I pull on my robe, and I’m halfway to the kitchen to refill my glass when I hear the phone ring. I could ignore it. He’d just talked me to the best solo orgasm I’ve had in my life and I’d hardly recovered when Sabrina was suddenly there.

I’m being irrational. Of course she’s there. That’s why he’s in New York, right? But why is she in his room?

I can’t resist getting the answers I need, so I run to the bathroom to grab the phone, answering it right before it would go to voicemail. “Hello.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize Sabrina had gotten out of the tub.”

Out of the tub. So. Fucking. Intimate. “I wonder if she’s as innocent in all of this as you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. You’re sharing a room? You’re in New York with her for the second time this week, parading around like a happy couple.”

“That was kind of the deal, Liz. I thought you understood.”

“It’s just . . .” I have no idea how to articulate what I’m feeling, probably because I can’t seem to identify the emotions for myself. Jealousy and envy, because his family would welcome her with open arms, but also something else. Something about this whole arrangement seems off. I don’t trust her.

“It’s just what?” He sighs, and I hear a knocking on his side of the line.

“It feels convenient.”

“The press will find out if we sleep in separate rooms,” he says. “We figured it wouldn’t be a big deal to share a room tonight.”

That would have been nice to know before he played phone-sex operator. “Connor warned me about her. I think you should be careful.”

“Connor? Why were you talking to my asshole brother-in-law about Sabrina?”

“He was trying to warn me,” I say too loudly. I don’t want to fight, and I’ve already said too much. Bringing up Connor is bound to make Sam upset, and Sabrina’s conveniently there, trying to get his attention. “I thought you were alone.” I even imagined him in bed, stroking his cock as he said those things to me. The idea was half of what got me off so quickly. “You don’t need to stay on the phone with me. Go ahead and go. Sleep well.” With Sabrina.

“I’m not sleeping with her.” He gives a heavy sigh, as if he’s completely exasperated. With me, or the situation?

“Is it really my business if you are?” I shout. I throw my hand over my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut. I sound crazed and irrational.

“It is,” Sam says. “It’s your business because you’re the one I love.” His sigh fills the line again. “Tell me what you want me to do. If you want me to come home tonight, I’ll do it. I’ll find a way. I’ll find an excuse to give the press. I can’t stand the idea of hurting you. Tell me what you want me to do.”

But I can’t have what I want when what I want is for him to leave without me having to tell him. “Sleep well, Sam. I’ll see you . . .” When? Why? “I’ll see you when I see you.”

Chapter 21

Sam

“I love you,” I whisper, but Liz has already disconnected the call. I slam my fist into the door, and pain shoots up my arm. Fuck. I need a drink.

When I get out of the bathroom, Sabrina’s dressed in a silky robe and her hair is dry.

“Who was on the phone?” she asks.

I rub the back of my neck. I’m not sure it’s fair to keep my relationship a secret from Sabrina, but I don’t exactly want to share either. “A friend.”

She crosses her arms and lifts her chin. “Let me guess—Elizabeth Thompson?”

“Yeah.”

“You trust her?”

Well, there’s a question. Five months ago, I would have said no, but I never would have admitted the truth about the video to her if I believed she’d hurt Christine or me with it. “Yeah, I do.”

“You told her the truth?”

“She figured it out on her own.”

She studies me for a few beats then shakes her head. “I don’t know about you, but this room is already feeling claustrophobic. I’m going to get dressed and head down to the bar. Want to join me?”

I’d rather let her go to the bar while I call Liz back, but I’m pretty sure Liz has heard enough from me for one night. “Sure. I could use a drink.” I close my eyes and hear Liz saying, “I’ll see you when I see you.” “Or twelve.”

* * *

Liz

Instead of refilling my wine, I get dressed, pull my hair into a ponytail, and drive to New Hope. When I get to town, I pull over and rest my head on the wheel. It’s nearly ten. I know Hanna would be thrilled to see me, but she doesn’t know what’s going on between Sam and me, and I don’t think Sam would want me to tell her. He doesn’t want me to tell anyone.

I text Nix.

Liz: Where are you?

Nix: I’m home. What’s going on?

I pull back onto the road and go straight to her place. I haven’t talked to her since she stormed out after my night with Sam. I know Sam wants me to lie to her, but I won’t do that. It’s hard enough to keep the truth from Hanna. I need someone to talk to, and since Nix already knows more than anyone else, she’s my best bet.

Nix came to New Hope a couple of years ago and recently bought and renovated a big house in town.

I love the house—a Cape Cod in a sunny yellow with a wraparound porch—and when I pull into the drive, I take a minute to look at it. It’s the kind of house that screams home. I can imagine opening a bottle of wine and spending my night bitching to her about my relationship—or lack thereof—with Sam.