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“So what if he does? It’s too late to fire us.”
“Worddoesget around,” said Sam. “If Berg makes it known you’re difficult to work with—”
“This isn’t work. This is… this is nonsense.” I blustered on, outraged, though I knew I was beat. My career might survive a badmouth from Berg, but Lacey’s was still on shakier ground — a couple of rom-coms, a slasher that flopped. Berg’s disappointment could send her into a tailspin, and I could tell from the look on her face that she knew it. I shut my mouth with a snap, and Sam tapped on the contract.
“This is a smart move,” he said. “They’ll make you look good.”
“I get to vet the itinerary.” I scratched at my stubble. “And whatever they’re printing, I get to approve it.”
“Yes to that first part, no to the second. They’ll print what they want to print, so only give them good things.”
“Only good things,” said Lacey. She reached for her contract. She had a glazed look about her, sort of shellshocked, but when I moved toward her, she shifted away. It could’ve been coincidence, but the evidence was mounting: not only had I flipped Sam into butler mode, I’d somehow managed to offend Lacey as well.
I ran over our morning, trying to think what I’d done, but it’d been pretty standard — breakfast, the limo. A trip to hair and makeup, then back to my trailer. Had I done something last night on our date? But that had gone great, I thought, and not just on socials. We’d shared a plate of bruschetta. We’d laughed. Met some fans. Nothing weird there, apart from those fans.
Lacey signed her contract and then I signed mine. By the time I’d scribbled my signature on the dotted line, she was already halfway out the door. I made to chase after her, but Sam caught my arm.
“I know it’s your call time, but have you got a minute?”
I was so startled by Sam grabbing me that I stopped in my tracks. He’d dropped the butler act too, and his eyes were dark and wounded. He swallowed, throat working, and let go of my arm.
“Did I do something?”
“What?”
“Are you angry with me?”
I stared, mystified. “Why would I be angry?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.” Sam turned away from me to gaze out the window. “You left me out of your wedding. I had to find out on socials. I thought, with our history…” He scrubbed at his mouth. “Look, I know we’re not the kind of friends who share deep, dark secrets. But I thought wewerefriends, not just coworkers. That means something to me, our past and our friendship. If I’ve misread things—”
“What? No. You haven’t.”
He inhaled, sharp and rough, and shook his head side to side. “Then, what… why…?”
“I know it sounds strange, but we just did it. We didn’t invite anyone besides our driver as witness.”
“You just did it. Got married.” Sam laughed without humor. “That’s not at all like the Eric I know.”
I could’ve spat out the truth then, but it caught in my throat, a physical tightness strangling the words.
“Call it impulse,” I said instead. “Island magic.”
“Island magic.” Sam exhaled with a hiss. “All right,” he said. “I understand. It’s your business. But Eric, I meant it. I value our friendship. You can talk to me about anything, if something’s not right. If you’re hurting, if you’re happy, whatever it is — if you need someone to listen, please know I’m here.”
My throat went so tight I nearly gagged on my secrets. I breathed deep till it passed, then I squeezed Sam’s shoulder.
“I appreciate you being there. I really do. And I, uh… I value you too.” I huffed, embarrassed. “But I swear nothing’s wrong here. Everything’s fine.”
“If you say so,” said Sam. He went back to the table and packed up our contracts, and shut his briefcase with a businesslikeclick.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“No need to be, if you’re happy.” Sam glanced at his watch again. “Shouldn’t you be going?”
He was right, but we didn’t feel done here. Sam’s back was still tight, his shoulders hunched up. For the first time since I’d met him, our friendship felt shaky, like if I didn’t do something, we might drift apart. Might even havebeendrifting, without me knowing. How long had Sam felt this way? Since before the Rio?
Sam turned to me, frowning. “Go. You’ll be late.”
