by Louise Bay
“I just want to make sure you have a perfect evening.” My mother’s voice wobbled, as it always did when she wanted people to feel sorry for her. It had stopped working on me a long time ago.
“I really don’t mind,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.
“Come on, Sylvia. Let’s leave Grace to get to work,” my father said. “We’ll have a lovely time. It’s the company that counts. Will we see you there, Mr. Shaw?”
Had my father picked up on something personal between us? I kissed my dad on the cheek. “Have a great time. I have to go.” I turned back to the elevator and vigorously pushed the up button.
Luckily, Sam was polite enough to just grin in response to my father’s question. The doors opened and I dipped inside, indicating with a sharp tip of my head for Sam to follow.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Astor,” he called, following me into the elevator.
He cornered me as the doors closed. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” he said, his fingers wrapping around my waist, his breath on my cheek.
“It’s not,” I whispered, my body suddenly weak from being so close to him.
He pulled back to look at me and shook his head. “Next week is, and you didn’t tell me.”
Is that what we did now? We hadn’t discussed how things stood between us. I was looking for him to acknowledge that things were different between us.
“It’s just going to be a few friends and family. You can come if you like.”
“I like,” he said, kissing my neck.
“It will probably be boring.”
“I don’t care.”
“Is this what we do now?” I asked. Were we a couple? I wanted him to tell me.
“Is what what we do?” He ran his nose along my jaw and I tipped my head and pushed my hips against him.
“Invite each other to things. Introduce each other to our friends. Are we doing that stuff?” My words were punctuated by pauses while I enjoyed his fingers, his lips, his warmth.
“Yeah, we’re doing that stuff,” he replied as the elevator doors pinged open at his floor. He straightened, grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the car. “We’re doing all the stuff.”
I pressed my lips together, trying hard to disguise my smile. We were doing this.
Sam
“Her mother was wearing a coat when I ran into them. Mink by the look of it,” I said to Angie as we walked through Bergdorf Goodman, looking for a birthday present for Grace. I had no idea what Grace would like so I’d enlisted Angie’s help.
“How do you know what kind of fur it was?”
“Because I do. She grew up in that building. We’re so different.” I liked Grace. To anyone else, saying that they liked a woman wouldn’t be a big deal. But for me, I never really considered whether I liked someone or not—it didn’t matter. It wasn’t just that she was good in bed or that she was so beautiful it left me breathless, I actually liked spending time with her. But because that was such an unusual reaction, it led to questions—why did I like her? Would I feel the same next Thursday?
“Why do you care?” Angie asked.
I’d observed the successful before becoming successful, learning their mannerisms, their speech patterns, so when I got there I didn’t stand out. Through trial and error and practice, I’d learned to associate with the well-heeled. I wasn’t born one of them, but Grace had been.
We were from different worlds. Could people from contrasting backgrounds really like each other?
I followed Angie as she scanned shelves and displays, picking up things and putting them down.
“What about a scarf? Those Upper East Side girls love a neckerchief.” Angie laughed, holding up a silky scarf with orange streaks in it. She wasn’t wrong. I just wasn’t sure Grace was a typical Upper East Side girl.
“Don’t scrunch up your face like it’s made of dog shit—it’s a seven-hundred-dollar scarf,” Angie said, putting it back on the shelf.
“It’s not right,” I replied.
“Is she not a neckerchief kind of gal?” she asked as we moved toward some glass cabinets holding wallets.
I’d never seen Grace in a scarf. I’d never really thought about what she was wearing beyond how it showed off her body. “I don’t think so.”
Despite our differences, I found myself wanting more of Grace. More of her time, more of her body. I craved her thoughts on everyday things. I wanted to watch the way she blinked, slower and slower, as she climbed toward orgasm. I knew that she had an unaffected belly laugh and a polite, rehearsed smile. Even now, I was thinking about her when I should be paying attention to Angie. I was following Grace deeper along a dark corridor, not knowing what lay at the end. But I couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn back.
“Who uses a passport holder?” Angie asked, peering over the glass cabinet. “So what’s she like, this girl who has you buying her gifts?”
“She doesn’t have me buying her gifts.” I wandered around the row of cabinets. There was nothing here for Grace. “She invited me to her birthday. It’s polite to bring a present.” Grace wasn’t interested in my money. If she wanted to be with someone wealthy, she wouldn’t have a history of dating penniless artists or be working in a gallery she’d financed herself. “She’s not like that.”
“Okay, Mr. Sensitive. You have to admit that this is a watershed moment. You’ve never agonized over buying a woman a gift before.”
“I’m not agonizing,” I said. “I just want to get something that will suit her.”
“Then tell me what she’s like. Maybe that will give us some ideas.”
“She’s nice.” I shrugged and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Funny. Passionate about what she does.”
“And when you say, ‘what she does’, you mean she does you passionately.” Angie wiggled her eyebrows.
It should have been amusing, but it didn’t sit right with me for some reason. “Don’t say that.”
