slightly.
“Says the woman who didn’t have sex for eight years because she was too afraid
of being judged.”
“That’s not why!” Riley exploded. “I didn’t have sex for eight years because of
you, you ass! I never let anyone touch me because they weren’t you. Hell, the
only reason I ever let Dan touch me was because my heart was broken after you
got married.”
His eyes flashed before he turned his head sharply and stared out the windshield.
“Yup!” she muttered, digging her keys out of her bag. “That’s right. Retreat even
further into your shell, because this shit’s about to get scary. See, I’ve been
halfway in love with you since the day I met you, and I know you looked at me
the same way. Felt what I felt. And that day you kissed me at my parents’ house?
Then I went and fell all the way in love with you, and I think you fell in love with
me too.”
He said nothing.
“But you won’t admit it,” she said more softly. “Because somehow you got it in
your head that you’re not worthy of love and you’re too afraid of messing it up.”
“I mess everything up.”
“Oh wah wah,” she said, pretending to rub her eye like a fussy baby. “So you got
divorced. It happens. And so you don’t have a good relationship with your mom.
She’s bitter, Sam, and she doesn’t want your help. That’s not on you, that’s on
her.”
“Hey—”
“And so you quit your cushy job to pursue your dream. That’s a damn admirable
thing. You could sell ROON and go be an ostrich farmer, and the only person
who would think less of you for it is you.”
“It’s easier for you—”
“It’s not.” She jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “Life’s not easier for any of us.
The best we can do is choose to get through it with the right people.”
Breathing hard, Riley took a step back. “I thought you were the right person, but
I see I’ve made a mistake.”
For the first time that evening, his eyes lost their defiant, defensive look, and
something raw and vulnerable passed across his face.
“Riley, wait. I just …”
She gave a sad smile. “I waited ten tears, Sam. You get one more week.”
He frowned. “One week until what?”
“To figure your shit out.”
“Why a week?” he called after her as she headed toward the door.
“Because that’s when my Stiletto story is due. That’s when I tell the true story
about the woman behind the headline. And the true story?” she said quietly. “That
definitely involves you. It’s up to you to figure out how.”
Riley slammed the truck door closed and walked away from the only man she’d
ever loved.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A week later, Riley had her answer.
Sam wasn’t coming for her.
Did it hurt? Not really. Because Riley knew if she let herself pause for two seconds
and think about it, she’d die with the pain. So instead she did what every female
over the age of thirteen had learned to do as a coping mechanism. She got mad.
“You’re sure you want me to run this?” Camille asked, in that voice that clearly
said you should reconsider.
Riley leaned back in her chair and examined the dark gray manicure she’d gotten
at lunch. The color was edgy and a little angry. A lot like her these days.
“Positive,” Riley said. “Print it.”
“Well, at the very least I think we should disguise his name,” Camille said.
Riley frowned. “I did disguise his name. I have journalistic integrity.”
Camille’s eyebrows crept up as she slid her reading glasses on and took a look
at Riley’s draft. “Samuel Condon? That will really throw your family off the scent.”
“What? Sam’s real name actually is Sam. Not Samuel. And Condon has three
distinct letters from Compton.”
“You’re right,” Camille said, throwing down the story and tossing her glasses on
top. “He’s practically in the witness protection program.”
Riley shrugged. “The only people who would figure it out already know.”
“Even your family?”
“Yup.”
Camille’s eyes bugged out. “Oh boy.”
“I told them at dinner last night. It wasn’t so bad, actually. My sisters weren’t even
remotely surprised that we’d hooked up. My mother was delighted at first, until
she realized things were over and I wasn’t going to have baby Sams. My dad
asked if he needed to get his shotgun but then took a nap …”