Page 136 of Smoke and Glitter

I turn my head. "That sounds like you are entirely prepared."

"It was supposed to be."

"What happened?"

"I wrote your name." He pauses, rubbing his thumb across one knuckle. "Then I wrote that I love you."

Every muscle in my body forgets its job and I freeze.

He doesn't look at me when he says it.

I stare at the side of his face. "You wrote what?"

"I love you."

The second one is quieter, but it is spoken this time.

My heart starts behaving like an animal trapped under furniture.

Sam breathes out through his nose. "Then I realized I was about to write the rest of it. All of it. I would've spent the whole flight getting every sentence right, and by the time I got here I'd have had something organized enough to hand you."

"That sounds rehearsed."

"Yeah." He glances over. "It also would've been performative bullshit."

My eyebrows lift.

"Not the words. The way I'd use them." He looks back toward the path. "I'd make it safe before I ever had to say any of it to you."

The cold finds the gap between my gloves and my coat sleeves, and I tug the cuffs down farther. "So what did you do?"

"Closed the notebook."

"That's eight hours of entertainment gone."

"I watched a terrible movie."

Sam looks down at his hands again. The ease that slipped in for those few seconds disappears with it.

"I don't have a speech."

"Good."

"I might fuck this up."

"That seems probable."

His mouth pulls briefly at one corner. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

He takes the hit without complaint, then shifts his hands together between his knees. "I need you to let me say it even if it comes out wonky."

My throat closes.

"I am not helping you."

"I don't want you to."