“Hey,” he says.

“You’re shirtless,” the female voice says. Is it Sabrina? “I like you shirtless.”

“You two, please wait until I’m gone,” a second female voice says. It might be Sam’s mom, but I’m not sure. “I just wanted to say good night. I’m going to my room. Good to talk to you, Sabrina. Seeing you two together is just . . . I haven’t been this happy in years.”

Sam says good night, and the door opens and closes again.

“I thought you were already on the plane,” Sam says.

“We’re leaving in an hour,” Sabrina says. “I’m heading up to Erin’s room now, and I wanted make sure you don’t want to come with us.”

“I told you, I need to work.”

She sighs heavily. “Okay. Take these back to your place for me?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll talk when I get back.”

I wish I could see him. I want to see how he looks at her when no one else is watching. I want to know if he’s touching her.

“What’s that?” Sabrina asks.

“What?”

“You smell . . . you smell like perfume. Women’s perfume.”

“I’m sure I do. We danced all night.”

The silence stretches for a long time, and again, I curse being stuck in this bathroom.

“I don’t trust many people, Sam,” Sabrina finally says. “And I’ve chosen to trust you. Please don’t break my heart.”

Then there’s nothing but the click and thunk of the hotel room door closing.

I back away from the door, and seconds later, Sam’s opening it, his eyes on the ground.

“Sorry.” The word is so quiet I almost don’t hear it. He’s still not looking at me.

“About which part? The sex, or your girlfriend interrupting us?”

“I should never have touched you tonight. It was a mistake.”

My stomach claws its way up into my chest. “A mistake?” But of course it was. My gaze bounces around the room like a bird trying to find an open window, and it lands on a stack of women’s clothes, neatly folded on a chair. A cry slips from my lips as I walk toward it. She changed here. “You’re really with her.” Of course he is. He never said otherwise, did he? I wanted to believe it was a sham, so I let him touch me. Let him fuck me.

He grabs my hand as I’m reaching for her shirt. “Liz, please.”

I’m such a fool. Such a complete, naive fool. “You never said . . .”

“Isn’t that how you prefer your men? Already attached?”

A fist in the solar plexus. “Fuck. You.”

He flinches, but who cares? I’m out of here.

“Liz, stop. Just . . . please don’t go. I crossed the line.”

Hand on the door handle, I bow my head and swallow hard. “You did.”

When I turn, his face is tilted up and he’s rubbing his eyes with his palms. He drops his hands.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know exactly what I’m apologizing for—or to whom. I close my eyes. They’re useless words. This is what we’ve come to. Sam and I—a concept that held so much promise five months ago—have nothing more for each other than aimless anger and impotent apologies.

“Me too,” he whispers. I see it in his eyes—that trapped look. Not the panicked look of a caged animal, but the misery of someone resigned to his shitty fate.

“If you’re with her, really with her, not just fucking her, I deserve to know.” My mind is at war—the conversation I just heard doesn’t make sense in the context of the story I’ve been telling myself.

“Please don’t break my heart.”

“This wasn’t your fault. What happened here, that’s on me.” He takes my face in his hands, his thumbs running along the length of my jaw. “But I don’t think you and I should be around each other. I lose my head when you’re close.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just cheat on your girlfriend with me.” Hot tears roll down my cheeks. I feel cheap. Like dirt. The lowest kind of scum.

He drops his hands, and the loss of his warm touch makes my whole body go cold. “You should go.”

“Sam? Please.”

“It was a mistake, Liz. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Chapter 9

Sam

“I can’t do this.”

Sabrina is sitting on the couch in Erin’s suite, her legs crossed, her arms wrapped around her waist. She’s not stupid. She knew I had someone in the bathroom and that’s why she said the line about breaking her heart—she knew someone would hear her little show. From the look on her face you would have thought I betrayed an actual relationship with her, and not a pretend one. As soon as I got out of there, I came to the campaign manager’s suite.

“Can’t do what?” Erin asks. “Can’t keep it in your pants? You’ve made that clear.”

“I can’t pretend I’m with her.” I point to Sabrina, and she flinches. I soften my voice. “I’m sorry.” I lost my head having Liz so close to me after months of missing her desperately, and I’d been too busy getting off to say what I should have said. And then Sabrina showed up with my mother, and I realized I wasn’t just putting my and Sabrina’s secret at risk by having Liz there—I was risking hurting my mother all over again too.