His big brother blinked at him. “Do you mean ‘we’ as in the both of you, or is this something just you decided?”
Fighting the urge to flush, Sam muttered, “Both of us. We’ve talked about it.”
Andrew scoffed. “Let me give you a piece of advice, from someone who’s learned better. Diane is not the kind of girl you mess around with. She’s a good person; a great woman, for the right man. If you don’t plan on being serious with her, then cut her loose now.”
Leaving Sam reeling from his words, Andrew turned and headed for the door. He paused right at the exit. “For what it’s worth, Sam, I’ve never seen you look happier, either. If you think about it, you might just come to the conclusion that she’s what you need, too.”
Without waiting for a response, Andrew turned and stepped out into the cold.
Speechless, Sam simply stared at the door for several long moments. His brother’s words washed over him, sparking a wave of confusion.
Andrew was just being silly, right? Or maybe trying to unnerve him as payback for not telling him about Diane. Because that bullshit about never seeing him happier? That was just crazy.
Except…
Except hadn’t he just been thinking that he’d never felt these feelings she inspired before? Hadn’t he been battling the desire to claim her?
He grabbed his leather jacket and threw it on, absently zipping it up as he stepped onto the street. But the entire time, a feeling of panic bubbled just beneath the surface, clawing at his throat until a thin layer of sweat coated his skin.
Maybe this thing with Diane had gone too far. It had been fun. Hell, more fun than he’d ever had in his life. And that was saying a lot. But his brother’s words made him realize that this was beginning to feel far too serious, and that was something he couldn’t have.
He wasn’t ready for a committed relationship. Didn’t know if he ever would be. And if the day came when he finally was: well, he’d always envisioned himself with someone wild and carefree. Someone who would be willing to fly to the Caribbean with him on a whim. Who would laugh at the trappings of the New York City elite right along with him. Not someone who embodied the very concept.
Diane, with her wealthy upbringing and her desperate desire to gain her father’s approval, just didn’t fit the bill.
But she knows what this is. That it’s just fun. We made the rules together.
That much was true. But as he headed down the street toward the deli, he had to admit the truth. Diane might have agreed to one set of rules, but that didn’t mean she would follow them. Could follow them. As Andrew had so rightly pointed out, she wasn’t the messing around type.
Much as she might want to be a bad girl—and yeah, the makings of a bad girl lurked beneath the surface—she would always be beholden to her father.
And that meant that even if he had been ready to settle down, it wouldn’t be with her.
She wasn’t the girl for him.
The knowledge that he had to end things weighed down his steps as he approached the deli. Diane was there, sitting at a table right by the doors. She smiled when she saw him and stood up.
Sam’s feet refused to carry him forward, so he stopped right there outside the door, watching her as she dug a couple dollar bills out of her purse and set them onto the table. Her smile was almost infectious as she stepped out into the cold, settling her heavy coat around her for warmth. But nothing could penetrate the funk that had settled over him.
“Finally,” she breathed, her voice teasing. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
This was where he was supposed to say he would never forget about her. Instead, he muttered a soft, “Sorry.”
Her smile died at his tone, her eyes flitting over his face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine, just…” He focused on the darkened street behind her. On the people that rushed back and forth, snuggled in their winter coats to ward off the chill he didn’t feel right now.
Damn, he needed a drink.
A hollow feeling settled in his chest. He scratched at the base of his neck and forced himself to meet her gaze. “Listen, I forgot there were a few more things I had to do over at the gallery. I won’t be able to hang tonight.”
Her expression grew wary. “No?”
Sam shook his head. “Sorry to make you wait for nothing.”
“Um…” She searched his face, as if it would hold an answer to the question she didn’t dare ask. “That’s okay.”
Forcing a grin, he turned and strode toward the street, hailing a taxicab. The driver stopped and he opened the door, then turned back to where Diane stood. She was standing in the same spot he’d left her, her face frozen in an expression of bewilderment.
“At least let me pay for a cab ride home,” he said. “Since you waited for nothing.”
A shadow fell over her eyes as she finally moved into action, joining him by the door to the cab.
He grabbed her by the elbow and helped her navigate the icy curb, then shut her door and opened the front passenger one so he could slip the driver some folded up bills. Then, with a nod to her, he said, “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Okay.”
The note of shock in her tone was impossible to miss. It caused a slight wrench in the iciness coating his chest. He forced the feelings back before they could materialize and, with a nod, slammed the door shut.
The taxicab pulled away and he watched it go. When it finally rounded the corner, he forced away the thought of Diane’s surprised expression. Hailing another cab, he slipped inside and recited the address to Beringer’s Pub.
What he needed right now, more than anything, was a cold, stiff drink. Or ten. Whatever it took to banish the bittersweet memories swirling around in his mind.
***
The winter chill penetrated the numbness that had settled over Diane. Shifting in the backseat of the taxicab, she slid her icy hands into the sleeves of her coat.
What had just happened?
