"Oh, absolutely."
We walk the rest of the way to her building. Shoulders brush twice. Neither of us moves away.
At her door she stops. The porch light is dim and her building is quiet.
"Thanks," she says. "For coming. For... all of it."
"Thanks for inviting me."
She shifts her bag. Keys are in her hand but she doesn't move toward the door.
"They really did like you," she says.
"Good. I like them."
"Even the interrogation?"
"Especially the interrogation."
She smiles.
I reach out, push a stray piece of hair off her face. My hand lingers. Her skin is warm and she doesn't pull back.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I say.
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
She turns toward the door, keys jingling. The lock clicks. She pushes the door open, glances back over her shoulder.
"Goodnight, Tom."
"Goodnight, Sam."
The door closes. The hallway light flickers on through the frosted glass. I wait until I hear the second door click shut before I turn and walk back toward the subway.
You're stuck with me, Samantha Morgan.
I'm already invested.
I am.
Chapter twenty
Sam
The corner booth is full when I walk through the door.
Liv, Nadia, and Priya are already seated, coffee cups in front of them, but they're not looking at me. They're staring past me, toward the exit, like I'm invisible.
I stop three feet from the table.
Liv has her chin propped on her hand. Nadia leans back against the booth, arms crossed. Priya sits forward, elbows on the table.
All three watch the door.
I turn.
A guy in a suit pushes through the glass, to-go cup in hand. Tall, dark hair, expensive watch catching the morning light. Good looking. Symmetrical features. Confident stride.
