Page 98 of The Substitute Fiancée

And what did I do? I told her fifteen minutes… and then I locked myself in my office for two hours because I’d spotted an error in the presentation for the shareholders. An error that sent me into absolute panic.

I started everything over, checked every slide, every figure, every projection. My heart was racing, my shirt plastered to my back.

In the end, the error was minor. A simple column swap in a table. Nothing that jeopardized the IPO. But I couldn’t have known that in the moment.

I should have eased up, taken a break, but sometimes pressure and fatigue keep us from being clear-headed and stepping back.

And when I finally finished, when I slipped into bed, she was already asleep.

I wanted so badly to hold her. To wake her gently, to apologize, to explain.

But I didn’t.

I wasn’t sure she would have appreciated it. Not after I’d once again put work before her.

I don’t know how to earn her forgiveness. Or how to help her with her degree.

I see how much the destruction of her artwork is destroying her. In her eyes when they cloud over when she thinks I’m not looking. In the way her shoulders sag. In that smile she pastes on her face that fools no one.

I’m a man of action. When a problem comes up at the company, I find a solution. I decide. I act.

But with Sam, I feel helpless.

I can’t repair her canvases, or erase the trauma of the assault.

I can’t turn back time and pick up that fucking phone when she called me, terrified.

All I can do is be there. And even that, I manage to screw up.

*

When I get home that evening, she’s in the kitchen with Emelyne and Mara. They’re laughing about something—and the sound cuts off abruptly when I step through the door.

“Good evening,” I say.

“Good evening,” Sam replies.

Emelyne and Mara greet me with a nod. I catch something in their eyes. Disapproval? Pity?

I move closer to Sam, place a quick kiss on her lips. She lets me, then turns her head away.

“Good day?” I ask, forcing lightness.

“Yes, I’m making good progress. We went out for lunch at noon. It was nice.”

Mara tells us about how her shopping is coming along. A new couch. New furniture.

“Everything should be ready by Friday. That’ll give us time to settle back in before the term starts.”

Already. There are only three days left before she leaves. And what am I doing? I’m wasting time with her. Like an idiot.

Sometimes I catch Sam looking at me. But the second our eyes meet, she looks away. If that’s not a sign I messed up, I don’t know what is.

Emelyne and Mara don’t stay too late. After they leave, Sam heads straight for the bedroom, visibly exhausted.

“I’m going to bed,” Sam says, without waiting for my response.

“I’ll be there.”