Page 144 of The Substitute Fiancée

My jaw tightens. My brush hovers above the frame, frozen.

Jealousy bites into my gut like a rabid dog.

Then I catch myself. No. Not this.

I already lost Sam once because of my demons. I refuse to let that spiral start again. She has the right to have friends, to laugh with whomever she wants, to be herself without me turning into a possessive, irrational man.

Breathe, Alexander. It’s nothing. Just a conversation. And even if Jules were openly flirting with her, I have to trust her.

Because Sam isn’t cruel. She wouldn’t play games with me.

And above all, she has the right to choose—even if that choice doesn’t include me.

I take a deep breath and start painting again.

The jealousy is still there, lurking in my stomach, but it no longer gets to decide for me.

Sam looks up at me, and something passes through her eyes. Approval? Tenderness?

It’s as if she understands the battle I’ve just won against myself.

She looks away, but I see the corners of her mouth lift, a private smile lighting her gaze.

I know then that I made the right choice.

Choosing respect over possessiveness.

Choosing to fight for her, not against her.

Choosing to be the man she deserves, even if it means pushing her away.

That’s when she crosses the room and comes toward me.

“You okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” I reassure her with a smile. “I’m gripping my brush so tightly I might never be able to let go.”

She laughs at my self-deprecation, takes the brush from my hand to set it on the stand, then slips my hand between hers and begins to massage it gently.

My breath catches.

This isn’t an insignificant gesture, and the intimacy of the moment doesn’t escape me.

It’s not a promise. Not yet.

But it’s a step toward me.

And for the first time in a long while, I allow myself to hope.

49. J-1

Alexander

We kept painting on Saturday and Sunday, taking turns—Emelyne, Mara, Matthieu, Oliver, David, Sam, and me. The first and second coats are completely finished. What remains are the aging effects, a more meticulous, time-consuming process that we carry out under Sam’s close supervision.

She teaches us how to patinate the wood, how to create subtle cracks, how to play with tones to give the illusion of time. It’s precision work that requires patience and delicacy.

With each session, Sam lowers her guard a little more around me. And soon, we rediscover the closeness we once had.