Page 33 of The Love Lie
They know each other too well. They once shared a uterus, for god’s sake. There’s no hiding with Em. No running. It’s one of the many reasons Sam stayed in New York—to keep eight hundred miles between her and those knowing eyes. Em will have questions, questions Sam definitely isn’t ready to answer.
She scrolls again, dials, waits.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar Texas drawl answers mirthfully. “The prodigal roomie returns.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “I’ve been gone for like five days, Winnie.”
“Five days gallivanting in paradise, not bothering to call or text. Did you even spare a thought for me, all alone in the desolate trenches of New York City?”
“We live in the Village.” Sam snorts. “You’re doing fine. And aren’t Em and Jake with you?”
“They left for the airport this morning, about two hours ago, and let me just say, regular sex is a good look on your sister.”
“Ewww.” Sam slaps a hand over her face to smother her laugh. “They better not have been doing it in my bed.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny hearing noises.”
“Noises?”
“Noises.”
“I’m burning the mattress when I get back.”
“Hell no, you’re not. I need that deposit.”
“Then I’m taking yours.”
“Have at it.” Winnie barks out a laugh. “Maybe the pheromones will rub off on me. Lord knows I’ll take whatever help I can get in that department.”
“Actually…” Sam takes a deep breath. “I could too. Use some help, I mean.”
“Spill.”
She falls back on the mattress and flings her free arm over her eyes as if to shield herself from the embarrassment. She can practically feel Winnie’s giddiness through the phone. It’s as ifher roommate is there, kneeling on the bed, hazel eyes wide, black waves bouncing as she quietly claps her hands with eager delight. They’ve been inseparable ever since that fateful morning sophomore year when Sam sat down next to her at the start ofEnglish 125: Studies in Literatureand mutteredfuckas she spilled her latte completely down the front of her white tank. Winnie saved her ass by giving her a sweater, then pretty much held her hand through the rest of the semester so she didn’t fail the class, then became her best friend. She was a bright light in an otherwise dark time, the definition of positivity, something Sam could use a little bit of right about now.
She groans. “I accidentally got engaged to the most attractive man on the planet, and all I want to do is rip his clothes off, but I can’t.”
“What?” Winnie practically screams. “Why not?”
“BecauseIdidn’t actually get engaged to him. Emily did. On television. For ten million people to see. Which might be a problem, considering she spent the past few days fucking one of the producers of the show. In my bed, apparently. And if that ever comes out, everyone in America would probably hate her. I mean, come on. It’s juicy as hell. The tabloids would feast on her carcass. We both know it. She’d be labeled a slut and a whore, some sort of praying mantis, while the men of course got off scot free. Misogyny at its finest. No one would care that Jake was her ex. No one would believe she’d been faking it for the show. They’d see the worst. Because that’s what the world always sees in a woman who makes a mistake. A villain. Her business would be ruined. And I can’t—I can’t do that.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
Sam sighs. “I have.”
“He must be really,reallyhot.”
“So hot. You have no idea.”
“Yeah… I’m going to need a visual. I need to know exactly what we’re working with before I give you any advice.”
“I’m not sending you a picture.”
Winnie hums for a moment. “How about a celebrity comparison? I get them all the time for work.”
She’s an assistant designer at a publishing house. Romance covers are her bread and butter.
“Sort of like that guy fromOutlander. What’s his name?”
