Page 106 of Let’s Be Real

This had to be grief. And if it was grief, it wouldn’t last forever. It would play out then eventually end. If I made a call, they’d think it was more than that.

And then what?

No, no, no. This was better. These walls were mine. The rugs under my feet were soft, and so what if they got a little worn from all my pacing?

I had my Sammie. I had my girl. We loved each other.

I wasn’t going to carry this forever.

It would play out. It would end.

Just wait it out…

I’d be okay.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Nate

Samantha laughed, pushing me away, but not hard enough to be effective. “You’re in my personal space.”

I tugged her closer, one arm hooked around the back of her chair as I nuzzled her neck. “You have no personal space.”

“That’s right.” She rubbed her cheek against mine. “Who needs personal space when I can have Nate Wells?”

I tipped her face toward mine, our lips grazing. “I love you.”

I felt her smile. “I love you too.”

I had to bite my tongue from saying it again. And again. I’d given myself a daily limit, and I was swiftly approaching it. If I said it too much, she’d know. I was doing well, keeping it normal, and she hadn’t noticed.

I bumped the table with my elbow, nearly tipping my empty beer bottle into Samantha’s graveyard of cocktail glasses, nothing left but melted ice and forgotten garnishes. The clatter was swallowed by the crowd as the lead singer launched into the next song.

She put her lips beside my ear to be heard. “We should go home.”

I pulled back, my eyes darting between hers. They were smoky, gray and black, smudged at the corners. Her cheeks were more flushed than they’d been when I’d picked her up earlier, and her lipstick had long since been kissed away.

“You’re beautiful.”

She laughed. “Thank you, but that wasn’t the topic at hand.”

“Right, right. Something about going home?” I reached over to spin the empty cocktail straw between my fingers before nodding toward the small stage. “You don’t want to listen to the rest of the set?”

She’d snuck out of work early to come with me to a local band’s concert. They were fine. Maybe even good, judging by the crowd’s reaction.

I hadn’t heard much of the show. Being present was a battle. Act normal. Do more than stare at Samantha.

“I’m ready.” She slipped her hand into mine. “You’ve kept me so busy lately, I’ve barely had time to think.”

Me either. But that was the point.

“Come on, Natey,” she cajoled. “I’m tired.”

I rubbed my lips along her knuckles. “Then let’s get you home and in bed.”

She was pulling my hair hard. Her feet kicked, frantic, pounding into the mattress. “Come on, Nate.”

I slammed my eyes closed and continued licking her, holding her thighs open wide. She whined, arched into me, her flesh slippery against my lips.