I stand, needing to level the field on the height difference.
“Please don’t feel like you have to explain,” I blurt. “I’m the one who should be explaining.” I let out a quiet laugh, but it’s thin and frayed. “I kind of dropped myself into your life, didn’t I? Literally.”
His lips curve slightly. “Pretty dramatic entrance.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made one of those.”
“Oh?” Sam tilts his head, amused. “Can’t imagine anything more dramatic than nearly being swept away in a flood.”
I shudder slightly, the memory of the water crawling up my legs still far too vivid. “Fair. But Ididaccidentally crash a royal wedding once.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “For work?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I needed to go to the bathroom and ran into the nearest hotel.”
He gives me a look.
“Hotels always have the best bathrooms,” I defend. “Anyway, I took a left when I should’ve taken a right and walked in just as the prince was saying ‘I do.’”
Sam barks out a laugh, the sound rich and unexpected. “No shit? What happened?”
“I was promptly escorted out by two scary looking men in suits and asked a million questions. None of which I had suitable answers for, by the way.”
He’s grinning now, shaking his head. “That’s incredible. Who even does that?”
“Apparently me.” I shrug. “I like to make an entrance.”
He looks at me for a second longer than necessary, that smile lingering just at the edges of his mouth.
“Yeah,” he says, voice a little lower now. “I’m starting to see that.”
“What about you?” I ask, nudging him with my elbow.
His lips twitch. “I can honestly say I’ve never crashed a royal wedding.”
“You know what I mean. Surely, you’ve done something embarrassing. Had spinach in your teeth while meeting the Pope?”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing like that.” He pauses, glancing out the window as if he might find the answer drifting somewhere in the snow.
Then, softer, “I did once fall off the stage. During a show in Dallas. Lost my footing during the encore, landed flat on my ass in front of about twenty thousand people.”
My eyes widen. “No.”
“Oh, yeah. Ripped my jeans, bruised my ego, and gave the internet meme material for months.”
I laugh, picturing it. “And the crowd?”
He chuckles, eyes warm. “They loved it. Thought it was part of the act. I had to bow afterward just to sell it.”
I shake my head, still smiling. “That’s impressive. I probably would’ve run right out of there and cried my eyes out.”
His gaze lingers on mine. “Yeah, well. Falling’s not the worst thing. It’s the getting back up that really counts.”
The room goes a little quieter. Not tense. Just heavier. Like something unspoken just passed between us. I tuck that moment away carefully. Gently. Like a page I’ll come back to later.
“Getting up is always hard,” I agree quietly. “That’s how I ended up in LA.”
“Oh?” Sam asks, gently prompting.
