Page 6 of Choosing Samantha

There is a moment between us. I know she feels it too by the way her cheeks flush and she looks down at her plate. Under the table, the side of her sandal brushes my shoe—neither of us moves away.

***

By the end of brunch, I know Samantha hates olives, loves old bookstores, and secretly draws strangers on the train. I also realize I’m in trouble. I hired her for two hours—now I want to spend the rest of the day with her.

When everyone starts saying goodbye, I catch myself making up reasons to keep us from leaving. “Did you enjoy yourself?” I ask once we are alone near the entrance. I don’t realize until it’s too late—I’m paying her to be herself—that it really doesn’t matter if she enjoyed herself.

“I did.” Her smile softens as if she realizes my distress. “Your friends are nice.”

“They liked you.” I reach out to tuck the strand of hair that has escaped from behind her ear, then pull my hand back.

“I’m relieved. I thought Elise was going to ask which designer made my dress.”

“What would you have said?” I stuff my hands into my pants pockets to keep from touching her.

“Goodwill.”

I laugh out loud, making her eyes widen. “What?”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”

“I laugh.” Maybe not as much as I should, but I still do.

“Not often, apparently.”

“No.” My admission sours my mood.

“I like it.” Those four words shouldn’t hit me so hard. How long has it been since anyone truly cared whether I laughed?

Outside, my driver waits by the car. Samantha reaches for the rear door, but I stop her. “One moment.”

Miles emerges from the restaurant, carrying a small white shopping bag. Samantha looks between us. I take the bag and hold it out to her.

“What’s this?” she raises an eyebrow.

“A phone.”

Her expression shifts instantly. “Arch.”

“Your screen is unsafe.”

“My screen is cracked.”

“The cracks could cut your fingers.”

“I’ve used tape.”

“A highly sophisticated repair.”

She almost smiles but doesn’t take the bag. “I can’t take that.”

“You can.”

“That phone costs more than my laptop.”

“Then try not to drop it.”

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t get told no very often, do you?”