One moment she was still basking in the afterglow of Sam’s wild lovemaking, the next she was hitting the cold, hard ground, metaphorically speaking. After what they’d shared back at the gallery, she’d expected they would retreat back to his apartment and spend the rest of the night making passionate love. Instead, she was in a freezing cold cab headed back to her place.
Alone.
Had something freaked him out? Because that was exactly how he’d looked, his eyes wide with hints of pent-up panic. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what she might have said or done to frighten him away. But she could think of nothing.
Her fingers itched with the desire to reach into her purse and dig out her phone. Call him and demand to know why he’d flipped out on her. But no, that wasn’t the right move. Instinctively, she knew it would only push him further away.
Maybe he’s scared of what he’s feeling.
The thought of that helped to calm her. Because yeah, she could understand that. The truth was, she’d been scared of her feelings all week long. What had started out as a ploy to go wild, had quickly become something else. Sam was starting to matter to her.
It wasn’t anything she’d looked for, certainly not what she’d expected, but it had happened. Sam wasn’t the type of guy she’d imagined herself falling for, but it was happening. And she was willing to go along with it.
Once he has some time to process it, he’ll come to the same conclusion.
He had to, because the alternative was unthinkable.
Although it hurt to hold back, she couldn’t call Sam right now. He needed some time alone, to deal with his emotions. To come to the same conclusion that she had: that though they might not have meant to fall for each other, they were good together. It just felt right.
She could only hope he’d realize it sooner rather than later.
Chapter Fifteen
“Just leave the bottle.”
When Zoey paused long enough to give him a condescending look, he shot her a snar
ky grin. She rolled her eyes and complied, plunking the bottle of whiskey down in front of him instead of filling his empty glass. Someone shouting out drink orders quickly stole her attention, and she turned away to fill them.
Tonight the pub was slammed with people he didn’t recall seeing in here before, which suited him just fine. He wasn’t in a very chatty mood, and since Zach wasn’t around and Zoey was busy, it meant he could concentrate on getting shitfaced without having to bother talking to anyone. That was a win in his book.
When a cute chick with a blonde pixie cut slid in beside him and tried to engage him in conversation, he still had enough wits about him to know he should probably talk back to her. That was what he’d normally do, B.D. (before Diane): flirt his way into a girl’s pants. If this thing between him and Diane was over, he should really get back to it. But tonight it seemed like too much bother.
Hell, he could always hop back on the bandwagon tomorrow. Tonight seemed more like a drink ‘til you pass out kind of night anyway.
So he shrugged at whatever she’d just said and poured some more of the amber liquid from the bottle into his glass, resolving to do just that. It took her until his second chug to realize he wasn’t going to respond, but she finally stalked off in a huff. Chuckling, he focused back on his drink.
He lost track of how much time had passed, but when Zoey finally stopped back in front of him, the bottle was decidedly emptier than it had been when she’d first set it down.
“Closing the place down tonight?” she asked dryly, leaning against the counter.
“Huh?” He glanced around, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the case of double vision he seemed to have picked up. To his surprise, the place had all but cleared out. There was only one small group of stragglers standing by the pool tables.
Shit, must be later than I thought.
“Hey loverboy, I asked you a question.”
With more trouble than he’d care to admit, he refocused on Zoey’s amused face. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked why you were here getting blitzed instead of off having wild, crazy sex with Diane.”
He frowned at her. “What, are you insinuating that’s a thing?”
Her brow raised. “It has been for the past few weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, well,” he muttered, reaching for his glass, “that’s over.”
Zoey’s hand slid over the glass before he could grab it, and she dragged it back out of his reach. “You’ve had enough.”
When he growled at her, she laughed and then leaned forward, her expression sobering. “So what, is there trouble in paradise?”
“Trouble in paradise?” he mocked. “Who says that anymore?”
She scowled at him. “I’m being serious here. What happened between you two?”
“Nothing happened.” He gave a careless shrug. “I decided it had run its course.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Run its course? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zoey’s questions were making him damn uncomfortable. Part of him wanted to stand up and walk out, but he knew she’d just follow him. Besides, he wasn’t quite so sure where his legs were at the moment. They didn’t seem to be attached to the rest of his body.
“We had our fun,” he mumbled. “It’s over now.”
Zoey scoffed. “So let me get this straight. You broke up with her?”
A sudden burst of dizziness had him leaning against the counter. He swallowed hard to dispel his nausea. “We were never together in the first place, so there was no need to break anything.”
Her hand slapped onto the counter with surprising force. “Bullshit.”
Blinking in surprise at her biting tone, he stared up at her.
Pointing her finger in his face, she said, “You’ve fallen for her.”
“What?” He laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but it rang hollow to his own ears. “You’re crazy.”
“And you’re an asshole.” Shaking her head in disgust, she grabbed his glass and drank down the remainder of its contents. She gasped and shuddered at the taste, then poured herself another glass before coming around the counter to take the stool beside him.