“Jesus. Calm down. I’m making a joke. You’ve got it bad, my friend.” She turned and walked left toward some other stands full of useless crap.
I caught up with her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I just want to find this present and get out of here. You know I hate places like this.” It was true that shopping wasn’t my thing and I didn’t want Angie to get things out of proportion and think my dating Grace was anything more than it was.
She shrugged. “Fine. But there are plenty of pretty things here, Sam. You just need to pick one.”
But I couldn’t get just anything. When I’d taken Grace to the Frick, she’d seemed so happy with my choice, and I wanted to create that same look on her face. “I took her to the Frick for dinner on our first date and she seemed to like that. Maybe I could do something like that again? Rather than a gift.”
Angie pulled her eyebrows. “What, like you took her to the visitor café?”
“No. I hired the place out on a Saturday night. We took in the paintings and had a nice dinner in one of the rooms.”
When Angie didn’t respond, I glanced back to see if she was listening, but she was just staring at me, her mouth slightly open as if I’d told her I was going to buy the Empire State building. “What?” I asked.
“You hired out the entire Frick?”
“Yes.”
“For your first date?”
Had she not heard me correctly? “Yes. And she seemed to like it so—”
Angie snorted. “I bet she did. That’s the stuff of fairytales. You really like this girl.” She grinned so wide her face looked like it was cracking in half.
I started to head toward the door, but Angie caught up with me and shoved my shoulder. “Sam,” she said, still grinning. “You really like this girl. The Frick? That’s serious shit.”
“It’s no big deal. I just thought she’d like it and I didn’t want to be bothered by the crowds.”
“It is so a big deal. That’s the kind of shit a guy pulls when he’s in deep.”
I pushed the
door open and stepped out onto the street. “Well, I’m not in deep. You know me.”
“I do,” Angie said from behind me. “That’s why it’s so exciting. I think you may be falling in love.” She squealed, which, added to her ludicrous ramblings, was more than irritating.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I turned north, not sure where I was heading. Angie followed, pulling her jacket tighter.
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s wonderful, Sam. I thought it may never happen. I’m so glad because it’s such an amazing feeling—you deserve all the happiness.”
I squinted at the sun that persisted despite the cold. “It’s nothing like that. Don’t get too excited. We’re just hanging out.”
“I can’t wait to tell Chas. And the four of us can go on dates.”
“Angie. Seriously, stop. I need to find a gift and you’re being no help.” I didn’t want to buy Grace something just for the sake of it. She knew how little value I placed on material things. So if I bought her something expensive but impersonal, she’d know it didn’t mean anything, that I hadn’t given it any thought.
“Promise me I won’t lose you.” Angie stopped walking and grabbed at my coat sleeve. “I love my husband. He’s a good man and we can talk about everything.” Her eyes went a little glassy. “But what you and I went through can’t be understood by anyone who hasn’t experienced it.” I knew what she meant. Chas knew the Angie who’d survived, not the girl who’d had to get there. I just didn’t understand why she thought she’d lose me.
“What are you talking about? I’ve not been able to shake you so far.”
“I mean it, Sam. What if Grace and I don’t get along? We won’t be able to spend so much time together; we’ll gradually lose contact.”
I held Angie’s shoulders. “You’re being crazy. I’m not in love with Grace and you and I will be friends until the end of time.”
“I can’t lose you.” Her gaze dropped to the ground. “I want you to be happy, but I want to be a part of that.”
I pinned her arms to her body and brought her close. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“You’re hugging me,” Angie said. “I’ve known you fifteen years and you’ve never hugged me.”
“Just go with it.”
She stood limply, me wrapped around her. “I will never leave you,” I said. “You will never lose me.”
And I wasn’t in love with Grace Astor.
Chapter Fifteen
Grace
I kept glancing at the doorway to the Four Seasons, hoping to find Sam. I’d asked him to bring Angie and her husband. Apparently her husband was busy but Sam and Angie were going to make it. It would be the first time I’d meet her, and I was nervous. I knew how much he valued her opinion. How she seemed to be the only person he listened to. If she didn’t like me, then what? Would it affect Sam and me? It had been a little over a week since he’d told me about his parents’ deaths, but I’d seen or spoken to him every day since and things were going so well, I just wanted Angie to give us her seal of approval.
“Is he here yet?” Harper asked from behind me.
I peeled my gaze away from the entrance. “No. You’ll know when you see him. How’s the baby?”
“The baby’s a baby. She doesn’t do much. I want to hear about Sam. Is he the first man you’ve dated with a real job? Does he know what to do with his tongue?”
“You know we’re in public, right?” I asked.
She shrugged as her husband, Max, and her sister-in-law, Scarlett, joined us. “Happy birthday,” Max said, kissing me on the cheek.
“Thank you.”
“Happy birthday,” Sam said from behind me. I shivered. Had I ever known a man whose voice could make my whole body react? With just four syllables, Sam had made my nipples hard and my knees weak. I looked over my shoulder just as his hand slipped around my waist. He grinned at me and kissed me on the lips.
