Page 145 of Smoke and Glitter

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Autumn

Iwake up with the decision already made. After everything I've put myself through over this man, it feels almost insulting that my brain has finished the argument without inviting me. I lie still for a while anyway, staring at the ceiling and waiting for fear to make it more complicated. It doesn't.

I want Sam. I want to try again. Neither of those things means I trust him like I used to. They don't erase the bar or Bex or the months between Chicago and London. They don't make yesterday some magical finish line where Sam finally said the correct combination of words and won me back.

But I believe him, and I want him. Those are enough to get me out of bed.

I reach for my phone and type, Where's your hotel?

His answer comes almost immediately. A hotel name, the address beneath it, nothing else. I stare at the screen long enough to notice what isn't there. He doesn't ask why or whether I'm coming, and he doesn't turn the information into another decision I have to make for both of us.

I send a few messages to move what can be moved and leave alone what can't. My calendar will survive me being unavailable for a couple of hours. Nix will survive. London will continue functioning without my direct supervision, which is personally offensive but probably healthy.

By the time I get into a car, my certainty has developed nerves. That's fine. I can be scared and still go.

Sam opens the hotel-room door before I've finished the second knock, and for a second neither of us speaks. He has jeans on, no shoes, and a black T-shirt that looks soft enough to be irritating. His hair is still damp from a shower. There is a suitcase open near the wall and a jacket folded over the back of a chair, evidence that he is planning to leave today.

His eyes move over my face, then he steps back. There is no hand at my waist or touch at the small of my back guiding me through the doorway. He gives me room to enter and waits until I do before closing the door behind me.

When I turn around, he's still several feet away. Sam Reeves has never looked less comfortable standing still. I take off my coat and drape it over the chair beside his jacket. "I'm saying yes."

His expression changes so fast it almost hurts to watch, but he doesn't move toward me. "What does yes mean?"

The question surprises me enough that I look at him properly. He rubs one palm against his thigh. "I want to make sure we're saying the same thing."

Of course he picks now to become sensible.

"It means I want us." My pulse starts climbing, but I don't look away. "It means I want to try again."

His eyebrows lift slightly.

"I'm going to ask you things when I want answers. I'm going to tell you when I'm pissed off instead of waiting to see whether you notice. If something scares me, I'm going to say that too. And I'm not going to make myself easier to love because you're uncomfortable."

Sam takes that in without flinching. "Good."

"You say that now."

"I mean it now."

I fold my arms. "And when I'm asking you a question you hate?"

"Ask me anyway."

"When I tell you something you don't want to hear?"

"Tell me."

"When I need something from you?"

His jaw shifts. "That one's probably going to scare the shit out of me, but tell me."

I almost smile. The smile wins.

Sam's eyes drop to my mouth and then come back. I uncross my arms. "I love you."

Whatever discipline has been keeping him on his side of the room takes a visible hit.