Much to Sam’s chagrin, it took quite a bit of effort to follow Zoey’s movements.
Might have drunk a bit more than I should have.
Which was, clearly, the understatement of the century.
“So tell me, Sam, what’s so bad about Diane?”
Her words made him frown. “Nothing. She’s great. Smart. Classy. Surprisingly fun, when you get to know her.”
“So why is the thought of falling for her so bad?”
Scowling, he mumbled. “I don’t know. I just…”
Zoey set her elbows onto the counter, peering at him intently. “You know what I think?”
“You always tell me,” he muttered. “Whether I want to know or not.”
She ignored his quip. “I think you’re so scared of ending up with a fucked-up relationship like your parents had, that you’re willing to let a good thing slip right through your fingers.”
He blinked hard at her words. “I didn’t think you even liked Diane.”
“I don’t even really know her, but that’s not the point,” she said. “You seemed happier when she was in the picture. Therefore, as your friend, I’m obligated to tell you that you’re being a dick.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but honestly, he didn’t know what to say. Falling silent, he stared at the grains of wood on the bar top. Finally, the words came to him. “She’s not the kind of person I ever expected to fall for.”
Zoey snorted and clapped him on the back, upsetting his equilibrium. “Welcome to the real world, chump.”
Yeah, maybe she was right.
“Besides,” Zoey added softly, “as fun as casual sex can be, it gets damn old after a while, doesn’t it?”
The weariness he glimpsed on her face told him just how much she meant those words. Made him realize just how right she was.
“It does get old, you’re right.” When she nodded, he confessed, “I’m not ready for it to be over with Diane.”
She shoved a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think you were.”
Shit. What an idiot he’d been tonight. Right now he could have been lying snug in his bed with Diane’s warm, sated body wrapped tightly around him. Instead, he was sitting on a bar stool in Zoey’s dank old pub, three seconds from puking his guts out.
He’d simply let her go. Tucked her into a cab and let it drive away, knowing she didn’t understand why.
That she might think he didn’t want her anymore.
“I have to tell her,” he announced. But when he stood, the room spun a lazy circle. Reeling, he grabbed onto the bar top for support.
“Whoa there, loverboy.” Zoey grabbed onto his shoulder, righting him. “I agree you need to let her know exactly how you feel, but you probably need to be a bit more sober when you do it. Especially if you want her to take you seriously.”
Sam frowned at her. He had a feeling he was right, but at the same time, “I want to see her.”
“And you will.” Zoey gently ushered him back onto the stool. “Tomorrow, when you’ve had a chance to sleep some of that whiskey off.”
She slid back behind the counter and started stacking up the empty glasses lining the bar. “Hang on tight for a few. I’ll lock up and we can get out of here. I highly doubt you’ll make it home without passing out. My place is closer. You can sleep there tonight.”
Much as he longed to argue with her, Sam was just sober enough to realize that Zoey was right. If he stumbled up to Diane’s drunk off his ass—assuming that he even managed to make it that far without passing out—she would rightfully doubt his sincerity.
Tomorrow he would go over to her place and they would finally discuss this thing between them for real. Lay it all out. He would tell her he wanted more than a casual fling. And if she tried to deny that they could have more, the way he’d been doing unt
il now…
Well, he’d just have to do whatever it took to convince her otherwise.
Chapter Sixteen
After tossing and turning for hours, Diane had finally managed to fall asleep. But her dreams were plagued with visions of Sam, telling her he didn’t want to be with her anymore. That she was boring. Bad in bed. They progressively got worse until, at seven in the morning, she finally abandoned any further attempts to sleep.
Thanks to her dreams, it felt like she’d tossed and turned half the night, and the beginnings of a headache pressed behind her eyelids. She didn’t even have the promise of work to distract her, since today was Saturday.
Last night’s vow to give Sam space weighed on her chest like a heavy stone. Even though she knew it was the right move, she couldn’t fight the selfish desire to hear Sam’s voice. She needed to know if things were going to be alright between them.
It can wait, Diane.
But no matter how much she urged herself otherwise, after several minutes of internal struggle she found herself sitting up in her bed and reaching for her cell phone. Dialing his number.
The phone rang several times before Sam’s sleep voice answered. “Mm…hullo?”
Something panged inside her chest at the sound of his voice. God, when had it happened? When had she gotten it so bad for him, without even realizing it?
“Um, hi, Sam.” Her fingers tightened on the phone. “It’s Diane.”
She winced even as she said it. As if he wouldn’t know who she was by the initial sound of her voice. At least, she hoped he would, considering all the time they’d spent together lately.
He made a sleepy sound and murmured, “Hey. What time s’it?”
His tone set her worries at ease. Relaxing her back against the headboard, she said, “Early. I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay.”
“Mm, good.” He yawned and Diane started to smile. But then she heard another voice in the background.
A woman’s voice.
Shock made her shoot straight up in the bed. Gripping the phone tightly, she listened for the voice again, but now there was only the sound of Sam’s deep breathing.
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