The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(15)

Rhiannon nearly smiled with the audience, but controlled it. Damn it.

But it was a nice thing for the bastard to say, especially when she couldn’t come out and call that question stupid. Not without looking too angry or emotional.

“Okay, one more question.” Helena tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Oh, this is more of a personal question. I love it, I’ve always wanted to be an advice columnist. Are there any circumstances under which you’d give someone who ghosted you a second chance?”

“No,” Rhiannon said flatly.

“Yes,” Samson said, almost at the same time.

“Oooh, polar opposites.”

No fucking surprise there.

Helena nearly rubbed her hands together. “Explain, Rhiannon first.”

What a no-brainer. “My stance is, if a man ghosts you, he’s literally ghosted you. Like, he’s probably dead.” The audience and Helena chuckled, but Samson only leaned back in his seat. “Please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t wish them dead. I assume they died. I’m kind enough to give them noble deaths, too, in my head.” She rolled her wrist. “Saving a puffin from a fire, et cetera.”

“Is there a word for people who come back into your life after a ghost?” Helena mused.

If there was one thing Rhi did know, it was the lingo. “The behavior is called submarining, but I prefer calling them zombies,” she said dryly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking to let any kind of zombie back into my life.”

“What about you, Samson? You said you would give someone a second chance.”

Samson shifted. “I think, generally, you’re right, Rhiannon. Too often people treat others as disposable. It’s not right. But I think there are cases where you should, at the very least, hear someone out. What if someone doesn’t intend to ghost the other person?” Samson asked, so quietly Rhiannon had to lean forward to hear him.

This time she did sneer. “Intend? Your intent is irrelevant, you either do it or you don’t. If you—I mean, someone—makes a conscious decision to not call or stands you up, they’ve ghosted.”

“What if the ghoster has a family emergency? Don’t extenuating circumstances matter?”

Was he saying he’d had a family emergency that night? A flare of hope fluttered under her hurt and anger, but then she realized what it was and swiftly squelched it down.

Hope was the enemy of productivity, in her case, at least. “A family emergency of a sufficient degree may warrant a talk,” she said, proud that there wasn’t a single shake in her voice. “But trust in relationships is like fragile glass. How can you build on a cracked foundation? How can you be sure you’re getting the truth? You have to protect your own heart. No one else will do it for you.”

Samson’s short lashes lowered, hiding his eyes. Helena jumped in, probably sensing their light interview was getting a little too deep. They wrapped up the Q&A and Rhi waited for the curtain to come down before she wrestled with her mic, yanking it off with more force than was necessary. The adrenaline that had fueled her through the interview was going to seep out of her soon, and she needed to get away before it did.

Shouldn’t have brought up ghosting.

“That was fantastic,” Helena enthused, as an assistant removed her mic and handed her a fresh bottle of water. “I’d love for both of you to be guests at some point on my show. Together, separately, anything.”

God no, not together.

“Matchmaker would be all for that,” Samson rumbled. She wondered if he was as drained as she was.

Don’t wonder anything about him.

“That would be amazing.” Rhiannon stood, Samson and Helena following her lead. “Why don’t you have your people contact mine?”

“Will do.” She and Helena exchanged air kisses and then it was time for Rhiannon to say goodbye to Samson. She held her hand out.

He took it, and that stupid little electrical shock ran up her arm. Why was it still there? It should be eradicated, that zing when he touched her. She snatched her hand back, and then felt mildly foolish.

Samson took a step toward her, but before he could open his mouth, Helena put her hand on his arm. “Samson, this is super unprofessional, but would you mind if I video called my dad? He’s such a fan.”

“That would be great.” His words and smile looked forced to Rhiannon.

Why do you care?

That was right, she didn’t. They were distracted, she was outta here.

She met Lakshmi offstage. The crew bustled around them to turn over the stage for the next event. “You killed it,” Lakshmi enthused. “You three had such good chemistry.”

They had had good chemistry, in spite of—or because of—the undercurrents of anger between her and Samson. Or at least, from her to Samson. She wasn’t sure what he felt for her, because the man’s public mask was as good as hers.

Whatever. She didn’t care what he felt for her.

“Did Helena say anything about her show?”

“Yes.” A belated thrill of excitement pierced Rhiannon’s exhaustion as she relayed Helena’s invitation. World domination was so close. “We’ll get it set up.” She glanced over her shoulder at the stage.

Samson was waving dutifully at Helena’s phone while the other woman chattered away. As if he felt her gaze on him, he looked up and their eyes met. For the first time since the curtain went up, she saw his mask drop.