We were really doing this.
And for the first time I wasn’t making sure my boyfriend wasn’t checking out other girls or annoying my friends.
He broke our kiss and pulled back. “You look beautiful.” He grazed his thumb across my cheekbone, not even glancing at what I was wearing, just pulling me toward him so we were thigh against hip. “I’m Sam,” he said to the group, “and this is Angie Jenkins.” I hadn’t seen the blonde girl next to him—when Sam was around, all I could focus on was him.
“Angie, hi,” I said and tried to pull away to greet her, but Sam kept me pressed firmly against his side.
After everyone introduced themselves, we made our way to the long dinner table. I’d invited forty-two people. Some family. Some friends. I hadn’t wanted a big party, just a quiet dinner. I sat in the middle. The table split quite easily into family at one end, starting with my dad next to me on my left and my mother the other side of him, and then my friends to my right. I hadn’t seated Sam next to me, but as I sat down and the heat of his hand left my hip, I wanted to quickly switch the name cards.
Harper didn’t even try to hide her delight with Sam and as soon as they sat down, she peppered him with questions.
“So, your husband’s working tonight? What does he do?” I asked Angie.
“He has a small construction company in Jersey.” Her gaze scanned the room, taking in the restaurant and then settled on me. “He’s working all hours at the moment on an office building they can’t touch during the day.”
“Oh, that’s tough, but I’m really pleased you could make it. I’m just sorry it’s for something like this and not somewhere where it’s just us. I can’t wait to get to know you better.” I held my breath, hoping she’d feel the same.
“Don’t be, it was nice of you to invite me. Sam really wanted me to come.” She shifted a little to allow the waiter to fill her water glass.
“So, you live in New Jersey?” I asked.
She laughed. “Yeah, my whole life. Thought it would be the last place I’d want to spend married life but Chas will never leave, so I guess I’m stuck.”
I knew she and Sam had been to high school together, and I wanted to ask her questions about him. Did he talk to her about his parents?
“I heard you grew up in his building?” Angie asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure he refers to me as the Park Avenue princess.”
Angie smiled and said, “I haven’t noticed him say that, but then, as I’m sure you’re finding out, he only says a fraction of what goes on in that big brain of his.”
“That’s for sure. I have to stop myself from asking him what he’s thinking eleven times an hour.” The waiters began serving our food and a murmur went around the table as plates were put in front of people.
“So, you’re spending a ton of time together then?”
Only most nights since I’d come back from Connecticut. “Yeah, though I haven’t known him long.”
“You have to take care of him,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning in to me just a fraction. “I’ve never seen him so taken with a woman. He likes you an awful lot.”
I reached for my water glass and took a sip. I really wanted to put it against my cheek to get rid of my blush. “I like him an awful lot, too.”
Angie smiled and squeezed my hand. “I hope so.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that he’s never liked anyone. And I imagine you’ve had other boyfriends …”
“It’s different for me, too. Maybe not as much as it is for Sam, but he’s not like any of my previous boyfriends. He keeps so much inside, and yet he’s the most open and honest man I’ve ever met. I will do everything not to hurt your friend, I promise.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to come across as overprotective …”
“I don’t blame you. It’s nice that you look out for each other.”
Angie laughed. “When I started dating Chas, he and Sam came to blows one night when Sam saw him ta
lking to a woman at a bar. Sam didn’t ask any questions, just saw red and punched him. We’re a little protective of each other.”
I knew it was irrational, but I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. I wanted to have known Sam his whole life. There was still so much about him I didn’t know. I couldn’t imagine the cool, calm Sam Shaw punching someone. “Does he have a temper?” I asked, suddenly concerned.
Angie swallowed her water. “No, not at all. I’ve never seen him like that before or since. But there is so little he cares about in this world—I think he’d throw himself in front of a train for the things that matter to him.”
I may not have known Sam long, but Angie was describing the man I knew—loyal and protective. Why the hell was I spending my birthday among all these people when I just wanted to be curled up on Sam’s couch next to him? I ached for him, was lonely without him, even though he was just three feet away.
Angie excused herself from the table, and as she got up, Sam turned to find me staring at him. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
I leaned toward him, resting my hand on the warm leather of Angie’s seat. “I’m sorry I didn’t sit you next to me.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Don’t be sorry. I’m fine talking to Harper.”
“No, I mean I’m sorry for me. I miss you.”
He cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not enjoying your conversation with Angie?”
“Oh yes, of course. She’s so nice and clearly adores you. I just miss you.”
“I’m here, Princess,” he said, curling my hair behind my ear. “With you.”
And he was. I felt him in my heart.
Sam
Grace telling me she missed me when I was two feet away made me want to grab her hand and pull her out of there so the two of us could be alone. But part of me enjoyed seeing her with her friends and family. It was confirmation of who she was—kind and generous. Funny. Sexy. Gorgeous. She wasn’t a different person with them. The fact that she was a little uncomfortable with all the attention made sense, too. I liked being able to observe these things about her from a distance.