Page 5 of Choosing Samantha

I remind myself that she is only here because she is being paid. That fact alone should set a clear boundary. Instead, it makes me wonder why she needs the money.

At the entrance, she opens her purse to silence her phone. When she lifts it, sunlight catches the cracked screen. Cracks spread from one corner to the other. Clear tape covers the worst section.

“You need a new phone.” How that abomination still works is beyond me. What if she’s alone somewhere and her broken phone dies? The thought shouldn’t affect me as much as it does—this is only one brunch—I’m not her real boyfriend.

Her cheeks flush a soft shade of pink. “It still works.”

“That wasn’t what I said.”

“Are you always this direct?” She lifts her gaze to mine, defiance shining back at me.

“Yes.”

“That must save time.”

“It does.”

She slips the phone back into her purse. “I can’t afford to replace it yet.”

Her answer is simple, but I pick up on everything she leaves unsaid. Before we reach the table, I’ve already decided she will have a new phone by the end of the day.

I tell myself it’s a safety concern. A damaged phone could fail in an emergency. I'm lying to myself—I want to give her something. The urge is new to me and feels almost too good.

Our table overlooks the river. When we arrive, Daniel and his wife, Elise, are already seated with the other couples. Three women in muted designer dresses turn toward Samantha. For a moment, I feel her grip my arm a little tighter. I slide my arm behind her back, wanting to protect her if any of them say anything to hurt her feelings. Then she surprises me by raising her chin, silently daring them to comment on her clothing.

A warm rush of pride fills me at her show of bravery. “Everyone,” I say, bringing her hand to my lips and kissing it, “this is Samantha Ellis.”

Samantha’s eyes snap to mine, surprise and lust lurking in her brown eyes.

Daniel stands to greet her. “We’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, which means Arch has been keeping secrets.”

Samantha glances between Daniel and me. “We’re very mysterious.”

Elise smiles. “How did you two meet?”

We already have a story ready. The agency suggested we say we met at a gallery opening. Before I could use it, Samantha says, “A mutual friend decided Arch needed help looking sociable.”

Daniel laughs so hard that he has to set down his coffee. “Oh, I like her.”

I glance at Samantha, only to be met with an innocent smile. I hold out the chair for her, wondering what other surprises she has in store.

In less than twenty minutes, Samantha won over everyone at the table. It isn’t because she acts sophisticated or pretends to know the French dishes or the artists Elise is discussing. She listens, asks thoughtful questions, and admits when she doesn’t know something without embarrassment.

She orders blueberry pancakes after every other woman has selected salads—that alone almost makes me fall for her.

“What are you studying?” Elise asks.

“Art education,” Samantha says. “My focus is sculpture, but I’m completely obsessed with glass.”

“Glass?”

“Glassblowing. I teach beginner classes on Saturdays at a small studio near campus.” Samantha’s face lights up when she talks about it. She tells us how molten glass flows like honey, how color shifts beneath the furnace’s heat, and how a person must guide it without trying to dominate it. “You can’t force glass,” she says. “You have to work with what it wants to become.”

The talk around us fades as I watch her hands move while she speaks—sunlight shining off her braid, bringing out copper highlights in her brown hair.

“What does it want to become?” I lean forward, completely entranced by her words.

Her gaze meets mine. “That depends on who holds it.”