“Hudson River Development,” I said. The lie came out smooth and easy—too easy. “You’ve heard of it?”
It was a real company, one I had no connection to. But it would buy me time, time to figure out how to tell her the truthin person, where I could see her face and explain everything properly.
When we finally said goodbye, I felt better and worse at the same time. Better because hearing her voice made everything seem less catastrophic; worse because she deserved the truth.
To know who I really was before this went any further.
Even if it meant losing her.
CHAPTER 8
Gianna
Saturday morning startedwith Sam texting me at eight a.m.
Sam
Emergency brunch meeting. Don’t be late.
Gianna
It’s Saturday. Some of us sleep.
“Not today. We have that joint presentation due Monday and you have a DATE tonight. Time management, Gianna.”
He had a point. I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, trying to shake off the weird mix of nerves and anticipation that had been sitting in my stomach since that call.
Since Archie had called me drunk and vulnerable and asked me to dinner like it was the most important question in the world.
I’d been thinking about that call all week. About the way his voice had sounded—rough and honest and a little lost.
About the fact that he’d reached for me when he was falling apart.
Should I be thinking deeply about that? Did it mean more or was I moving too fast?
Sam had chosen a café near campus that served excellent coffee and pancakes the size of dinner plates. He was already there when I arrived, sitting at a corner table with his laptop open and approximately enough food for three people spread across the table.
“Did you order the entire menu?” I asked as I slid into the seat across from him.
“I’m stress-eating. Tyler and I adopted a puppy this morning and I’m having feelings about it.”
“Feelings like you’re excited or feelings like you’re terrified of responsibility?”
“Both. Simultaneously.” He pushed a plate of pancakes toward me. “Eat. You need energy for tonight.”
I looked at the stack of pancakes drowning in syrup and butter. “I’m not going to fit in my dress if I eat all that.”
“You’ll be fine. Stop being dramatic.”
“Don’t sound like my mother.”
“I’m just showing you love. Appreciate my good gestures.” He sighed, looking exaggeratedly offended.
Then he took a bite of his own pancakes. “So. Tonight. Terrace Guy. Are we excited or terrified?”
“Can I be both?”
“Welcome to the club. At least someone understands how I feel.” He chewed thoughtfully and then his phone buzzed.
