”
“I’m not.”
Winnie frowns at her pointedly.
Sam rolls her eyes. “I’mnot.”
And she means it. This isn’t abouthim. Fucking Spencer Winthrop. Of course his dad pulled some strings. Of course he got hired based on zero credentials. Of course he’s starting at the same salary level as her even though he spent the past yeartravelingafter getting fired from his first banking job. She knows she’s better than him—at her job, at life, at being a functioning human being with actual emotions. Sure, she loathes the idea of seeing him every day, but she’ll never let himget the best of her. And she’ll be damned if she lets his presence affect her career. But though she hates to admit it, while she’s long over him, she’s not sure she’ll ever fully get over the way he made her feel.
Charity case.
Pity lay.
She hasn’t cried in front of a man since she walked out his door—not until Cooper. Her heart aches whenever she thinks about the way he cradled her in his arms and carried her to the shower to wash away her tears, understanding without words exactly what she needed. No derision. No shame. No judgment. Just tenderness. Just compassion. Just…
Sam blinks away the memory and rubs at her chest.
“Like I said, the Cooper of it all,” Winnie comments triumphantly.
“You don’t even know what I was thinking.”
“I know you were thinking about him. You’re like the heart-eye emoji come to life right now.”
Sam throws another pillow at her head.
“Hey! Don’t shoot the—”
A blaring alarm cuts through the living room. Winnie scrunches up her face, looking around for the source of the noise. Sam doesn’t need to. She knows exactly what it is. Simple as that, her shit attitude disappears, replaced by an embarrassing surge of elation as she dives for her phone. Finally.Finally.She’s been waiting two weeks for this call, this one lingering connection to the Maldives and everything that happened there, this tiny smidgen of hope whispering that maybe it isn’t completely over after all.
It is.
It has to be.
But maybe, just maybe, it isn’t.
Sam digs through her purse as her phone continues screeching with the unmissable ringtone she assigned a very specific number, the one labeled as a priority contact and set to override herDo Not Disturb. As she slides her thumb across the screen to accept the call, her stomach leaps into her throat, as if she’s in a full-fledged free fall, not sitting on her couch.
She swallows once to steady her voice. “Nina.”
“Sam.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I said I’d call. This is my call.”
