Park Avenue Prince(70)

“Maybe not. You’re in charge of the money, after all.” I elbowed her in the ribs and she squeezed me tighter before releasing me.

“We’ll have to make do with pine nut, arugula and goat cheese salad.”

Truth was, I’d lost my appetite.

I’d gotten past the stage where everywhere I went, I thought I caught glimpses of Sam. I went whole days without crying over him. But I was nowhere close to being able to think about him without pain trickling through my body. I was desperate for my longing for him to disappear. I was ready to be over him. It just wasn’t happening.

I wondered if it ever would.





Chapter Twenty-Three

Sam





“Coming,” I shouted at the pounding against my hotel room door. I stalked over—Jesus, room service was impatient—and slung it open only to find Angie instead of my food. Fuck. I should have checked the peephole. “What are you doing here?” I barked.

She didn’t answer, just pushed past me into my suite. I couldn’t be in the Park Avenue apartment without memories of Grace surrounding me—she’d picked out the furniture, the art. It was too much.

I let the door slam shut. “How did you find me?”

Angie sat on the couch, crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. “I’m resourceful. When your best friend disappears for eight f*cking weeks, you find a way.”

“I didn’t disappear.”

“You moved out—I sat outside your door for twenty-four hours, so I’d be sure. And you stopped answering my calls.”

“You’re here now. What do you want?” I wanted to be left alone—I didn’t need Angie interfering.

“I want you to explain what the f*ck you’re trying to do by ignoring my calls. Presumably you’re avoiding me ripping you a new * because you’ve abandoned Grace when she needed you most.”

My heart lurched at the thought of Grace needing me. I tightened my hands into a ball. That was why I’d walked away. I couldn’t open myself up like that.

“There’s no avoiding this conversation, Sam. We’re family. And family tells each other when someone’s making a huge mistake.”

Family. That was such a loaded word. It was what I’d lost when I was twelve. It was what I’d been on the verge of having again with Grace. But Angie was right—most of all it was what I’d had with her since we’d found each other in foster care.

I didn’t respond. Instead I bent over the glossy wood cabinet by the sofa and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. I poured two drinks and sat down next to her.

I tried to hand her a glass, but she knocked it away. Rivulets of whiskey coated my arm and the glass clunked as it hit the carpet.

“Jesus. You could have just said no.” I took a sip of my drink.

“It smells disgusting,” she said, folding her arms in front of her again.

“It absolutely does not. It smells like expensive whiskey.” She had such a temper.

“Well, it smells like dog shit to a pregnant woman.”

I tried not to smile. This was what she and Chas had been wanting for well over a year. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

“Fuck you.”

“What? I’m happy for you. I mean it.” Wow. Angie was having a baby. She deserved it all.

“You’re going to be the godfather, *.”

I pushed my hands through my hair. “No, Angie, I’m not.” I needed less to care about in my life, not more.

“I’m not giving you a choice. You’re the only person in my life I totally trust—the person who knows me the best.” She turned and looked at me for the first time since she’d arrived. “I have no one else to ask. So, there’s no disappearing out of my life, out of our lives. Do you get that? I can’t handle it. I need you.”

I stood up. “It’s not a good idea. You can’t need me, Angie. I’ll just end up disappointing you. Or one of us will die and—”

“Just stop it,” Angie said. I glanced at her and she rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

I paused and then chuckled. In our darkest hours, Angie had always shown me the funny side.

I sat back down beside her.

“And now I need you more than ever,” she said. “I have this tiny human parasite in me and it’s going to arrive in seven months. I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m sure I’m going to melt down at least once a day. The only thing I learned from my mom was how to be a crack whore. I want to save those lessons until my daughter’s eighteen.”

“You’re having a girl?” Angie would be a terrific mother despite her start in life.

The corners of her mouth curled up. “Yeah. Can you believe it?”

I shook my head. “It’s amazing.”

“I need you, Sam.”

“You have Chas.”

“I need him, too. But don’t you get it? You’re my family. I’ve been abandoned once—don’t do it to me again.” She started to cry and I grabbed her hand. I hated the thought that I’d left her like her mother had. “And you can’t do it to my daughter, either. She’s going to need you, too.”