‘Yep. Totally fine.’
‘And let me guess. You love Capitol Hill? Just love it? Wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else?’
He’s not wrong, of course. And yet for some reason it annoys Lexi that he finds her so easy to read. No pun intended.
‘Obviously.’
She can almost feel him rolling his eyes beside her.
‘I love the sense of community there. I love that Alli knows my name and my coffee order. I love walking to work. I love bumping into my regular customers at Trader Joe’s.’ She pauses, waits for a response. ‘I guess it’s not as great if you have things to hide, though. Or people to avoid.’ It comes out pointedly, and that’s the way Lexi meant it to. She’s poking the beast, seeing if she can solve the mystery of who Sam is, really.
‘I don’t have anything to hide,’ he says. ‘I just don’t like everyone up in my business.’
‘And ex-girlfriends all over the place?’
Lexi’s hand flies to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that, shocks even herself with that response. What’s more shocking, though, is Sam’s reaction: he laughs.
‘Something like that,’ he says.
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’
She’s timed her question right, or wrong, depending on how you look at it. Because they’re at a crossing now, waiting for the little man to turn white (not green, like back home), and so they’re stopped, still, and it’s easier for them to look at each other. He can’t just brush off her question.
The silence stretches as they wait. Lexi starts to wonder if he’s heard her, so she nudges him with her shoulder, and he looks at her.
His eyes, unexpectedly, are sad.
‘It bothers me a lot, actually,’ he says.
Lexi wants to say,Then maybe stop breaking up with people? Or at least stop dating people till you’re ready to commit?But the sadness in his eyes stops her. Bickering and sparring and bantering are one thing. They’re fun; they’re an adrenaline rush. But hurting him, kicking him while he’s so obviously down, while he’s letting himself be vulnerable... well, that’s something else altogether.
Once upon a time, she might have wanted to hurt him, just a little, for the stress he’s caused and the fact he’s taken away the pleasure she once had at being the undisputed Book Queen of Capitol Hill. But then she remembers his kindness in looking after her, the softness of his touch as he guides her fingers on the piano keyboard, the laughter in his voice when he finds her Briticisms amusing. It’s not that she forgives him, exactly. But she’s less into the idea of hurting him.
‘Then—’ She’s been wondering how to phrase the question without sounding accusing and mean, but it turns out she doesn’t need to. A one-word prompt is all Sam needs.
‘I just can’t seem to make it work. I can’t seem to make myself want it enough. Since—’
He stops abruptly and stands still, like he can’t open up and walk at the same time.
Lexi tries to prompt him. ‘Since...?’
She sees his shrug in her peripheral vision. This is all she’s getting from him today. But it’s enough. Enough to convince her that he’s not an asshole or a two-dimensional villain in some terribly written sitcom, that instead he has a complicated backstory and maybe even hidden depths.
Lexi lets the silence hang a little bit longer, just in case. Sometimes silence is all it takes for someone to open up, or, in her case, to start babbling incoherently. Babbling incoherently isn’t really Sam’s thing, though.
But when he does start talking again, he changes the subject abruptly.
‘So what have you been reading lately?’
This is smart, Lexi notes approvingly. If there’s anything that can distract her, throw her off the scent of a juicy conversational titbit, it’s asking her about books. She’s aware of the tactic, but she figures she’ll have plenty of other opportunities to get him to open up. There’s something about Sam at the piano: he becomes a softer, more open person. The closer they get to Capitol Hill and to parting ways on the corner of 7th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, the straighter he stands, becoming a shrewd businessman again.
Which is why Lexi wonders if she should tell him the truth about her current reading material. She worries it might open up the kind of can of worms that’s inappropriate between business rivals before 10a.m. on a Wednesday morning.
‘The Hating Game,’ she tells him anyway. ‘It’s a romance novel.’
Lexi doesn’t read a lot of backlist– books published more than a year ago. It’s part of her job to always read forward, to know what’s coming up in the immediate future of publishing, which authors would make for great event guests, what books they’re going to be recommending to their customers this season. And it’s not just herjob. She loves to know, to talk buzzy books with her staff and with other industry insiders. Six years in, there’s still nothing quite like the thrill of an advance copy of a book she’s been excited about since she saw the deal announced inPublishers Weekly. But when Lexi is in a reading slump, or when she needs a comfort read, she likes to return to her tried-and-tested favourites. Classics, orBridget Jones’s Diary, orOne Day, orThe Idea Of You. Or something really hot and fun, like a well-written romance.
‘What’s it about?’ he asks. ‘I mean, love, I assume. Enemies to lovers?’
