Page 48 of Smoke and Glitter

"Handled?" There's a scrape, like she's set something down harder than necessary. "I've watched you two be a couple for months. Everybody has. You're the only one who won't say it."

My hand closes around the leg of the nearest chair.

"Don't, Bex."

"No. You kissed her in front of all of us at Lucia's fundraiser. There's snickerdoodle creamer in your refrigerator, Sam, and you don't drink it."

"It's there for her."

"Of course you know." Bex's voice drops. "So say something honest about her."

Sam doesn't answer.

I stare at my hand wrapped around the chair leg.

The radio keeps playing.

Bex waits.

So do I.

I've spent enough of my life listening to people search for language to know the difference between someone trying to find the right words and someone trying to find words they can live with afterward.

This pause belongs to the second.

Finally, Sam says, "She's got her own whole life."

Bex is quiet for a second. "That's not what I asked."

"She's got Summer. Jake. Her career. Nix O'Keefe. A hundred people calling her because they think the world is ending." I hear glass touch glass behind the wall. "She doesn't need me. That's not what this is."

"Sam."

"She doesn't."

There's irritation in his voice now, but it doesn't sound like it's aimed at Bex.

"She doesn't ask me for anything."

My grip tightens around the chair.

"She has her place. I have mine. She comes here when she wants to. I go there. Nobody's keeping score. That's why this works."

Bex lets out a short breath. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Yeah."

"I don't think you do."

Another glass goes onto a shelf.

Then Sam says, "She's never asked me to be more than this."

Everything in me goes still.

Bex answers more quietly this time. "Maybe she's waiting for you to offer."

"She isn't."