Page 46 of Smoke and Glitter

"I looked at a business filing anybody could find. It's public record, Sam."

"But nobody did." He sets the envelope down again. "Nobody did for three years. Then you did."

He says it in a way that makes my stomach tighten. Not thank you. Not even you shouldn't have. Like the problem isn't what I found. It's that I went looking at all.

"Because you want Pilsen."

"I never asked you to help me or to fix it."

"No. You didn't."

The answer comes out quieter than I mean it to.

A minute ago, I was standing here waiting for him to open the envelope. Now I have the strange feeling that I've walked into a room I wasn't invited into and only realized it after the door closed behind me.

Sam looks at me, then away.

"So why would you..."

He stops there.

My fingers curl against the edge of the bar.

"Why would I what?"

He doesn't answer.

The silence makes the back of my neck warm.

I know I crossed into something personal. I knew that before I came here. But I also know Sam told me about Pilsen. I know what that place means to him. I know I spent two nights trying to give him a way toward something he wanted without asking for anything in return.

Until this second, I hadn't considered that he might look at any of that and see me somewhere I didn't belong.

Sam's eyes drop to the envelope again, his jaw tight. His hand moves to the legal pad and straightens the top page even though it was already square with the bar.

"Look, I've got it. I don't need your help." His fingers stay on the paper. "I don't need you interfering in my life."

For a moment, I don't know what to do with my face.

Then I reach for the envelope.

"Okay."

I put it back in my bag and leave.

The word follows me outside.

Interfering. He actually accused me of interfering with his life when I was trying to get him closer to something that he really wants. Not helping. Not overstepping. At least overstepping would mean I had a place in his life and crossed a line from inside it.

I stop on the sidewalk with both hands shoved into my coat pockets and run the sentence through my head like a client's statement, looking for some softer interpretation hidden inside the wording.

There isn't one.

I don't need you interfering in my life.

A little over a week ago, I turned down an opportunity in London while lying in his bed because I didn't want to lose what we were building. I didn't want to lose him.

He has no idea.